6. The Club For Supernatural Freaks
SIX
THE CLUB FOR SUPERNATURAL FREAKS
Jack
G lossy, deep auburn hair, slick with sweat, tugged over one shoulder. On her hands and knees for me. Bare, tawny skin of her back, smooth and … so fucking lickable. Biteable. My mouth descends. My hands, stroking over the roundness of her naked ass, my lips meeting that spot between her shoulder and her neck.
My jaw aches as I inhale her, deep into my lungs. She smells of … black tea and spring mornings. I’m hard as steel for her. My teeth grow, piercing her perfect flesh as she cries out, not in pain … in pleasure.
Hot spurts of her blood flood my mouth, and I groan against her skin, sucking harder, my fingers inching toward the heat between her thighs …
The whirring sound of landing gear engaging startled me awake. I twisted in the plane seat, wincing when I realized I was hard.
I adjusted my aching dick, glancing furtively around the private jet, hoping to fuck that none of the agents on here had noticed my boner. Jesus, it was raging. What had happened in my sleep for me to wake up this riled?
And then I remembered.
“Fuck!” I muttered, my head falling back against the seat.
This couldn’t be happening to me!
But even as I thought it, my blood hummed, thinking about her. Those brown eyes, with a ring of gold, circling the iris. In that fucking horror-movie science lab, with blood—her blood—all over the floor, and all I’d been able to see was those fucking eyes and that fucking brown with a hint of red hair tangled around her shoulders. And that fucking smell! Spring was my favorite season, but how someone could smell of warmer weather, of that freshness in the air that comes from things growing …
Our little Blossom , the monster crooned.
Fuck you! I snarled back. You don’t get to just push me aside and speak with my mouth!
The monster chuckled. Our mouth, Jack. And when it comes to HER, that’s the least of what I plan to do.
Shit.
Well, I wasn’t going to let that happen. I was almost positive I knew where things would end up if I let him control anything to do with her. I’d watched my best friend go through it, only weeks ago. And it could not be a worse thing for me. I didn’t want it. I’d seen what it had done to Blaire and …
“Fuck no.”
“No getting cold feet now, half-breed!” One of the agents, a tall dude dressed all in black, who was probably packing a shitload of hidden weaponry, hissed across the aisle at me.
“No cold feet here,” I muttered darkly, glancing around at the team that had been assembled for this little international trip. Six black-clad agents. And fucking Baxter, all in a private jet. Baxter was across from me, his seat facing mine, a table in between, his laptop open on it.
That prick was decked out in his full military uniform, shiny badges and medals and ribbons lined up on his chest. He liked to make his rank obvious.
He’d also made fucking certain that when he removed me from his facility, I would have no idea where I was. A bag over my head, my hands cuffed behind my back. Marched on board a helicopter by two of the men on this plane. Blacked-out windows ensured I didn’t even get a view from the air. And the helicopter took us to some airfield that could have been anywhere from the northern USA or Canada to fucking Norway for all I knew.
“Copenhagen has confirmed, clear for landing, Agent Baxter, sir.”
Baxter’s hand went to his earpiece. “Roger,” he replied. He glanced over at me. “You ready for this?”
I sniffed. There was something … unwell … about the scent wafting off him. I didn’t want to think too much about how I could tell that just from one quick inhale. I also didn’t want to think too hard about what that smell, on him, could mean.
I hated what they’d made me. But I thought I probably hated him more.
“Sure,” I grunted. “How hard can it be? Go into some club where supernatural freaks legally drink human blood and fuck each other. Look menacing while you try to get the owner of the club to sign on for your coup to dethrone Fortis.”
Baxter’s little smile freaked me the hell out. There was definitely more going on here than he had briefed me on. But what was I supposed to do?
I had even more incentive to get these little tasks of his over and done with and escape. Get back to Blaire, wherever the fuck she was.
Get as far away from auburn hair and smooth skin, and eyes that pierced me … and smells that made me lust.
I didn’t want what Blaire had with Roman. I didn’t want to be stuck, tied to someone I didn’t get to choose for myself, because the primitive beast living inside of me craved her. I didn’t want to sicken if we were apart the way Blaire had.
Not even the hottest sex in the world could be worth that.
No, I had to toe the line with Baxter. And I had to get out before I lost my fucking mind over her … Seven? Was that really her name?
I’d heard the scientists who’d drawn my blood muttering about a ‘Twelve’ and a ‘Nineteen’ as well.
Fucking Baxter couldn’t even be bothered to give them names. They were all just numbers to him.
And what did that make me?
I was too stuck in my own head to notice the jerky landing or pay much mind as we filed off the jet and onto a tarmac. The night air was cool, but I barely got a chance to feel it on my skin before I was hustled into a waiting Jeep.
My first time out of continental USA, and I was with a bunch of people who hated me, doing something I didn’t want to do because I was a fucking monster that I’d never asked to become.
Fuck my life.
“ T his is fucking whimsical,” I muttered as we approached the towering Japanese Pagoda, the centerpiece of Tivoli Gardens, lit up like a rainbow in the midnight sky. It reflected over the manmade lake, complete with little gondolas, roped up at the shore now that the park was closed. “Who picked a theme park as the location for an immortal sex dungeon?”
One of the agents chuckled at my lame attempt at a joke. Baxter shot him a murderous look, then turned to me.
“It’s amazing how much historically significant real estate one can amass when one is immortal and, until recently, able to steal and kill without any repercussions.” Baxter’s voice was pure venom. “Men, secure the perimeter. Jack and I will go down alone.”
The tall agent who had sneered at me on the plane stepped forward. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?” he asked. “You’re unarmed, what if—”
Baxter chuckled darkly. “I’m not unarmed. I have the best weapon I could possibly take into this meeting.” He reached up and ruffled my hair. Like I was a bloody dog getting a head scratch.
I tried to let the rage wash past me, but it got its claws in. And my claws started to ache to come out.
Not now. Not yet. Wait.
Baxter’s hand on my back propelled me up the steps and towards the door. I shrugged him off, taking the last few steps and pushing into the building.
Inside, it was dark. Eerily dark, seeing as just outside, the entire building was lit up like a Christmas tree. There were tables and chairs throughout the space. I guessed that during opening hours, it was some sort of restaurant.
“Head for the kitchen,” Baxter urged in a low voice, pointing towards a double door at the far end of the room. I strode off, wishing I could shake the feeling that I was about to walk into something crazy dangerous.
My fingertips tingled, and I clenched my fists. My jaw ached. My eyesight sharpened. My nostrils flared.
Had they forgotten to dose me? I had no idea what time it was, back wherever they’d been keeping me. Or was this just more of the monster breaking loose of the drugs?
“Ah, good. The beast awakens. I may need some of that … extra muscle, if this meeting goes sideways,” Baxter muttered, stopping me just shy of the door into the kitchen and pointing downward. At my feet was what looked like a trapdoor, the kind many restaurants had that led to an underground wine cellar.
“Well, I didn’t bring you along just to look pretty, Jack. Open it.”
Bristling at his tone, feeling the points of teeth pressing against my lips, I bent, reaching for the silver ring that was inset into the panel and tugged.
It swung open with ease.
“Gee, that was hard,” I said sarcastically. Baxter glared at me as if I were a complete moron.
“Only someone with Stranger blood can open it safely. One of the reasons I brought you. Good to know that hybrid blood still counts.”
I blinked at him. “Open it safely? What happens if you don’t have the right blood?”
Baxter watched me intensely for a moment.
“Your hand gets shredded.”
Claws burst out of my fingertips. “And you weren’t sure that my half-blood would do the trick?” I asked, my voice gone deep, throaty. Almost a growl. My muscles ached. Oh shit. I was growing.
Baxter’s eyes darted up to my face, then back to my body.
“Calm yourself, Jack. They won’t let you in if you’ve shifted. Human form only. Think about the end game. Think about Blaire.”
“I have no idea how to control it,” I snarled back, but I took a deep breath and another.
Get through this. Tick this task off.
Get back to her.
I knew the ‘her’ the beast inside me was referring to wasn’t Blaire. But the thought seemed to work. My muscles deflated a little. I was still bigger than normal, but not to the point where I would be suspicious.
The teeth and claws … that was another story.
“Okay. We can work with this,” Baxter said. His body was tense, his jaw tight.
He’s scared of you. He’s scared to go down there.
Good.
“Just … keep your mouth shut and your fingers concealed. And down you go.”
I looked down at the narrow metal staircase descending into pitch blackness. A wave of terror washed over me, but I wouldn’t let it take control. Wouldn’t let it force the shift again.
Get control. For her.
I’d use whatever I could to get through this. Even if it meant letting the monster in me think I was doing this for her … for Seven.
I took the first step into the darkness.