Chapter 4
Jager and Wade didn't look like the usual loan sharks, at least not the kind we had around Vegas.
Those types didn't wear suits; they blended in, impossible to spot until it was too late.
A suit around here was more like something a tax collector wore after a long day on the streets—cheap and wrinkled.
The loan sharks I knew liked to act tough, flashing money, pretending they were big shots.
Jager and Wade, though? They didn't pretend.
And if they were, they were damn good at it.
No loan shark would blow ten thousand dollars on a girl in a club.
The ones I knew would swap a thousand for singles and sprinkle it around all night.
I knew how the game worked—three years of it, to be exact. The bouncer waved me through, and I walked straight toward them. Jager's eyes lit up, arms open as if welcoming an old friend. "Back already? Did you miss hearing how delicious you taste, Snow Bunny?"
"No," I said flatly.
She sighed dramatically. "Such a shame. It's the only thing worth savoring in this dump." Her sneer cut through me as she took another sip.
I still couldn't believe it—they were sharing me between them, like a delicacy on a platter. My fluids shouldn't even have been in that glass, let alone at their lips. That's something meant for the bedroom, not here.
"I want to know what happened to Cloney," I asked bluntly. "Do you own this place now?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Jager replied, her tone dry. "Cloney's out of the game. It got too big for him."
"He's been running this place since the '80s—before you were even born.
" But I couldn't finish that thought. It was obvious they weren't young vampires, despite their youthful appearance.
They were older—it showed in their muscles, in the way they spoke.
They'd been around for centuries, from the days of top hats and three-piece suits to this modern, tech-driven age.
I supposed vampires had it easy. With all of eternity ahead of them, they had time to accumulate wealth and rise to the top.
We humans? We were lucky to make it to fifty.
Some vampires used to turn humans into half-bloods, but that practice had been outlawed centuries ago.
The last generation of half-bloods had already died out.
They aged too, just more slowly, their humanity lingering inside them.
"Why push him out?" I pressed.
"It's good business, Bunny."
"No one will work for you," I shot back. "You'd rather work for humans."
"And yet humans bleed themselves dry and hand it all over to us," she countered smoothly. "The world's messed up, Snow Bunny."
Her eyes lingered on me, drifting down to my skirt. I instinctively tugged it lower, trying to cover more, though it only tightened the waistband against my hips, making the bones jut out even more.
"I just want to know what percentage I'm supposed to give," I asked, my frustration creeping in. Cloney was gone, probably with a few bruises from how they threw him out. There was nothing I could do about that now.
"You should be asking what your new role here will be," Jager replied smoothly.
I rolled my eyes. "And what is that, Jager?" I spat her name with a firm edge. Her presence annoyed me, her steady calmness was beginning to irritate me, and even Wade's silence was starting to get under my skin, though she hadn't said a word.
"Your new role will be to cater to us. And only us."
I glared at them, the heat rising in my voice. "Listen up, vamp faces. And I know with the power you've got; you can hear me loud and clear. I'm not going to be anyone's plaything. I came here to work—not to be pampered."
The two women exchanged amused glances, smug smiles tugging at the corners of their lips. My irritation deepened. Were they communicating telepathically? They had so much power, and it disgusted me that we humans had let creatures like them rise above us.
"If I'm not getting fired, I'd like to know what percentage of my tips and earnings I'm supposed to pay," I demanded, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
"You won't be working the pole anymore," Jager said, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut.
It felt like every screw holding my body together had come undone in an instant.
My jaw dropped; my mouth dry as my chest tightened.
The pole was where I made the most of my money.
With business slowing down and my refusal to sell my blood—or my soul—I'd been relying on pole dancing, serving drinks, and the occasional private dance session to get by.
I despised these damn leeches. "I'm going to be dancing, got it? I hope it registers in your dead brain. Maybe you need a shock to wake up. I'm dancing, whether you like it or not."
Her smirk only deepened in response to my frustration.
"Just tell me what my damn percentage is," I demanded.
"The club will be turning around in the next few days. That means bringing in more of our kind who love to tip just by looking at you—just like me. Though I must admit, I'd prefer to keep you locked away in my house."
"I'd rather shit in my hands and clap," I shot back, my lips pouting defiantly.
"Very defiant, little Snow Bunny. So easily caught; with just the right amount of bait, you'll be picked up in no time."
"I'm not a bunny."
"No? With that soft, pale skin, I can almost see the beautiful blood rushing through your veins. You smell delicious."
Wade smiled, her fangs sharp and white like the untouched surface of a wall. She licked her buttery tongue over her teeth. "We can't eat her just yet," she purred, a hint of hunger in her voice.
Jager growled, her own fangs bared. "We'll wait for her."
"It's against the rules to bite me against my will," I stated firmly, even as my heart raced. "Is that all you know how to do—take advantage of us humans?"
"We're leeches; we prey on cute little things like you," she hissed.
"Why don't you just make sure you stay far away from me?"
Vampires couldn't die—not really. There were weapons designed to try, but nothing could truly end them. Not even sunlight could do the trick. They simply aged until they turned to dust, without a coffin or a funeral. I wished these two could experience that kind of aging.
"What's the percentage?" I asked, glancing at the clock. My shift was almost over.
"We won't be taking anything from you," Jager replied. "All the girls will be assigned to their respective roles, and we'll pay them. The club will operate on a pay-to-enter basis."
"That's ridiculous. With business so slow, who's going to pay to get in?"
"You don't need to worry about that. Just make sure you're here at your scheduled time tomorrow. There won't be any changes until all the adjustments are made. I want to see you in jeans and an appropriate shirt."
"That's boring." I wasn't about to cover myself in clothes that would be more suited for a grocery store than a club. I needed to be eye-catching, enticing to the men who walked through those doors.
I had to maximize my tips if I wanted to maintain a decent life here in Las Vegas.
"That's my rule, Snow Bunny. I don't want to see those panties tomorrow." She flashed a smirk that left me unsure whether her presence would revitalize business or lead to the club's downfall.
They were women in suits, more suited for desk jobs and paperwork than running a club. Sure, Cloney wasn't perfect, but he could keep this place afloat better than they ever could.
I had no intention of accommodating her demands, so I stayed silent. "Cloney let us wear whatever we wanted."
"Cloney isn't here anymore," she reminded me. "His reign is over. Two queens now sit on the throne."
"The same rules still apply," I shot back.
"Just be here," she commanded.
I rolled my eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
She smirked, a hunting glint in her eyes. "I'm looking forward to seeing more of you."
I met her gaze with a smirk of my own. "Yeah, dancing on the pole."
Turning back to the bar, I settled onto the stool. Bombshell looked even more messed up than the last time I'd seen her, her state worsening by the minute.
"What did the bloodsuckers say? They raised it, didn't they?" she asked, her voice slurred.
I scowled at the wine she pushed my way. "I don't want this crap." My eyes flicked back up, catching the glow of her eyes as they fixed on me, waiting for an answer.
"Just one drink," She insisted softly.
"You know they can see you drinking the liquor, right?"
She laughed hysterically, tapping my cheek lightly, her palm lingering as she leaned in closer. "Do you think I give a damn? Business is slow; I'm just helping them finish this off before it goes belly up."
"Wine doesn't go bad. It just gets age-ier."
"So tell me, Snow White, what percentage do we have to give? Because I swear it's our freaking souls," she cursed, glancing up at the two women in suits.
"Actually, none." I couldn't wrap my head around why they'd want to take the trash out if this place was such a dump.
Her glare fell. "None?"
I nodded, pulling the shot of wine closer. One shot could knock me flat if I wasn't careful. "We don't owe them anything. They've got something else brewing."
"They do. But I think they'll tell us where we stand and what positions we hold. I don't care; I'm still dancing on that pole."
"And get fired? How do we survive then? This is the only thing our beauty gets us—being sex symbols, toys, and food for the bloodsuckers." She started wiping down the counter with a cloth, scrubbing at a nonexistent stain, her frustration clear. She saw my point of view on this whole thing.
"Well, what can we do?" I was just relieved I didn't have to shove some middle-aged cock in my mouth tonight to keep my ten grand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah."