A few days ago, Ewan might’ve counted himself lucky that the vampire had become scarce. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. Though really, Sasha could’ve taken up residence on another planet and it wouldn’t have been far enough to keep her out of his thoughts. Ewan didn’t know much about Sasha, but one thing he knew with certainty: she was chasing a thrill. He wouldn’t find her in some nightclub or coffee shop. She wouldn’t be hanging out at a concert, or a bar, or any other mundane, overdone, tired location. Sasha craved danger. Excitement. She wanted to push the boundaries of her comfort zone and maybe even scare herself a little. She wanted to feel alive. He knew because he had the same wants and needs. It was part of what had sent him to the battle arena in the first place. He’d find her. Eventually. He simply needed to look in the right place.
Ewan should have known Gregor would use the information he’d given him to his advantage. Rather than take Ewan to task for not killing Sasha on sight, Gregor found an opportunity to infiltrate his enemies from the inside. He planned to use this notion of a mate bond to his advantage in the hopes that Sasha would somehow trust Ewan enough to allow him entrance to her world. Knowing the location of her coven would afford Gregor the opportunity to ambush it and kill every vampire and dhampir within its confines. Ewan’s gut soured at the thought even though it was an optimistic plan, one that was more likely to fail than succeed. Sasha might have claimed some mystical force bound her to him but that didn’t mean she was going to bring Ewan home to meet the fam.
None of it mattered, however, if he couldn’t find her first. She’d abandoned the fighting venues. Ewan hadn’t fought since the night he’d come clean to Gregor, a fact that had Drew cranky and on edge. His cousin was already in too deep and Ewan refused to bring him in any deeper. He told Drew simply that he had to put fighting on the back burner until things cooled down with Gregor and his attention wandered elsewhere. Drew wasn’t buying it. He was convinced Gregor was setting them up, allowing for a false sense of security, in order to take them down nice and hard later on. It had taken Ewan a good day to convince Drew that he’d be fine as long as he kept his nose to the ground, business as usual. In turn, Drew had insisted on coming along as backup for whatever tasks Gregor had set out for Ewan. Of course he’d refused, telling Drew that for now, keeping his zero accountability status was more important than anything else.
But damn it, finding Sasha might’ve been a hell of a lot easier with some backup.
In reality, supernatural creatures had very little to fear. With their virtual immortality came very minimal risk. They were impervious to most hurts, were incredibly fast and strong. The battle arena drew crowds and participants alike because the stakes were high. Wherever Sasha chose to spend her nights now would carry the same sorts of risks. Anything else would bore her.
Gods, he wished he knew what he was looking for. High-stakes betting? Contests? Tests of strength or stamina? Where would she go? What would she do if, like Ewan, she was trying to forget the electricity that sparked between them?
Perhaps the thrill Sasha sought had nothing to do with violence at all. Ewan’s jaw squared with anger and his teeth ground together as realization struck. Sex. That was the thrill she’d sought the night they met. What better way to banish an old lover from your mind than to take a new one?
Motherfucker. If any male so much as laid a finger on Sasha, Ewan was going to gut him.
There were plenty of sex clubs in Los Angeles but few that catered to specifically supernatural clientele. Power flooded Ewan’s bloodstream as anger transformed to rage. The unfamiliar jealousy was like fire in his veins. He’d never experienced anything like it before. Unnerving. And a damned nuisance.
Why should he give a single shit who the vampire fucked? Despite her assertion to the contrary, Ewan had no claim on her. He cupped his right palm over his throat. The sensation of her bite was branded in his memory, still so visceral it caused his cock to stir behind his fly. He’d turned her away. Treated her with disgust and disdain. Why wouldn’t she go in search of another male in order to put Ewan out of her mind? He wouldn’t blame her for the retaliation, but he sure as shit didn’t have to be happy about it.
Ewan climbed into the beat-up Honda Civic that was barely big enough to accommodate his large frame. He knew of a place in West Hollywood that was bound to draw Sasha’s attention. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest. He should leave her alone and let whatever this was between them wallow in its death throes. Instead, he was letting Gregor use him and their supposed bond in order to protect his real secret from being found out.
So yeah, he was a total piece of shit. Then again, Sasha would be wise not to expect anything but betrayal from someone that for all intents and purposes was an enemy.
Ewan tried not to think too hard about the path Gregor had set him on as he pulled into a parking space on Santa Monica Boulevard. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. Some small part of him hoped he wouldn’t find Sasha inside the club, while the rest of him knew without a doubt he’d see her. And when he did, the gods help anyone that was within touching distance of her.
Ewan got out of the car and walked across the street to North La Brea. He walked a block or so, toward what appeared to be a clothing boutique. The signage read Sugar Plums and looked like the sort of place trendy starlets came to blow a few thousand dollars on a fucking blouse. The boutique was closed but Ewan knew it was only a front. He walked around to the back of the building and knocked at the service entrance. He was greeted by a lithe, buxom fae dressed in tight black leather and combat boots. Her bright violet eyes raked him from head to toe and a wry smile settled on her full crimson lips.
“Pay to play, berserker.” She held out her hand, palm up.
Ewan’s lip curled. Of course this would cost him money. “How much?”
The fae rested her shoulder against the doorjamb as she continued to study him with interest. “Two hundred.”
Great. Ewan fished inside his pocket and retrieved four fifty-dollar bills. He slapped them into the fae’s waiting hand and her grin widened.
“Have fun.” Ewan stepped forward and she placed the pad of her index finger against his chest, pressing into him as her expression became serious. “But not too much fun. Behave yourself down there and don’t play rough.” The smile returned to her face. “Unless someone asks you to, that is.” She lowered her arm and stepped aside to allow Ewan entrance.
She might’ve played it cool, but Ewan recognized the anxious tang of her scent. He doubted a berserker had ever frequented the place and that was bound to make anyone nervous. They weren’t exactly known for their even tempers and gentle ways. Berserkers were killing machines and good for little else. Some of the rumors that circulated about them suggested they were celibate and behaved as priests under the Sortiari’s direction. Others thought them to be unequipped for anything but fighting and killing. Smooth like a Ken doll. Ewan let out a disdainful snort. He’d fucked his way across the city when they first came to L.A. His equipment worked just fine. It was simply a matter of his partners not wanting it out that they’d fucked a monster.
From the stockroom, a set of stairs led down into a basement. Lights flickered and music played from the secret supernatural sex club that operated beneath the boutique. With every step he took, Ewan’s gut clenched tighter. His nerves were raw, his senses on edge. He couldn’t afford to lose control, but if he found Sasha down there, all bets were off.
Ewan reached the bottom step and took in his surroundings. The air was thick with lust. Heady to the point that the scent nearly made him drunk. A long, dark corridor stretched out toward a central lounge and from there, two more corridors jutted off at either end that led to private rooms and smaller lounges. The individual scent signatures of all the creatures present mingled into one, confusing Ewan’s senses. He tried to pick Sasha’s spicy cinnamon from the mix but came up short. Frustration tightened his muscles as he walked deeper into the club.
On a raised stage in the center of the main lounge, females danced and twined their naked bodies around poles, dipping and twisting toward onlookers, eager for their outstretched hands and gentle touches. At the far end of the main lounge, partially shrouded in darkness, naked bodies writhed as couples, and even small groups, fucked for the entertainment of those around them.
Ewan’s blood pumped hard and fast through his veins as he scanned the crowd for any sign of Sasha. A vampire would be a rare prize in this place. He suspected that wherever she was, she’d no doubt gathered several eager admirers. Ewan let his instinct guide him as he wound his way through the lounge toward the corridor that jutted off to the right. The faintest hint of cinnamon mixed with something deep and musky hit his nostrils and he said a silent prayer that his nose was wrong even though he already knew the truth.
Sasha was here. And she wasn’t alone.
* * *
Sasha had started out the night with Lucas but she hadn’t finished it with him. They’d hit several downtown clubs, danced, drank, flirted, and laughed. They’d had a great time and Sasha truly liked him. But she grew too restless for what she now considered mundane entertainment. Her mind was too full of Ewan to settle down. Lucas wasn’t quite as innocent as Sasha had first assumed, but he was still far too tame for this place. And so, they’d parted ways so she could go out and find a distraction that would once and for all banish the dangerously attractive berserker from her thoughts.
Sure, she could’ve hooked up with some random male at Onyx or the Dragon’s Den, but an encounter like that would’ve lacked the thrill Sasha had quickly become accustomed to during her brief encounters with Ewan. She’d only been with him twice but already he’d ruined her for other males. Gods. Fate really did have it out for her. She had one goal tonight: get that big, muscled, gruff, asshole of a sex god out of her system. Period. She’d fuck every last male in the city if that’s what it took. The berserker couldn’t possibly be the only good lay in the city.
“What sort of fun are you looking for tonight?”
Sasha turned to the source of the deep rumbling voice and smiled wide to showcase her fangs. The male wasn’t bad looking. Shifter. A few inches taller than her with a lean, sculpted frame, strong jaw, and high cheekbones. His hair was a few shades darker than Ewan’s, and his eyes blue instead of light, haunting brown. Neither did he tower over her or make her feel small with his bulk. And he didn’t carry himself with the same brazen arrogance. The shifter might’ve thought he was a badass, but Sasha had yet to meet anyone as menacing, dangerous, and completely thrilling as Ewan. This male was like a shitty carbon copy from an obsolete Xerox machine. All he’d manage would be to disappoint her. Time to move on.
Like everyone Sasha came into contact with, the second the shifter took stock of her fangs his demeanor changed. His smile grew. His eyes widened a fraction of an inch and shone with a greedy light. His scent intensified with desire and he took a step closer. One of the problems with being unique.
“Whatever it is,” Sasha replied, “it isn’t going to include you. Sorry.”
The cool rebuff did little to deter him. He took another step closer and reached out to seize her wrist in his hand. Moments like these made Sasha second-guess her decision to live her life out in the open. She was desirable because she was different. Exotic. An endangered creature rarely seen in the wild. A prize for any hunter, and make no mistake, the supernatural world was populated with predators. Her uniqueness didn’t make her public property, however. It didn’t give him—or anyone—the right to touch her, demand a piece of her, or anything else. If he thought he was entitled to any little bit of her, he had another think coming.
“I think you’ve forgotten where you are tonight, little vampire.” The shifter leaned in close and put his mouth to Sasha’s ear as he spoke. His grip tightened on her wrist as he guided her hand to his cock. “Everyone plays. Or you go home.”
Sasha’s muscles tensed as a wave of angry annoyance stole over her. “I’m not sure what you think you’re entitled to”—she jerked her hand from his grip—“but it sure as hell isn’t me. I said I don’t want you. I’m not sure how much clearer I can be. Leave me alone before I’m tempted to sink my fangs into your throat and drink you dry.”
The threat of violence only seemed to encourage him. Great. He reached for her again, this time wrapping his arms around her waist and hauling her body roughly against his. “Perfect.” He reached up and wound his fist in the length of her hair to keep her immobile. “I like it rough, and I don’t mind a little fight.”
Oh, he was going to get more than a little fight. Before Sasha could swing out with her fist, the shifter turned and put her back to the nearest wall. It was the same tactic Ewan had used in the stockroom, but the shifter lacked her mate’s charisma, finesse, and raw sexual allure. Was he really so stupid as to think he could force her? Or maybe he thought she was playing some sort of game? Did she need a safe word? Gods, she didn’t know. Either way, the male was about to receive a serious wake-up call. Time to show the unruly shifter what happened when you tangled with a vampire.
Before Sasha could act, the shifter was ripped away from her. Strong arms pulled him from her body and tossed him against the far wall like he was nothing more than a rag doll. Sasha turned toward her high-handed rescuer and her breath caught in her chest. Ewan was magnificent in his rage, eyes dark and inky black, muscles bulging, chest heaving, and his full lips pulled back in a menacing snarl.
“Touch her again and I’ll rip your arms from the sockets.”
His accent thickened with his anger and a thrill chased through Sasha’s bloodstream. Gods-damn it, why was he the only male on the face of the earth who could affect her in this way? It was completely unfair.
The shifter dragged in several ragged breaths. “Take your hands off me, you disgusting piece of shit. Do you think I’m scared of you? You’re the dregs at the bottom of the supernatural barrel.”
Sasha wanted to tell the male that it probably wasn’t a good idea to insult a berserker warlord, but it looked as though Ewan was about to get the point across on his own just fine. Sasha hung back, her shoulder blades still pressed against the wall, hands splayed beside her. Her heart beat a mad rhythm in her chest and her breath raced. Ewan excited her like no other male could.
Rather than give the shifter what he wanted, Ewan smiled at the insult. Somehow the expression was more frightening than an angry scowl. The calm before the storm. Black bled into his irises and the inky tendrils reached out into the whites. When possessed by rage, Ewan truly was a terrifying sight. The shifter’s scent changed, the first indication that his cocky show was nothing more than bravado.
Ewan wrapped his hand around the shifter’s throat. The act was done with such measured calm—almost lovingly—that it sent a chill over Sasha’s skin. His fist contracted and the shifter squirmed and clawed at Ewan’s hand as he tried to free himself from the unyielding iron grip. Sasha had seen Ewan kill. She’d bore witness to his cold, cruel determination. But in those cases, both participants had been willing parties, aware of the consequences. If Ewan killed the shifter, it would be cold-blooded murder.
“Don’t.” Sasha kept her tone calm and even. She pushed away from the wall and moved to stand behind Ewan. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and the muscles there flexed beneath her palm. The shifter was a son of a bitch, no doubt about that, but Sasha had been holding her own before Ewan intervened. He didn’t deserve to die.
The shifter’s face turned red as desperate gasps died in his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head as Ewan’s fist constricted tighter. Tighter … Sasha’s fingertips dug into his shoulder as the tension stretched out for another moment. Ewan released his hold and the shifter crumpled to the floor. He massaged his throat as he sucked in frantic gulps of air into his lungs. Gold sparked in his blue gaze that narrowed on Ewan and then Sasha. He didn’t say a word, though. Didn’t move. After a moment, his gaze dropped to the floor in a show of submission.
Sasha let out a slow, shuddering breath as the tension drained out of her body. Gods. That could have been a disaster.
Ewan turned and seized Sasha by the wrist. He looked from one open doorway to another and steered her in the direction of the first available room. She was getting pretty damned tired of high-handed males hauling her around without at least first asking how she felt about it. Sasha resisted his pull and he turned to bestow upon her a look that was part lust, part unchecked anger, and part stunned disbelief.
“We can do this in that room”—he jerked his chin toward the doorway—“or right here in the fucking hallway. Take your pick.”
Gods, what did he plan to do to her? A pleasant rush fanned outward from Sasha’s stomach through her limbs. He shouldn’t have excited her like he did. She should have been annoyed. Angry. Repulsed. Even a little fucking scared! But when it came to the rough and demanding berserker, Sasha found that she had no self-control. No pride. No fear. Not an ounce of damned sense. And it needed to stop.
“You insult me, turn me away, treat me like dirt on the bottom of your shoe, and you expect me to fall into line and obey your orders without question?” Sasha let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. “Sorry, but it’s not going to happen.”
Ewan’s gaze narrowed but it remained the beautiful tawny golden brown that she loved so much. His finger jutted out toward the doorway. “Get in that room, Sasha. Now.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “No.”
“All right.” He took a step toward her. “You asked for it.”
Well, shit. She had asked for it, hadn’t she?