Once we rounded the group, we moved back into our companionable walk, crossing Magazine as we drew closer to The Green Light.

“Are you going to tell me the plan or keep me in suspense?” she asked.

“We’d like you to be the next kidnapping victim,” I said through gritted teeth. “Ruben convinced me that you wouldn’t be in danger, but…”

My heart hammered at the idea of her playing bait, but I understood the advantages of having someone in on the scheme rather than us finding some poor innocent.

She nudged my arm with her elbow. “But you think there is?”

I pulled her to a stop right outside the alley leading to The Green Light. I squeezed her upper arm gently, my thumb brushing a slow circle. “Ruben has a guy who can track vampires when they’re tracing, so I’m positive we could follow and find you within minutes of the capture. That’s if they take the bait. One reason I need to know now is so I can plant the persuasion glamour in Darren’s mind. But…” I glanced down the alley, tightening my grip on her arm before I slid my hand down, engulfing hers in a comforting grip. “There’s always a chance something could go wrong. That small percentage of unexpected error is killing me.”

She swallowed hard, perusing my face. I’m sure she could see the concern written on my face, but it was nothing compared to the tumultuous storm brewing at the thought of her coming to harm in this scheme of ours.

Her eyes brightened as she gave me a reassuring smile. “Well, someone has to be the bait, right? Better me who would be prepared and in on the plan than some poor girl who could be scarred for life by the experience.”

I released a shaky breath. “Somehow, I knew that would be your reaction.” My gaze drifted over her hair, neck, and mouth, remembering the silken warmth of her. “We’d need someone else to come with you. It would look too strange for you to be hanging out by yourself,” I added. “Maybe one of your sisters?”

“Yeah. Maybe Livvy. Blake Bellingrath saw my sisters at the last Summit cocktail party and would know them on sight.”

I dipped my chin then ushered her back down the alley where customers headed for the entrance to The Green Light.

I stepped ahead of us up to the nondescript door. The only marking to show this wasn’t just an alleyway entrance to a kitchen was the gaslit lantern flickering with green flame. And the six-and-a-half foot tall, well-dressed vampire guarding it. Though his face was shadowed, his eyes glinted silver, his vampire instincts on alert as the bouncer.

“Good evening, Roland,” I said.

“Devraj,” he said, nodding and pushing the door open, then holding it for us.

Most vampire dens were dark and covered in red velvet and black satin, some metal band screaming in the background. But Ruben’s place reflected the man himself. Sophisticated and seductive.

The décor reminded me of something you might find in a posh lounge in the 1920s, the booths and chairs luxurious and oversized like you’d expect in a mansion, not a nightclub. The glow from warm gas lanterns and candles shimmered on the faces of the humans and vampires enjoying each other’s company. Small chandeliers added an opulent touch to a dancefloor centered before a small stage where a few couples danced.

The bubble of laughter and murmur of happy patrons filled the room, and the music came from the stage where a man played an acoustic guitar, his warm voice singing a masculine rendition of “I Know You” by Skylar Grey. A werewolf actually, not a man.

“Hey, there’s Nico,” Isadora murmured. “Evie’s boyfriend Mateo’s cousin. He works at the Cauldron sometimes.”

I acknowledged with a nod, and then a woman stood before us.

“Mr. Kumar, I have your table right over here.”

The hostess, a statuesque blonde in a white latex dress led the way through the tables in her red stiletto heels. Though the club was posh and the employees dressed formally, people milled about in casual clusters.

The hostess stopped before a booth and lifted the Reserved placard. It was a nicely situated booth in the middle of the room where you could see the bar and the stage and anyone walking in the door with perfect ease.

I nudged Isadora into the booth then leaned down to her ear. “I’ll grab us something at the bar. What would you like?”

“Water is fine.”

I wound through the tables to the bar and signaled the bartender.

“What’ll it be, Devraj?”

“Maker’s Mark on the rocks and a water.”

He nodded then meandered back to fix the drinks, while I tuned into the conversations around the room. Nothing too intriguing at first. Just flirtations and sexual innuendo, basic club talk, then a name caught my attention from the two vampires at the end of the bar.

“Blake was fucking pissed, bro,” said the dark-haired guy. “But his parents were done with them both.”

“Adam, too?” asked the other one.

“Yeah. Apparently, they’d embarrassed dear old mom and dad one too many times after their arrests at that vampire club at New Year’s. They’re using that tough love shit to try to get them back in line.”

“But, completely cut them off?” the other one asked. “How the fuck do they still have money? I saw Blake buying drinks for his boys last weekend at Tipitina’s. Didn’t look that broke to me.”

Tipitina’s was a popular spot for small band venues uptown.

“They were for a while, but seems they’ve fallen into some money somehow. Who the fuck knows?”

I did. I knew exactly where he and his brother were getting the money. Or at least where Blake was. Darren had never said anything about Blake’s brother nor did I see him when I read Darren’s memories. But now I knew what had motivated at least Blake to start his own blood trafficking ring. I shot a quick text to Ruben, letting him know what I’d just discovered.

“Here you go,” said the bartender, setting down my drinks.

I paid him then headed back to Isadora. She looked so demure and beautiful, the sight of her increasing the pressure behind my sternum. One night wasn’t enough. Desire seemed a feeble and weak word to describe what I felt for the sweet witch sitting in that booth. All I knew was that whatever this was, I wanted more. Much more.

Chapter 18

~ISADORA~

I couldn’t help but stare. He looked crazy hot tonight. Dark jeans and gray T-shirt covered mostly by a black leather jacket, his hair loose and long like it was at his house last night. He caught me staring as he headed toward me with drinks in hand, his smile deadly and knowing and his eyes burning with a silvery heat I knew far too well.

Flustered, I jerked my attention to Nico. He had a hypnotic voice—smooth and deep with a touch of husky. He played his guitar with swift, elegant movements of his fingers.

I didn’t look over when Devraj scooted into the booth from the other side, pressing close, his thigh a burning line alongside mine. I lifted the water and took a sip. “So this is a vampire den.”

“That, it is.” I felt the caress of his gaze. “Not what you expected?”

“Not really. It’s missing that dark Goth element.”

He laughed, drawing my focus back to him. He sipped his whiskey, his amber gaze steady on me. “Kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “I suppose I should’ve known better. This is definitely more Ruben’s style.” I scanned the place, almost amused that people mingled here like any other bar. “So how does it work?”

“What do you mean? How do you find and proposition a blood host?”

Nodding, I then took another sip of water.

“Like any other pick-up bar actually. You talk, mingle, dance. When a human seems compatible and receptive, you ask if they’ll be your blood host.”

I watched a hot vampire across the club in a booth like ours. He had his arm draped along the back, running his fingers along the other man’s nape. The auburn-haired guy smiled and nodded, obviously enjoying his company. “Just as simple as that?” My heartbeat had skyrocketed, pumping blood through my veins like a rushing river. My emotions were a mixture of jealousy and desire, despising the women he’d drank from in the past, knowing the pleasure they’d enjoyed from him. “Then what?”

His thigh pressed against mine as he pointed his beringed finger in front of me. “Then we go behind that red velvet curtain and take care of business.”

I looked where he pointed, noting the shadowy corner, covered by red velvet, one of Ruben’s men discreetly placed outside the seductive entry.

Vampire dens were called such because they offered a place for blood-drinking. A safe place where vampires could drink from their host and the host could rest and recover from the high of the vampire toxin. It reminded me of an opium den. After one tiny drop of Devraj’s toxin, I imagined it was a lot like that. I’d be high out of my mind. And aroused.

The hot vampire across the club stood and offered his hand to the auburn-haired guy, who took it immediately. The vampire led him, hand lacing with the other man’s, to the red velvet curtain. With a subtle nod by the guard, they disappeared behind the curtain together.

I suddenly shivered, remembering the potent pleasure that sung through my veins when I’d nicked my tongue on Devraj’s canine. When I turned my head to look at him, his heated gaze was fixed on me. Like he knew exactly what I’d been thinking.

“Is it all business?” I whispered.

“There is pleasure in it.” Dark, intimate words.

“And sex?” I knew what Ruben thought of this practice according to Tia, but I simply had to know what Devraj’s view was on the issue.

“No,” he responded with emphasis, his silver-glinting eyes never leaving mine. “Sex and blood-drinking isn’t a safe combination.”

“Why not?”

“Because the host is too vulnerable, weakened but highly aroused by the toxin. It can make the host irrationally obsessed with the vampire.” He swept my hair behind my shoulder, his hand covering my nape, thumb brushing gently, his gaze following the movement. “There are some vampires who may take advantage in this way, but I don’t.”