Chapter 8 Finare
eight
Finare
After increasing his alcohol tolerance to six drinks, Finare was feeling light-headed and reckless, and didn’t really care about the headache that would pummel him tomorrow.
He couldn’t get Inias out of his mind—the way his deep, brown eyes held his while he tasted him, and the feel of his blood rushing down his throat.
He was desperate for more—and not just his blood, but more of him.
Finare eventually gave up trying to purge thoughts of Inias from his mind and went in search of him.
He pretended to need another feed, and Ivy insisted she didn’t need supervision, so he felt less guilty leaving her to rove the mezzanine.
The host stated that Inias was no longer on offer for this evening, but that he might be winding down in the smaller bar at the back of the club.
That was where Finare found him, chatting with the bartender. He took a moment to appreciate Inias from afar. His tanned skin was unusual in a place that saw no daylight. His shirt was unbuttoned to his sternum, and his long brown locks cascaded around him as he engaged in an animated conversation.
Drawing from the well of self-assuredness that fuelled all of Finare’s actions, he glided into Inias’s field of vision. Inias nodded at the bartender before shifting his attention to Finare.
“I might’ve said to visit again soon, but I meant next month or something.
” With a few less drinks in his system, Finare might have taken Inias’s comment as a cue to leave.
It was inappropriate for patrons to proposition the staff after their shifts were finished but it happened regularly enough that Inias eyed Finare warily.
“You said you missed me.”
“I said I might have missed you.”
“Semantics.”
“I’ve reached my limit, so I’m off the clock, Finare.” The words were final, but they were delivered gently.
Each creature had a limit to how much blood they could safely give, and once it was reached, they were unable to work again until their blood regenerated. That timeframe differed from creature to creature.
“That would be terrible news, if I wanted you for your blood.”
“What else could you want from me?”
“What wouldn’t I want from you?” Finare pushed his fingers through his blonde locks, and they fell to the side of his face in a lazy tumble. He blinked slowly in Inias’s direction, certain he looked undeniably sexy.
“You’ve had a few tonight, haven’t you?” Inias’s words should have been enough to cut through Finare’s stupor, but the booze had him in a chokehold and he couldn’t think straight. He grinned and gave a slow shake of his head in reply.
“Well, I’d love to stay and have another with you, but I have to take off.” Inias rose from his seat, and Finare pushed his bottom lip out dramatically. Inias’s hand landed on Finare’s wrist and squeezed gently. “I mean it, come back next month.”
Finare spun on the stool to watch Inias fade between the clusters of revellers. Finare remained in place for a long moment, until he remembered his Broodmate sitting alone at the other end of the club.
Finare headed back to the main bar more unsteadily than he would have liked. He scanned the tables, but the one he thought he left Ivy at was occupied by a pair of Werewolves. They scanned the room with matching scowls on their faces.
“Shit. Where is she?” he blurted aloud, but the sound was carried away by the throbbing music and went unanswered.
Finare scanned the bar and dance floor, but Ivy wasn’t there.
“Perhaps she went for a snack.” His monologue would have made his sober-self cringe. He returned upstairs to check the mezzanine, holding onto the railing for support.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he spotted the familiar, looming presence of Killian Maurell, and his body instantly felt like it’d been submerged in icy water.
Killian was not one for the Noctis social scene unless he was on the hunt, and even in his inebriated state, Finare knew of a potential target he might be prowling for.
He looked closer and recognised the dark-haired female he held against the wall with a dagger pressed to her chest. It was his fucking month-old Broodmate.
Raw, undiluted panic flooded his system and cleared the fog of intoxication from his mind. His surroundings blurred but it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He surged forward, crashing into Killian in the hope of dislodging his hand from around Ivy’s throat.
The Hunter was a much stronger Vampire, having at least a century on Finare’s meagre 23 years.
But the action took Killian by surprise, and his grip on Ivy faltered.
Ivy dropped to the ground, and she shimmied out of his range, trembling with fear.
Finare moved between them, panting heavily due to a mixture of the alcohol, the adrenaline, and his swift action.
“The exit’s that way, asshole.” Finare didn’t hide his contempt for the Vampire that was responsible for Ending Voresta’s First. Although Killian was taller, Finare pushed himself into Killian’s face in his best attempt at intimidation. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
He was certain that Killian wouldn’t harm him, and he simply had to act as a barrier until he retreated. Killian seemed to understand his window had closed and backed away with a glare.
Killian peered over Finare’s shoulder and stared Ivy down as he purred, “See you soon, baby vamp.” He lifted his dagger and did a mock salute with it before turning and heading down the stairs.
Finare looked her over and noticed a red handprint on her neck. He shuddered at the force needed to leave a mark like that.
“Are you okay?” Finare wrapped his arms around her, and she trembled in his embrace. She nodded but remained silent. “Fuck! Let’s get you out of here.”
Finare kept an arm around Ivy’s waist as he hurried her out of the club, leaving thoughts of Inias behind as they departed.