Undying Embrace (9 page)

Chapter Seven

Elle had anticipated many things when they’d stepped into Wicked Ways tonight, but she’d never thought Arran would set them up to be sitting ducks.

“So would you like to clue me in on this plan of yours, since I’m sure by now that Rose has told every vampire in the place that we’re here?” She walked over to the one-way glass. On the other side of the window, the crowd rocked to the chorus of “My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark.” How ironic. She smirked. If most of the humans actually knew what happened within the red walls of Wicked Ways when the sun went down they would run screaming for their lives. If only her sister had known what she’d been walking into. Her stomach cramped at the image racing through her mind depicting Alex beneath a horde of DEADs, her mouth gaped in a soundless cry for help.

Her vision clouding behind unshed tears, she tried to focus on the dance floor and its mesmerizing scene of strobe lights. They blinked on and off over an erotic mass of pure sex moving in time to the beat of the music. She lowered her lashes and dropped her head back, concentrating on the music. The bass thumped inside her head, her body. If only things were different, her sister was home safe, there were no monsters to destroy, and she could let go, get swept away, just for tonight.

A large hand wrapped around her waist and another dropped on her hip, putting a stop to their sway. She hadn’t even realized she’d been moving. Arran pressed against her rear. The warmth of his body and the hard evidence at her backside shook her back into the reality of their situation.

“Did you want to hear about my plan, or do you have something else in mind we could be doing?” His deep voice caressed her ear. “Because if you don’t stop right now, I can’t promise to behave myself.”

“Oh…yeah…of course.” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she shook her head. Is that what happened to her sister? She understood now how this place could make a person forget about the rest of the world. It was a force unto itself. Sighing, she pulled herself away from the window, turning so that she faced Arran. He stared at her with those sexy green eyes that made her weak. She maneuvered around him and tried to find some space in the small rectangle Wicked Ways called a room. “Sorry about that,” she said over her shoulder. “Guess I zoned out for a moment.” She plopped back down on the bench. “Okay, spill it.”

Elle listened as Arran let her in on why he’d made sure the server named Rose had sniffed him out. She knew Rose would have been able to tell by his scent that he was a vampire, but she was surprised to learn Rose would have also detected that he was more than a century old. Not someone a master of a colony would like to find wandering in his territory. Even Elle knew that. And a sure ticket for them to a front-row seat before the owner of the club: the former master of Fairfield’s colony. Information Arran said he’d gained a few nights ago from a young vampire named David.

A knock sounded at the door, and the curtain slid back before either of them had a chance to speak. She jumped to her feet as a bald man, who had to be near seven feet tall with skin the color of dark chocolate, entered the small room and swallowed all the square footage in the process. His dark gaze fell upon Arran. The former Enclave warrior eased onto his feet, his gaze never straying off their unexpected guest. The giant slid his upper lip back off the largest set of fangs she’d ever seen in her life. Holy shit, he was one big-ass vampire.

“You.” Giant aimed his index finger at Arran. “Come with me.” His baritone voice vibrated like a bass drum in her chest.

“Please?” her date added. What was he thinking, antagonizing the giant freak of a vampire?

A growl rumbled from the big guy’s chest that she swore rattled the mirror. She held her breath, waiting for his next move. Or Arran’s. This had all the signs of getting ugly. Really, really ugly.

“Fine.” Arran shrugged and moved forward. Elle released the pressurized air she’d been holding and followed. Two steps toward the exit, the big guy’s hand came out of nowhere and snagged her arm.

“Just him.”

“That’s nonnegotiable.” Arran stopped in his tracks, and the look he nailed the giant with over his shoulder was unmistakable:
Try me.

“Fine.” This time, vampire freak shrugged and let go of her arm. She smoothed the aching spot on her arm where he’d gripped her. Damn. That had been one hell of a testosterone and fang show. One point to team Arran.

He waited for the Goliath vampire to circle around him to lead them to his boss. So far, everything had gone according to plan. They followed as the vampire took them past the bar and through a small kitchen. The few staff they passed never looked up from their tasks. Not a bad idea. You can’t be a witness to what you never saw happen.

At the back of the kitchen, the guard opened a door and motioned for them to enter. Arran glanced over his shoulder and in her direction. Elle gave him a slight nod that said she was playing along, waiting for his next move.

…

The door he sent them through hid a stairwell that appeared to lead to an underground level. The wooden steps creaked under Arran’s weight as he descended. The only light in their path came from the red glow of the wall-mounted sconces lining the wall to his left.

By the time they’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Gabrielle’s heart pounded away in his head. He waited for her to come within arm’s reach at his side. Once there, he reached out and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her in close. She didn’t protest. He needed to keep up the pretense anyway; they were a couple out on a date. At least, that was his story.

Keeping pace with the guard, they crossed the expanse of the basement. The sudden intake of air from Gabrielle drew Arran’s attention. Her gaze was riveted to the various instruments lining one wall to their right. It seemed what David had told him about the former master and Markus had been true: their interest lay with the darker side of pleasure. Various whips, ball gags, and masks were out for display on a metal wall unit. And sitting below them, the pièce de résistance: a rack, complete with what looked like well-used leather restraints. Nice.

A shiver, coming off her, brought his attention back to the woman at his side. Yeah, his thoughts exactly. There were some serious Marquis de Sade fantasies happening here.

Their Goliath tour director of the underworld turned right and headed down a walled-off section of the basement. Arran started to follow, but the glint of metal caught his eye from the opposite end of the hall. He swung his head around.
Fuck.
He hadn’t seen cages like that in probably close to a hundred years. Not since the time he’d worked for the master of Eastern Virginia’s territory. There was no mistaking why this master possessed them: vampire imprisonment. Steel cages plated with silver to prevent a vampire from either manipulating the bars or phasing through them. If a vampire was stupid enough to try passing their molecules through the bars, he or she wouldn’t like the end results when they tried to put themselves back together again. Not pretty.

Arran’s gaze returned to the dark vampire who had halted at a large wooden door at the end of the hall. Well, damn, what an interesting assortment of goodies the former master had stashed away down here. It seemed he’d once wielded quite a bit of power.

The vampire guard rapped twice on the door with his knuckles, then twisted the knob and entered. He glanced over his shoulder and indicated with a jerk of his head for them to follow him inside. They entered the room to find an office, quite normal in appearance really, compared to the edgy shit they’d seen on the way in. A large wooden desk filled one wall of the room with a thick leather chair on the other side. Two straight-back chairs sat in front. An assortment of books lined the wall at the other end of the room, while a flat-screen TV sat right in the center. The image on the screen flicked every few seconds from various camera angles throughout the club. Good to know.

“Sit,” Goliath commanded in his deep caveman voice and pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk. After guiding Gabrielle to one of the chairs, Arran lowered himself into the other beside her.

As soon as his ass met the wood, another door, this one on the opposite wall of the one they’d come through, opened. A male, rather ordinary in appearance, sauntered into the room. His brown hair was slicked away from his face, thanks to the product he’d combed into it. The ends brushed the collar of the white button-down he wore beneath his average gray business suit. His clothes certainly didn’t scream power. But he carried the aura of someone used to demanding and having others who obeyed.
Hello, Fairfield’s
former
master.

He dropped into his seat behind the desk. The leather creaked as he adjusted his position and rolled his knees under the desktop. Silence was the only thing left hanging in the air as the vampire studied him and Gabrielle.

“I am Jean-Claude Desportes. And you are, monsieur?” Jean-Claude leaned against the back of his chair, rocking it with his weight. He rested his elbows on the arms of his black leather chair and steepled his fingers. The male sported a shitload of arrogance in front of the two guards who had filed into the room, replacing Goliath. They took their positions around their boss, flanking each side of his desk.

“Does it really matter?” Arran studied the lack of expression reflecting back at him from across the desk.
Control. Impressive
. On another day and in another place, he might have liked this male. But not tonight. His meeting with Jean-Claude served one purpose: to bring him closer to Markus, which in turn would take him to Marguerite. And he hoped—or didn’t hope—to Alexandria.

“You’re trespassing in my territory. And that means I at least get your name, and if it suits me, your head, for your disrespect.”

The former warrior held back from laughing at the humor that remark held. That feat would take more than what this pompous excuse had in the room. “I need you to get a message to someone for me.”

The wheels of the chair squealed as the French vampire pushed back and slammed his hands onto the desk. He loomed over the wooden top and the mounds of papers, his eyes cherry red and his fingers splayed, supporting the weight of his upper body. “Do I look like a fucking pigeon to you?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Arran didn’t miss the sudden move of JC’s suited guard dogs, but their boss’s hand leaving the desk halted their approach. Damn. He could have used the exercise.

“You have a lot of balls, or maybe you’re just fucking stupid, coming into my territory and insulting me.” JC’s gaze flicked from him to Gabrielle right before he lifted his chin in her direction. Arran caught the signal. There wasn’t time for a strategic plan, only basic elemental response. Kill or be killed. This was the world he knew. All too well.

Before the guard’s hand reached her throat, Arran flashed in front of Gabrielle. He seized the vampire’s forearm, and with one hard twist and the satisfying
snap
of bone, the male howled and sank to his knees. Arran dropped the vampire’s arm and whipped around, prepared to take the next one down, when the scene before him glued his boots to the floor.

And had his heart swelling with pride.

Gabrielle stood holding one of the wooden chairs upside down with the top of the backrest jammed beneath the other guard’s throat. Agonized moans rolled from the male beneath the chair, but the source of his pain wasn’t centered on the wood at his neck. Arran grinned. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had the vampire trying to regress into the position he’d last seen inside his mother’s womb. One look at the way his hands searched for the location his balls had last been told the whole story.

Oh, yeah, the little minx knew how to hit where it hurt. He’d have to remember that. But right now, the view of her and all those curves barely contained in skintight leather, and holding a full-grown male vampire to the floor… Damn, it was enough to risk the damage.

“
Assez!
”

The booming voice of the former master filled the room and brought everyone to a standstill. Even though the exact meaning of the word wasn’t understood, the method in which it was delivered crossed the language barrier. Arran watched proudly as Gabrielle yanked the chair away from the guard’s throat and shoved him across the floor. She stepped back, but her gaze remained fixed on the moaning vampire. Someday, he’d have to thank Logan for training her. She’d learned a valuable lesson: never take your eyes off a wounded predator. That was when they became the most dangerous.

Only three steps into her retreat, the guard flew from the floor and straight for her. The six-inch blade from Arran’s boot found its mark in the center of the bloodsucker’s heart. The screeching body fell to the floor at her feet. She stumbled back. Arran reached to steady her, but she’d recovered her balance. A
pop
and a
sizzle
released from the body as the silver took the male on his flaming road to hell.

“I said, enough!”

Arran jerked his head back in the direction of the former master’s bellow. Jean-Claude slammed his fist onto his desk, and then with both hands, swiped the top clean. Metal clattered to the floor, followed by a shower of white paper. “You son of a bitch, this is my territory—”

“Well, now, that’s just some fucked-up shit”—Arran cut him off and braced his palms on the empty spread of the desk, facing him—
“
because from what I hear, this isn’t your territory anymore.” Oh yeah, that info spill seemed to freeze the hinge on Jean-Claude’s jaw. It hung open, exposing the white tips of his unsheathed fangs. “That’s what I thought.” The lack of denial confirmed what the former warrior already knew. Arran straightened. “Tell Markus an old friend is in town and wants to see him. Here. Tonight.” He glanced to his right, and Gabrielle moved in. Arran looked back, meeting the former master’s fiery, narrowed gaze.

“Impossible,” he scoffed. “What makes you think Markus jumps when I call?” He pushed back in his chair. “Like you said, it’s not my territory anymore. You need to give me time to arrange a meeting with him myself to even deliver your invitation.”