She nodded. “We should find a place to rest for the day.”
“Oui.” Levet abruptly seemed to come awake, bouncing up and down on the seat. “Finding caves is my specialty.”
Santiago shuddered. Twelve hours stuck in a damp cave with this aggravating gargoyle? No way in hell.
Which was exactly why he’d chosen this particular route. Thank the gods.
“Actually Viper has a club not far from here.”
Nefri blinked, as if surprised by his claim. “Another club?”
“He has a dozen or more.” Santiago shrugged. “Some higher rent than others.”
Her brows drew together, no doubt expecting the usual offering of blood, sex, and violence. “And this one?”
“The Summerset Club is one of the more elegant establishments.” He sent her a wry grin. “Not one cage or orgy to be found.”
He expected a responding smile; instead Nefri studied him with an oddly searching gaze.
“Does it bother you?”
“Orgies?” He gave a teasing waggle of his brows. Not that he’d ever been into public displays. And now . . . he couldn’t imagine being intimate with any female but Nefri in public or private. “Not at all.”
She refused to be distracted. “The fighting.”
He knew what she meant. After spending centuries fighting for his life on a nightly basis, no one had been more shocked than he was when Viper suggested that he manage a club renowned for its cage matches.
But after spending time in the club, he finally realized it was exactly what he needed.
“Just the opposite,” he admitted, slowing the truck to take the off-ramp. “It’s cathartic.”
She cast a brief glance around the cornfields before returning her attention to him. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m in control now,” he explained. “That means only demons 100 percent willing can enter the cages, and those who try to force a fighter into the matches answer to me. I can also make sure that the opponents are evenly matched and that the battle is ended before irreparable damage can be done.” He took another turn onto a gravel road. “There’s also a strict policy against masos.”
“Masos?” she asked.
It was Levet who answered with a wrinkle of his snout. “A demon who gets off on pain, ma belle.”
She frowned. “Why do you care if they enjoy being hurt?”
He offered a wicked smile. “Pleasurable pain is an extra charge.”
She stiffened in distaste. “Charming.”
“To each his own,” he murmured.
“I suppose.”
Santiago slowed to a mere crawl, his senses on high alert. For most people this deserted path several miles south of Iowa City would have seemed like a road to nowhere, but he was well aware that there lurked a number of nasty surprises for those who dared to trespass.
The Summerset Club was one of Viper’s more exclusive establishments and was guarded with better surveillance than Area 51.
Of course, he’d been a part of Viper’s inner circle long enough that even the lowest ranking vampires would easily recognize him. He hoped that there wouldn’t be any trouble passing through the hidden checkpoints.
He turned twice more before they arrived at the manicured parkland that surrounded the sprawling colonial building.
Painted white with black shutters, the central double door was flanked by high, arched windows and a wide porch with fluted columns. The roof was low-pitched with a balustrade that connected the two long wings to the central house.
Pulling the truck to a halt at the side drive, he shut off the engine. One of the flunkies would move it later.
“This is it.”
They crawled out of the truck and headed toward the door. Or at least, Santiago and Nefri headed that way.
The ridiculous gargoyle hovered on the drive.
“Levet?” Nefri murmured.
“I should try to contact Yannah,” the gargoyle said, his tone indicating that he wasn’t overly eager to confront the female. “I will return at nightfall.”
“No need to hurry back on my account,” Santiago muttered.
Levet sniffed, pointing a claw toward Santiago. “You should take lessons in how to treat a hero.”
“I’ll show you how I—”
“Santiago.” Nefri grabbed his arm, her attention remaining on the three-foot pest. “We’ll see you at dusk.”
Levet gave a dip of his head. “Bon.” With a flap of his fairy wings, the creature was taking off, no doubt making the surrounding guards wonder if they were hallucinating.
Santiago gave a shake of his head. “Why do you encourage him?”
“He truly is a hero.”
Yeah. And wasn’t that a kick in the fangs?
“Don’t remind me.”
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” a smooth male voice with a distinct English accent drawled from the side door. “Did you slip Viper’s leash?”
Santiago jerked around to glare at the tall, slender vampire with light brown hair that was cut short on the sides and layered on top to lay with glossy perfection. His face was chiseled with an austere beauty that Santiago considered arrogant but the females seemed to find enthralling. His eyes were so dark a blue they looked black from a distance and usually shimmered with a wicked amusement that disguised his razor-sharp intelligence.
As always, he presented the image of the ultimate gentleman. Elegant, perfectly polished. And attired in a black Armani tuxedo that cost more than Santiago had spent in the past century on his clothes.
With a roll of his eyes, Santiago climbed the steps to stand face to face with the vampire he’d known since his days in the pits.
He wasn’t the only Gladiator who Styx had rescued.
“Gabriel. We need rooms.”
“Of course.” The vampire’s gaze shifted over Santiago’s shoulder, an expression of male appreciation settling on his face. “Is this your latest? Nice. Very nice.”
“Watch it,” Santiago snapped, plagued with a sudden desire to rip out those blue peepers. “This is clan chief Nefri.”
The hint of sexual invitation was abruptly replaced with a bone-deep reverence as the older vampire performed a smooth bow. “My lady, forgive me.”
“Please,” Nefri murmured softly, moving to stand at Santiago’s side, “call me Nefri.”
“You’ve honored my humble establishment.” Straightening, Gabriel waved a hand toward the open door. “Please follow me.”