Midnight Rising (Midnight Breed #4)
Page 12Dylan's heart slammed in her chest but she didn't move away. She couldn't - not when he was holding her in that smoldering, almost hypnotic, topaz gaze.
Was she breathing? God help her, she wasn't sure. She waited to feel his touch light on her skin, astonished to realize just how badly she wanted it. But on a slow growl, he let his hand fall back down to his side.
He bent his head close to her ear. His deep voice was a whisper of heat across her throat. "Eat your meal, Dylan. It would be a shame to waste good food when you know you need the nourishment."
Well, that went down about as smoothly as a glass of razor blades.
Rio locked her door, then stormed into his adjacent guest room, hands clenched at his sides. There had been a time when he would have carried out a task like this with charm and diplomacy. Hard to imagine himself in that role now. He'd been blunt and ineffective, and he couldn't blame all of that on his lingering head trauma or the hunger that was gnawing at him like wolves on carrion.
He didn't know how to handle Dylan Alexander.
He didn't know what to make of her, or what to make of his own unwilling reaction to her.
Since Eva, there hadn't been another woman to pique his interest beyond the most basic physical need. Once he'd been strong enough to leave the compound - long weeks into his recovery - Rio had satisfied his carnal itch the same way he slaked his hunger for blood. With cold, impersonal efficiency. It seemed so strange to him, a male who had unrepentantly enjoyed life's many pleasures as a vital part of living itself.
But he hadn't always been that way. It had taken him many years to rise above the dark origins of his birth and do something meaningful, to make something good of his life. He thought he had. Hell, he'd really thought he'd had it all. It vanished in an instant - one blinding, white-hot instant a summer ago, when Eva sold the Order out to their enemy.
Rio had long thought his Breedmate's betrayal had ruined him for anyone else, and a part of him had been glad to be rid of emotional entanglements and the complications that came with them.
But now there was Dylan.
And she was in that next room thinking he was a lunatic. Not that far off the mark, he admitted grimly. What would she think once she realized that what he'd told her just now was the truth?
It didn't matter.
Before long, she would know everything. A decision would be placed before her, and she would have to choose her path: a life in the sheltering arms of the Darkhavens, or a return to her old life, back among humankind.
He didn't plan on sticking around to find out which door she picked. He had his own path to walk, and this was merely a frustrating detour.
A rap on the closed door of his guest suite snapped Rio out of his grim thoughts.
"Yeah," he barked, still glaring with self-directed anger as the panel swung wide and Reichen entered.
"Everything go all right?" the Darkhaven male asked.
"What's up?"
"I'm going into the city tonight and I thought you might like to join me." He glanced meaningfully at Rio's dermaglyphs, which were flushed with deep color. "The place is decadent, but very discreet. As are the women who work there. Give any of Helene's angels an hour of your time, and I guarantee you they'll make you forget all your troubles."
Rio grunted. "Where do I sign up?"
Chapter Eleven
The Berlin brothel that Reichen brought him to that evening was everything Rio had been told to expect - and then some. Prostitution had been legalized here a few years ago, and as far as beautiful, ready, willing, and able women went, the sex club Aphrodite was clearly home to the cream of the crop.
Three of the club's finest examples, wearing nothing but minuscule G-strings, danced together in a slow grind in front of the private table where Rio and his Darkhaven host were seated with the club's stunning female owner, Helene. With her long dark hair, flawless face, and sinuous curves, Helene herself would fit right in with the flock of gorgeous young females in her employ. But beneath her blatant sex appeal, it was obvious that the woman had a shrewd business mind and enjoyed being the one calling the shots.
Reichen certainly seemed content to let Helene have her head with him. Situated beside her on the crescent-shaped velvet seat across from the one Rio occupied by himself, Reichen lounged against the tufted squabs with one foot propped on the squat round cocktail table in front of him, his thighs spread wide in order to give Helene's roaming hands free access to whatever they might find intriguing.
At the moment, she seemed focused on teasing him, sliding her scarlet-polished nails up and down the inner seam of his tailored pants while she conducted a hushed, don't-bullshit-me conversation in German on her cell phone.
Reichen met Rio's gaze from across the short distance and nodded in the direction of the three females gyrating and stroking one another just an arm's length away.
"Help yourself, my friend - to one or all of them. Your choice. They're here for your personal amusement, compliments of Helene when I told her I'd be bringing you by tonight."
Helene sent a catlike smile at Rio as she continued to conduct her club business like the tigress she no doubt was. As she spoke curt instructions into her cell, Reichen smoothed her dark hair off her shoulder and traced his fingertips tenderly along the side of her neck.
They were an odd pairing, even as frequent but casual lovers, which Reichen insisted them to be.
Breed males seldom took a prolonged interest in mortal human women, even in a mainly sexual way. The risk of exposing the Breed's existence to humankind was generally seen as too great for a vampire to dare any kind of relationship for the long term. And there was always the danger that a human might fall into Rogue hands, or worse, be turned Minion by one of the more powerful, but corrupt, members of the Breed.
Helene was not a Breedmate, but she was a trusted ally of Reichen's. She knew what he was - what Rio and the rest of the Breed were too - and she held that secret as closely as she would one of her own. She'd proven trustworthy and loyal to Reichen, something Rio hadn't even been able to claim about the Breedmate female he'd bonded to all those years ago.
He tore his gaze away from the couple and stared out at the club's surroundings. Walls of smoked glass enclosed the low-lighted private room they were in, affording a 360-degree view of the action taking place on Aphrodite's main floor just outside. Sex acts in every variation, and in every combination of partners, filled Rio's line of vision. Closer still, were the three lovely females evidently on tap for his personal service.
"Beautiful, aren't they? Touch them if it pleases you."
Reichen curled his finger at them and the three prostitutes made a deliberately seductive approach to Rio's side of the table. Bare breasts bobbed with artificial firmness as the girls ran their hands over themselves and one another, a show they'd probably performed a thousand times before. One of them sauntered closer and placed herself between his knees, her tan hips moving in time with the drone of bass and smoky vocals coming through the sound system in the background. Her two friends flanked her, caressing her body as she performed her little private dancer routine, the scrap of satin covering her sex hovering mere inches from Rio's mouth.
He felt oddly detached from the whole event, willing to let it happen, yet uninterested in anything being offered to him at the moment. He'd be using them as much as they intended to use him.
"They will provide everything you wish," Reichen said.
When Rio glanced up at him in question, the other Breed male read his look without hesitation or error. His gaze slid to Rio's livid glyphs, subtly acknowledging his rising state of blood hunger. "The glass in this room is one-way, completely private. Whatever your appetite demands, no one will know anything that occurs in here. Stay as long as you like. My driver will take you back to the mansion whenever you're ready." He smiled, flashing only the very tips of his emerging fangs. "I'll be late."
Rio watched the pair stroll over to the elevator situated in the center of the private space. They were already caught in a fiercely passionate kiss as the doors closed and the car began its ascent to Helene's apartment and offices on the top floor of the building.
A pair of hands began unbuttoning Rio's black shirt.
"Do you like my dance?" asked the female grinding between his legs.
He didn't answer. They weren't really interested in making conversation, but then, neither was he. Rio looked up into the trio of beautiful, painted faces. They smiled, and pouted, and arranged their glossy mouths in sensual poses meant to titillate...but not one pair of eyes would meet his for more than the most fleeting instant.
Of course, he thought, smirking at their polite avoidance. None of them wanted to look too closely at his scars.
They kept pawing at him, rubbing against him like they couldn't wait to get busy with him...just like they were trained so well to do. They stroked him, cooing over how well-built he was, how strong and sexy they found him.
Carefully averting their gazes from his so they could continue pretending that what they saw didn't repulse them.
He hadn't been happy when Dylan confronted him about his scars. He wasn't used to that kind of head-on honesty, or the true compassion he'd heard in her voice when she'd gently asked him how he'd been injured. Rio had been caught off guard, self-conscious under Dylan's sincere interest, and it had made him want to crawl into the floor to get away from it.
But at least she hadn't hit him with this kind of infuriating falsehood. These women, so professionally trained to charm and seduce, couldn't mask their aversion.
They writhed and undulated in front of him, and as the minutes passed, the room began to swirl along with them. The club's garish colors blended into a dizzying smear of red and gold and electric blue. The music swelled louder, crashing against Rio's skull like a hammer dropping on fragile glass. He choked on the cloying odors of perfume, liquor, and sex.
The floor beneath him was spinning now. His temples were being crushed, madness rising like a black wave that would pull him under if he didn't get a grip.
He closed his eyes to block out some of the sensory bombardment. The darkness lasted only a moment before an image began to form out of the ether of his cracked mind....
Amid the storm of pain and fear suddenly churning around him, he saw a face.
Dylan's face.
Her creamy, peach-freckled skin seemed close enough for him to touch. Her golden-green eyes were half-closed, but fixed on him, beautiful and unafraid. As he gazed at her behind his dropped eyelids, she smiled and slowly bent her head to the side. Her fiery, silken hair slid loosely over her shoulder, as gently as a caress.
And then Rio saw the scarlet kiss of twin punctures below her ear.
That was how he knew for certain this was merely illusion - because he would never know the taste of her.
Dylan Alexander was a Breedmate, and that meant drinking from her was out of the question. One sip of her blood would create a bond breakable only by death. Rio had been down that road before, and it had nearly killed him.
Never again.
Rio snarled as his lap dancer decided it was a good time to get cozier. When he snapped his eyes open, she murmured something dirty, then planted her hands on his thighs and spread them wide. Licking her lips, she sank down onto her knees before him. When she went for the zipper of his trousers, it wasn't lust that turned his veins molten, but a spike of hot fury instead.
His head pounded, mouth felt as dry as sand.
Shit. He was going to lose it if he stayed any longer.
He had to get the fuck out of there.
"Get up," he growled. "Get off me, all of you."
They scrambled back like they'd just provoked a wild animal. One of them tried to be brave. "You want something different, baby? It's okay. Tell us what you like."
"Nothing you've got," he said tightly, giving them a long, hard dose of the ruined left side of his face as he shot to his feet.
None too steady, he staggered out of the private room, out of the throbbing, musk-heavy club. He found the quiet back entrance where he and Reichen had come in, shoved past the bouncers who wisely moved out of his way when they saw him coming.
The street outside was dark. The summer night air was cool on his heated skin; he drank it in through his mouth, breathing deeply in an effort to calm his roiling head. Cursed when it didn't do anything to soothe him.
His vision was sharper out here in the darkness, but it was more than just his basic nocturnal acuity giving everything a crisp edge. His pupils were narrowed from his anger and need, the amber glow of his transformed irises throwing faint light on the concrete under his feet. His steps were uneven, the limp he'd almost overcome now creeping into his gait.
His fangs filled his mouth. One look at the glyphs on his forearms and he knew he was in bad shape.
Damn it. He should have taken the vein of one of the females back there. He needed to feed hours ago, and now his shit was getting critical.
Head down, fists shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, Rio started walking at a fast, none-too-graceful clip. He thought about heading for one of the city's parks, where the homeless and itinerant made easy prey for creatures of the night like him. But as he cut up a side street off the main drag, he saw a young punky woman puffing on a cigarette at the head of the alleyway. She was leaning back against the side of a brick building, picking at her fingernails as she blew out a cloud of noxious smoke.