At least she (kind of) fit in. There was a flaw in McKell’s logic, though. A shy, demure girl would not dress up. A shy, demure girl would not be here, soliciting attention.
She downed the rest of her second drink, then pretended to stumble forward, planning a quick recon mission around the dance floor. Only, three steps in, someone finally approached her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she replied.
For several agonizing minutes, she flirted with him. All the while, his gaze flittered between her lips and her br**sts. Fangs never sprouted, but what did she know? Finally, she said, “Let’s go somewhere private.”
He readily agreed, and she led him to the back of the building, past the door. Cool air caressed her, and so did the guy, his fingers skimming the curve of her ass.
She jumped out of his reach. “Don’t touch the goods.”
“Human,” McKell said, stepping from the shadows. His features were taut, his hands fisted.
Great. All that flirting, wasted.
“What’s going on?” the guy asked, nervously glancing between them. “You robbing me? Well, the joke’s on you. I don’t have any cash.”
McKell fisted his shirt and propelled him into the wall, then motioned Ava back inside with his free hand.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said.
“I’ll use my voice on him. Swear.”
“Okay. I’m trusting you.”
“Let me go,” the guy begged, perhaps sensing the menace that constantly poured off of the vampire. “Please.”
McKell held tight as Ava entered the building. Determined, she wound her way through the crowd, loosening her tie and unfastening several buttons on her shirt, displaying the lacy edges of her bra, but more importantly, displaying the thudding pulse at the base of her neck. That drew attention, all right, but still not the right kind. Four more men hit on her and all four were human.
On that fourth trip outside, she noticed a new smattering of blood on the concrete, and realized McKell was punching the guys before sending them on their way. She didn’t scold him. Most likely she would have done the same thing, had the situation been reversed.
Still. This was getting old, she thought, trekking back inside.
Two males stopped her before she reached the bar. Both were handsome, and both were switching their focus between her mouth and her br**sts, just like the others. These two were of the faux-leather variety, with spiked collars, and crimson-colored makeup painted to look like blood trickling from their mouths.
Fake vampires, for sure. She almost brushed past them. Almost. They were tall, as muscled as McKell, and danger radiated from them. So did hunger. Maybe … maybe the painted “blood” was their version of hiding in plain sight.
“Would you like to retire to the back rooms with us?” one asked, and there was something strange about his formal words and deep voice. Something … distracting, whisking through her mind, making her forget … what? who?
McKell. His name blasted through her mind, and she recalled that she was here to hunt.
“So … would you?” the other asked silkily.
She didn’t want to, wanted to take them outside, but … no, actually, she did want to go to the back room. Her blood was heating, her body humming. Touching these men would be nice.
Ava frowned, shook her head. That wasn’t right. The only man she wanted to touch was McKell.
McKell.
Again, his name returned her to her senses. He was the reason she was here. Hunting vampires. “I’d rather go outside,” she said. “Out back.”
“No. You want to go to one of the back rooms.”
Yes. That’s what she wanted. Wanted so badly. “Let’s go, then.”
Both men smiled happily, as if they’d never doubted their appeal. And maybe they hadn’t. There was something strange about them, something she should know, and that voice … her mind fuzzed, and she lost her train of thought.
They wrapped their arms around her waist and ushered her to the back of the club, where several open doorways loomed. They urged her through the middle one. Why was she allowing them to lead her, again?
Inside, the smoky air thinned, the bubbles cleared, and she saw several black couches. All occupied. Men and women, men and men, women and women. Roaming hands, straining bodies. Moans and groans. Sex scenting the air. No biting, though. Biting, like McKell needed—
Once more, she was jarred back into focus. McKell. Vampire. Hunting.
“Come,” one of her companions said, urging her the rest of the way inside.
Hunting smunting. “Yes, I—No.” She shook her head, and pressed her weight into her heels. God, what was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be doing this. Didn’t want to do this. Only one man tempted her. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this,” she said, pushing her thoughts out of her mouth.
She managed to disengage from their arms and stride away before they could speak. Why had she even considered being with them? She was McKell’s. Kind of.
Behind her, she heard sputtering, but the men didn’t chase after her. Good. She would have had to kill them. Although, she should be escorting them—
Them. She skidded to a halt, frowned. “Them” who? She’d just come from outside, and McKell had just proclaimed her fourth guy human. Right? She looked around. She stood in a hallway, naked bodies painted on the walls. How had she gotten here?
What the hell was going on?
Just find McKell one more person and call it a night. There were rooms behind her, she realized. She changed directions and peeked into all three, finding drug users and various sexual acts being performed, but no vampires. Meaning, no one had tapped into a vein like a beer keg.
But in the middle room, she spotted two men standing near the doorway. They were handsome, as large as McKell, and they watched her intently, hungrily. For some reason, that made her uneasy. The unease intensified when she backtracked into the club and they followed her.
Get away, instinct demanded. Smoke once again enveloped her, hiding her—but in the next instant, she forgot why she wanted to hide. Forgot the men.
Just one more person, she reminded herself, marching onto the dance floor and winding through the writhing bodies. Hands reached for her, hips bumped against her. She allowed the music to sink into her bones and propel her into motion, swaying, grinding. Hopefully luring. All the while her gaze scanned.
A few seconds later, she spotted two faux vampires dancing with a blond female. They seemed familiar somehow, made her heart leap in … fear? As if she’d dealt with them before. But that couldn’t be right. That … she had dealt with them, she realized. She’d spoken with them. They’d taken her into that hallway, then somehow made her forget she’d ever met them, and only when she’d thought of McKell had her wits returned.