—From Treatise on Ascension, Philippe Reynard

Chapter 6

At eight o’clock Alison stared up at the sign hanging from a scrolled wrought-iron standard. The words THE BLOOD AND BITE gleamed in a beautiful red script against a black background just like the card she’d found at her feet earlier.

Beneath the words, like the card, a red rose lay prone.

Why was she here? She pressed a hand to her stomach then took a deep ragged achy breath. She could lie to herself and say she’d come solely to figure out why she had found a business card, bearing the club’s logo, lying at her feet. But the truth went deeper—so deep she trembled.

Oh, God. Was her future inside this club?

Looking up at the sign, however, she shuddered. The name of the club, the Blood and Bite, harked back to vampire lore. What kind of person would name a club something so obvious and so absurd? She could only imagine that those who frequented the establishment sported artificially sharpened incisors, tattoos, a whole lot of piercings.

Though the quite beautiful sign alone offered sufficient warning to make her skitter back into her log, right now she had to at least have a look inside.

Taking another cavernous breath, she put her feet in motion.

When she entered the club, the darkness of the environment as well as the flashing strobes shut her vision down for a few long seconds. As she waited near the entrance, her heart pounding, her fingers touched something soft.

Glancing to her right then squinting, she discovered she was looking at a long length of scarlet velvet. Her fingers glided down the soft fabric. How strange.

As her vision adjusted and she glanced once more around the club, she caught sight of a lot more red velvet covering a host of booths to her right. The choice struck her as bizarre, out of place, yet very sensual, which all added up to purpose. A woman might let down her guard in a place lined with such a sensual fabric. She had an odd impression she’d walked into a velvet trap.

The music pumped through the building. Gwen Stefani’s “The Sweet Escape.”

Her heart rate kicked up another notch.

The club was jammed, a real hot spot. She shifted her gaze in the direction of the dance floor. She could only see the bouncing heads and arms of a whole lot of people. She could barely make out a bar off to the left. To the right were rows of the velvet-clad booths, which, given their tall backs, provided a great deal of privacy. Did she just hear a moan?

Two quite handsome men, at least as tall as she was, even in her heels, moved toward her. They appeared to be dressed in expensive clothes that shouted Armani. Another surprise.

What kind of place was this?

Both men were loaded with confidence. She really hadn’t expected GQ and swagger in a place called the Blood and Bite. Once again she was struck with the sense of everything being not-quite-right.

Their voices jabbed at her in quick alternating blows.

“Are you new here?”

“You’ll like the club.”

“It’s a little loud.”

“But you’ll get used to it.”

Again warning bells sounded because something didn’t feel right about the exchange. Underneath their spoken words, she felt a very specific and heavy mental pressure. When she released her shields, different words, their words, flooded her mind.

You’re so beautiful—and what a body …

You’ve come to the right place.

We’re going to take good care of you.

Yeah, the best kind of care.

She was stunned. They were communicating telepathically. Worse, they were seducing telepathically. Had she been without all her special abilities, she wouldn’t have been able to hear their enthralling words.

Despite the fact that she disapproved of what these men were doing, she couldn’t believe she had actually found two other human beings who could do what she could. Yet somehow the exchange seemed familiar, as though she had recently conversed with another man in just this way—telepathically.

Images started flying through her mind, of a huge gorgeous warrior, a vampire, with white wings, and another vampire with pale translucent skin and black wings. They had been fighting, with swords, in the air.

She gasped at the memory. But the headache that followed these thoughts took her into the stratosphere and she winced until she couldn’t remember what had brought it on. As suddenly as it had come, the pain just floated away.

The Armani duo each took hold of one of her elbows and the nightmare officially started as the one on the left pressed hard with his mind, You’ll enjoy every moment with us. You’ll give your neck freely, your blood, your body. You’ll experience pleasure like you’ve never known before.

The companion added, Open for us, lovely flower.

Her muscles tensed. They wanted to drink her blood? Okay, this was getting way too weird.

She considered dematerializing back to her home. However, given the telepathic abilities of both men, she suspected she’d walked into a den of vipers and needed to pick her way very carefully out of the situation.

She closed her mind as she allowed them to usher her down a crowded row of booths, maneuvering her through a maze of clubbers. She glanced around, looking for an avenue of escape.

Oh, Lord, she shouldn’t have done that. She wished she hadn’t seen the erotic events taking place in some of the velvet-encased booths.

Wait a minute. Some kind of disguise overlaid the couples, like cobwebs, something an average human probably couldn’t detect or even see through, some sort of shield.

Oh, great. Rack up one more supernatural power for Alison Wells—the ability to see through unusual shields. Yet what sort of people could create something so intricate? Once more her heart went into overdrive. Whatever was going on here mirrored her own abilities.

She looked away, ignoring the squeals and moans, the writhing limbs.

Instead she turned her attention to the dance floor, which she could see just above the backs of the booths, but oh-my-God the action out there equaled anything she’d already seen. She drew in a sharp breath. Several fanged men sucked on the necks of the women they danced with. The other half were working up to the same thing and the women … were loving it.

The purpose of the club as well as the nature of those who frequented the establishment became clear.

Her heart pounded all over again and she felt dizzy. One of her admirers flashed a smile and showed off—of course—his fangs.

Vampires?

Vampires.

A deep cold sensation invaded her stomach. She could hardly breathe. Vampires … who made use of telepathy to seduce their victims. Creatures, looking very human, who had fangs and drank blood.

How was this possible?

Since she could read minds, and take herself from one place to another with a mere thought, she supposed she could allow other unusual creatures to exist as well. Why not vampires? Earth had a lot of room, certainly enough for all kinds of freaks—for instance, those who read minds and teleported and served as psychotherapists—why not those who attended hot nightspots and dressed in Armani and drank blood from veins?

When the man, the vampire, on her right once more started in with his mind pressure, she’d had enough.

Reaching the end of the row of booths, she turned to face her way-too-confident squires. She lifted her hands to each and without either knowing, she kept them from assaulting her with steady, quiet blasts from the palms of her hands. Then she went to work on each of their minds.

Turnabout … fair play!

She sent subtle messages about respecting women more and about avoiding this absurd club in the future. She gave each a longing to date intelligent women who would make good wives, then she littered their heads with all the delights of fatherhood. That should keep these two vampires busy for the next several decades.

She only had one problem remaining: how to get the hell out of the club without anyone noticing … or possibly following.

* * *

Kerrick tossed back his third Maker’s and set the empty glass on the bar in front of him. He sniffed the air. He could still smell the lavender scent. Wait a minute. The scent was stronger.

He flared his nostrils and drew in a deep breath.

Yep … stronger.

He rose upright and took a step away from the bar. He breathed in again. His heart set up a sudden furious hammer-like beat inside his chest. His eyesight dimmed while his olfactory system flared into high gear.

The heady lush scent assaulted his nose again, sped into his brain, and this time triggered a host of reactions, each of which splintered one after the other and shot a cascade of fireworks through his central nervous system.

He smelled her. Alison. Alison.

Goddammit. She was in the club right now.

Urgency crowded him.

In a brilliant flash he transformed into a heat-seeking missile. He glanced at the entrance but saw only an array of Militia Warriors ready to pounce on new arrivals. Somehow Alison had come into the club and had already gotten lost in the play.

Holy shit.

He had to find her now.

He penetrated the various mists cloaking the Militia Warriors on the dance floor. She didn’t seem to be there. However, the club was deep and there were many hidden alcoves and way too many booths.

His mind touched female after female. He picked up each woman’s scent and cast it aside again and again, his search specific, his hunger rising, his fangs lengthening. Where was she?

Thorne’s commanding voice thumped the bar. “Leaving in four.”

When Kerrick turned around to face him, Thorne shifted to look up and met his gaze. Kerrick pulled his lips back over distended fangs and growled deep in his throat. His consciousness shuffled off to a distant part of his brain and watched this unheard-of behavior in astonishment.

“What the fuck?” Thorne muttered, leaning back. He grinned. “No fucking way. Medichi, Zach, you tracking this?”

Kerrick turned away.

He had to find the woman.

He stepped past the bar. He smelled the trail coming from the direction of the booths straight across from him.

His blood boiled. His shoulders hunched. His muscles flexed and twitched, ready to engage in battle over what he knew in the depths of his being belonged only to him. His wing-locks itched, ready to release full-mount, to catch her if he needed to.