Chapter 25 – Cassini
CASSINI
The silence in the Maserati is suffocating.
Lily sits pressed against the passenger door like she’s trying to meld with the metal, her body angled away from me, staring out at the Austin night through the tinted glass.
The strappy black dress she chose hugs the curves of her body in ways that make my stomach constrict—not from desire, though that’s always there, but from the knowledge that every vampire in the festering cesspit that is Nocturne will notice her too.
She’s wearing heavier, darker makeup than usual.
Smudged black eyeliner rings her deep blue eyes, and her lips are dripping with red, the color of warning.
Not a word has been uttered since I picked her up twenty minutes ago.
I opened the passenger door and leaned in for a kiss, but she ignored me.
Just slid into the car and buckled her seatbelt like we’re a couple of strangers sharing a ride.
She’s even worn the silver “L” necklace, a surefire way to keep me away from her throat.
I deserve this. I know I deserve this.
But that doesn’t stop the memory from clawing at my chest—the sound of her crying last night.
I’d buried myself six feet under the tree in her backyard, letting the cool earth cover me like a blanket, trying to escape the thread that pulls me to her.
Even surrounded by dirt and darkness, I could hear her sobbing.
Each broken breath felt like a blade sliding between my ribs.
I want you, she’d whispered in that bedroom. Promise me I’m yours.
And I’d walked away. Because I can’t promise her anything. The deeper I fall for Lily, the more inevitable her demise becomes, and I can’t face that.
Love makes me stupid. Love makes me dangerous.
And I’m falling so fucking hard for the woman sitting two feet away from me that I can barely breathe.
“We need to go over the plan,” I say finally, my voice cutting through the tension like glass.
She doesn’t turn to look at me, her glossy lips locked in a pout. They don’t move, but I hear her voice inside my head.
Fine.
It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
“Nocturne is different from the Jackalope. More upscale but more depraved. It will be packed full of rich, older vampires, more powerful ones. I doubt they’ll know you’re a medium, but they’ll be able to sense something is off if you’re not careful.
” I take a sharp left turn, and her body shifts toward me, but she pulls back and holds it rigid.
“You need to listen for any mention of Megan or Lexi. I need you to tell me if you hear anything. Stuff like where she’s being kept, who’s with her, anything that might give us a location. ”
“Got it.”
Two words. That’s progress.
“I’ll be keeping an eye out for threats, and I’ll search the place when I get the chance.
If I have to, I’ll ask to see her, and from there I’ll extract her.
” I risk a glance at Lily’s profile—the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her hands are fisted in her lap—and I want to reach out and curl my fingers in hers.
Pull her hand to my lips and kiss her palm.
But I don’t. I stare straight ahead and focus on the task at hand.
“If I tell you we need to leave, we leave immediately. No arguments.”
“Fine.”
The word comes out clipped, sharp enough to cut. I can feel her anger radiating off her in waves, mixing with the raw, bleeding hurt that I’m responsible for.
“Lily—”
“Don’t.” She finally turns to look at me, and the ice in her blue eyes makes my throat tight. “Just…don’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just want to get this over with.”
Get this over with. Maybe that’s better. Maybe it’s safer for both of us if she hates me.
We drive the rest of the way in uneasy silence, past the trendy bars of downtown and into the gritty warehouse district where Nocturne skulks between the maze of industrial buildings.
Unlike Sixth Street, there’s no neon, no grand fanfare.
The club doesn’t advertise its presence.
You’re either on the list, or you don’t belong there.
I pull up outside a windowless black building. No signs, no markers, just two battle-scarred vampires in expensive suits flanking a steel door. They nod respectfully when they see me.
Good. Julian has come through on his promise.
A vampire approaches to greet us, and I don’t want him to overhear my final warning before we’re trapped inside, so I pulse a thought toward her and pray she’s open to listening.
Lily, I know you hate me right now, but please stay close to me, and if your abilities start to overwhelm you—
“I’ll handle it.” She’s already out of the car, smoothing down the sides of her dress and marching toward the entrance. Drawn like a moth toward the sluggish sound of heavy metal. All hopped up on rage and false bravado, but despite the performance, I can tell she’s scared.
In a couple of strides, I catch up to her, and I snake my hand around her waist. She stiffens initially, then relaxes and leans against me. I run my hand down her arm and notice she’s trembling.
I’m right here. I pulse. Nothing is going to happen to you.
She’s quiet as we approach the door, but I sense her anxious heart beating through her chest and the shallowness of each breath she takes.
Thank you Cassini.
Blood. All I see is blood.
It’s omnipresent and intoxicating. Soaked in every inch of velvet, covering every surface and hanging heavy in the air. The oily richness and copper tang is so overwhelming that my fangs have descended and refuse to retract.
It hit us the moment we walked through the impenetrable metal doors and intensified when they shut behind us. Lily had flinched at the sound of metal grinding against metal, gasped at the locks clicking into place, and shuddered as a huge bar lowered across it. Sealing us in and sealing our fates.
The dirty sound of distorted guitars pulses through the walls, and a swell of hunger throbs through me. An indescribable primal need for fresh, warm blood, enjoyed straight from the vein.
We filter into a narrow hallway where red neon light snakes across the ceiling, casting everything in the color of rust. What I first mistake for grotesque art installations line the walls—ceramic hands twisted in agony, fingers splayed and grasping.
But as we pass closer, the horrible truth becomes clear.
They’re not ceramic. They’re human.
Living arms thrust through glory holes, wrists bound in place by metal cuffs, fingers twitching weakly.
Some hands are pale and drained, others still flush with life.
Dark puncture wounds dot the exposed skin like obscene jewelry.
A few of the hands move desperately, clawing at nothing, while others hang limp and lifeless.
Lily moves closer to me, and her body pushes against mine as if she’s afraid to be even an inch away from me. Her whole body is shaking, despite the warmth and heat of the place. I pull her closer and give her hip a reassuring squeeze.
I’m right here with you.
Her eyes flick up to mine, and she recoils, covering her mouth with her hand.
Cass. Your eyes.
They’ve ignited with the same terrifying, burning amber I get during feeding. They burn like matches in the darkness. Reflecting like cat eyes on a desolate highway caught in the beams of a car headlamp.
They’re a stark reminder that I’m a monster, and not a man.
I know. It’s just the blood I can smell. It’s okay. You’re okay.
She takes in a sharp breath through her nose and blows it out through pursed lips slowly. She’s trying to calm her accelerating heart, but it’s no use. I can hear it humming against her ribs like a vibration.
When we reach a set of double doors, I give her one last squeeze, square my shoulders, and push ahead. A wave of sound rushes over us, drenching us in the heavy bass that thuds through the ground and bounces off the walls.
Deep scarlet couches and booths line the walls. Lit by buzzing crimson bulbs nestled in tasseled light fixtures. Cherry neon light dripping off every facade.
Naked bodies, men and women, writhe and twist inside oversized neon bird cages suspended from the ceiling by thick silver chains, and leather-clad vampires watch in awe from underneath.
Flicking their eager tongues over their lips like hungry serpents watching their blood-soaked limbs dangling between the bars.
Other humans are splayed across tables—legs spread wide as hungry mouths drink from femoral arteries, necks arched in submission, wrists offered like communion wine.
Human waitresses in sheer black lingerie weave between tables carrying trays of champagne flutes filled with blood. Some drink from crystal goblets, others feed directly from scantily clad prey who kneel beside their chairs like loyal pets.
You’d think it was a free-for-all were it not for the hoards of suited men standing like sentries in the shadows.
Dressed in all black with leather harnesses containing cattle prods and pressurized canisters of silver spray.
Ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice and defend the human merchandise from an overzealous vamp or shock a bratty bleeder back into submission.
Her thoughts crash into mine and even her internal voice is shaking.
Holy shit, this is—
I know amore. But I need you to act like you belong. We both do.
When we reach the bar, Lily studies the shelf of blood-filled carafes. She’s still afraid, but I can feel her toughening up. She holds herself taller and pulls away from me just a little.
A striking ebony-skinned female vampire with yellow glowing eyes and an intricate purple braid that reaches her waist flashes her fangs to greet us.
“What can I get y’all?” she says in a voice heavy with a deep southern twang. “Is it your first time here?”
I’m about to order, but Lily cuts in. “It is, yes. What do you have on tap?”