Alex

I lean forward. This one is a shifter. Not a wolf or bear, but something close. Fox, maybe. That would match her red hair. I glance between her thighs. She’s mostly shaved but for a small groomed patch. Natural redhead. Definitely a fox.

How did I not notice her animal before? Probably because it’s shy, submissive. Plus all the cloying smells of vampires in the club. Prey animals don’t make themselves known like dominant ones. And this one is sweet as can be. My bear is fighting to burst forth and carry her off to a safe, dark place where he can protect her.

My instincts war a moment. But I have to remember why I’m here. I swallow and step back and act disinterested. A bouncer more concerned with the club’s reputation than protecting a willing sweetblood. “Simmon know you’re feasting on a shifter?”

“She belongs to me.”

“Shifters don’t belong to vampires.”

“Says the king’s guard bear.”

Technically the vampire king and I have a partnership, but I don’t correct the vampire.

With a wicked smile, Santiago snaps his fingers. A minute later, club servants have provided a seat and handed over Santiago’s submissive. He shifts her in his arms, almost tenderly arranging her limp body as I watch. My fists clench as Santiago’s fingers spear the auburn hair, tugging the woman’s head back to bare her neck. Without ceremony or gentleness, he strikes like a viper, burying his fangs in her neck. Her body convulses but the blissed out look on her face turns to ecstasy.

Fuck this. I pivot and head back to the throne in the center of the room.

“We can make them like it, you know,” Simmon says. He’s holding a goblet filled with a red liquid. A nice show, but it’s just wine.

A gasp makes me turn again. The redhead thrashes in her vampire master’s arms, ecstasy turning to anguish. Santiago shoots me a nasty look. He’s making it hurt on purpose. The redhead’s hands beat at his suit. Her blood stains her pale skin, his shirt collar. He’s making a mess.

Her cries sharpen, growing frantic.

“Leave her alone,” I growl.

“Santiago,” Simmon calls softly before I can stomp back over there. The younger vampire turns with a snarl, but lowers his eyes. “Enough,” orders the king, and Santiago bows his head and motions to a club employee to take her away.

“You can’t save them all from my sired’s sadism,” Simmon murmurs as I watch the redhead disappear behind a curtain of a private alcove. She’s safe now. For the next hour, she’ll be wrapped in a blanket, given orange juice and chocolate and whatever else she needs to come safely down. For a moment, I toy with the idea of shoving aside the curtain, kicking out the club employee, and caring for her myself. I reject the thought as soon as it surfaces. The redhead is cute, but she’s none of my business.

My bear bellows in protest.

When I turn back, the vampire king is watching me closely. I shake my head. “Not gonna save them. Like you said, they like it.”

The king regards me over steepled fingers. “This club caters to all sorts of desires. Some desire pleasure mixed with pain. We have a word for them. Sweetbloods.”

“Yeah, I know.” The vampires love masochists. The pain releases endorphins that make the blood taste sweeter, or some shit. I’m about to tell Simmon where he can shove his sadism, when a new scent hits my nose. Wolf.

“Simmon,” a female voice calls. A leather clad she-wolf strides forward, followed by a huge wolf with a pierced eyebrow. Sheridan and Trey. I give Trey my full attention. He and I don’t get along. I used to be a bouncer at his Fight Club but when he found out I also work here, things went sour. Fast.

As soon as Trey sees me, he shows his teeth. His woman puts a hand on his arm and mutters, “Behave.”

“Ah, my dear Sheridan,” Simmon purrs. “How nice of you to come with your wolf guard.”

“My mate,” she corrects. Her hand automatically goes to her shoulder, covering where he must have marked her. Shit, she and Trey are mated? I open my mouth to congratulate them. Trey glares at me. After what I did, he won't accept anything from me. I close my mouth.

“What brings you to our little club?” Simmon asks. “Business or pleasure?”

“Business,” Sheridan answers, though she casts a longing look about the club. I don’t get the attraction of this place, but it’s none of my business.

“Come then,” Simmon motions for more chairs to be brought close.

Waiters appear and offer drinks.

“We’re here because we’ve heard rumors. Shifters are disappearing from this area.”

“Wolves?”

“Not wolves. Other types of shifters. Ones that don’t have the protection of a pack.”

“What sort of shifters might those be? Forgive me, I am not as well versed in the animal kingdom as I should be,” Simmon says. He’s lying, of course. He makes it his business to know everything.

Sheridan swallows and glances at Trey, who nods at her. “A few loner cats who didn’t have a clan. Leopard, tiger. But also rarer shifters—owls, ravens, eagles.”

“Really? There are shifter birds?” Simmon bluffs really well. Not even I can smell anything but his interest.

Sheridan nods. “They keep quiet because they’re not as plentiful as wolves or big cats. That, and they’re prey animals.”

“And someone is kidnapping them? Didn’t that happen before, when a company was capturing shifters to experiment on?”

“That company is gone. We destroyed their facilities, rooted out the people who were doing it. But there’s still a black market for kidnapped shifters, and we think the shifter traders have found new customers. Vampires.”

Simmon’s long fingers steeple. He doesn’t move when Sheridan drops this

bombshell. Instead, he waits a moment as if making sure she’s finished talking, then stirs. “And what would vampires want with kidnapped shifters?”

“We don’t know. That’s why we’re here.” Before Sheridan can continue, her mate steps forward, tall, tattooed, and intimidating.

“It would be wise for you to look into it, unless you want the pack knocking on your door,” Trey says. Sheridan grabs his arm again.

“What my mate means,” she says with a fixed smile, “is that given the Tucson pack’s alliance with you and your vampires, it would be wise to join forces to look into the shifter disappearances. For the sake of keeping the peace.” “Indeed.” Simmon flicks a glance at Trey, then turns back to Sheridan.

“You do have a flair for diplomacy, my dear,” Simmon tells her. “Thank you,” she answers levelly. “But I’m not your dear.”

Simmon ignores her growl. “We will look into it.” He glances at me. I nod back. By we the king means me. And I’m okay with hunting down vampires who have bought kidnapped shifters. I know just where I’ll start—Santiago and his little redheaded sub.

“That’s settled,” Simmon announces. “Now that your business is concluded you are welcome to make use of my club. Will you stay and scene tonight?”

Sheridan hesitates, her gaze darting around the dimly lit club with poorly hidden interest.

“Yes.” Trey steps between her and the vampire king. “As long as everyone remains on their best behavior.”

“I’m sure my vampires will,” Simmon offers with a glint of fang.

“And your pet shifters?” Trey looks at me.

“I have no pets shifters. Only friends and…playmates,” Simmon says.

“Which one is he?” Trey asks, still staring at me.

“A business partner,” I offer.

“I’m sure Alex will also respect the rules of the club, and all its members.” Simmon raises an eyebrow at me.

I hold my hands up. “I got no problems with these wolves.” Last I checked, I didn’t have a problem with the wolves. It’s not my fault the wolves have a problem with me.

“Good,” Simmon claps his hands and Sheridan jumps. Trey puts his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. He leans in and whispers something in her ear. She flushes. Trey turns her and gives her a gentle push towards a free table. He watches her strut away. I have to admit, if I had a mate as fine as Sheridan, I’d watch her coming and going as long as possible, too.

Trey turns back to me and Simmon. His eyes narrow on me.

“Hey, Alex,” his voice drips bitterness. “You still on to fight Friday?”

“Last I checked, I was still on the schedule.” I quit working at the Fight Club as a bouncer a few weeks ago, but fighting is good for my bear.

“Good.” Trey shows his teeth in a macabre grin. “We have a special guest ready to fight you. Be ready.”

I watch him stride away. He’s a big, bad wolf, but not as dangerous as I am.

Not alone, anyway. Wolves are never alone. That’s always their advantage.

Strength of the pack.

“If that’s all, I’ll head out,” I say to Simmon.

He nods. “You’re off bouncer duty the rest of the night. Ask Peter to call in a replacement. In the meantime, I’ll make the rounds.”

“Right.” Time to go on the hunt.

I head to the rope where Santiago tied up his shifter sub, where the white robe she wore lies crumpled on the floor. I pick it up and give it a good sniff. The scent is spicy, with a touch of floral. Fox. Definitely. If I can’t track the vampire by his scent, I can at least find the fox.

A few discreet questions later, and I learn the redhead left with Santiago. Her master they called him. Not sure if that means he owns her, or if it’s just a game they play, but I plan to find out. I can get his address from the records Simmon keeps—I’m one of the few people he gives access to. He knows I’ll never betray him. I need him too much.

Halfway up the stairs to the main floor, I pause and survey the vast club. Trey and Sheridan have already claimed a table under one of the spotlights. Trey has opened a black duffel bag and is laying out implements. Sheridan stands beside him, her bare skin glowing in a fancy leather harness, swaying a little with excitement.

Trey finishes and turns towards her. He snaps his fingers and she falls to her knees, gazing up at her mate. I don’t need to see her face to know that her eyes are shining. Trey’s face softens as he looks down at her. Another couple stealing a moment before they engage in the complicated mating dance of submission and dominance. I’ve seen it a million times before, but somehow it’s not as grotesque on shifters. That still doesn’t mean I get it.

I climb the rest of the stairs and hit the door with my fist to escape.