Death's Servant(28)

Dria kneels by my side, a deadly smile on her face, and whispers in my ear. “There’s always someone more powerful who can knock you off your perch—even if you’re me. Never forget it and you don’t have to worry about corruption. You’ll be too afraid watching your own back.”
Turning her private tete ala tete with me into a show of something else, she says in a louder voice, “Which one do you think I should pick, my dear? They all look a little… tired.”
Before I decide what she expects me to do at her question, she stands, dismissing me as if we never spoke.
Tara senses the difference in Dria’s appraising stare around the room and says, “We have one or two that might appeal to you better. You could talk to Cecil and arrange something.”
A huge smile spreads across the redhead’s features. “Meet Cecil? Why thank you, Tara. What a wonderful idea.”
Tension slips from the blond Were, pleased she did something right in the growing tension. She leads us out of the room toward the back of the building. The disturbing sounds of a nearby feeding vampire and forced pleasure from a donor chase us down the hall, tightening my gut and fueling me with the urge to rip and maim.
Dria’s hand fists in my fur again, and then softens, smoothing the raised hackles I can’t control in my distress. Tara meanders down a long hall and stops in front of a shut door. She raps once and waits.
“Yes?” a male voice calls from within.
“I’ve got a new visitor who would like to speak with you about selecting donors not in the lounge tonight.”
“Come in.”
Tara opens the door and steps back, her body language projecting she’s eager to avoid being in the room with either party, if she can.
Dria steps through the doorway with her head held high, her mane of lush copper waves spilling down her back. A large desk occupies one end of the room, with a small sitting area in front of it. The vampire who chased me into the night a week ago stands behind the desk, a fake smile plastered on his face. He steps around the desk and motions with one arm for us to sit in one of the chairs.
“Welcome. Please, take a seat.”
My shoulder brushes up against her thigh as Dria walks to a high-backed chair and sits.
“My name is Cecil and I’m the owner of the V V Inn.” He settles across from Dria, crossing his legs. “Tara mentioned our current selection tonight didn’t spark your interest.” He glances at me with a flick of dismissal. “Surely, if your servant isn’t enough to satisfy your need, you’d be content with whomever was willing, no?”#p#分页标题#e#
A coldness enters Dria tone. “That would assume your donors were willing, wouldn’t it?”
Cecil sits straighter in his seat. “I resent your implication. Our donors are willing. Ask them.”
Her calculating gaze narrows on the larger man, not a trace of fear or doubt evident in her. “We all know how easily agreement can be coerced, don’t we?” Dria scoots to the edge of her seat and extends her hand to the flustered vampire. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Alexandria McAndrews.”
Her hand hangs in the air as Cecil’s mouth gapes and his pale skin whitens. “No… You can’t be…” He shuts his mouth and shrinks into his chair. “What are you doing here?”
A vicious look of satisfaction crosses Dria’s face before she speaks. “Ah, I see you recognize the name, do you not?”
“Are you the one they called ‘Alexandria the Great’?”
Dria rises from her chair to stand over Cecil. “That depends on who you ask. By ‘they’, I take it you mean the Tribunal?” Cecil nods, his eyes tracking Dria’s every minuscule movement. She looks around his office, then brings her eyes back to his flinching features. “Interesting set up you’ve got here. I wonder what they would think of it.” She begins to pace in her agitation, back and forth in front of the tense vampire.
“I’m not breaking any laws,” Cecil says, forced bravado coloring his tone. I can smell the stink of fear coming off him in waves. This is getting interesting.  Why would her name and reputation scare him so much?
Dria whips around and points an accusing finger his way. “You are doing something far worse. You have imprisoned these wolves and manipulated their minds to do your bidding. You pimp them out in an old-style blood brothel and think no one will notice?” Her hand drops to her side as her chest heaves in anger. “You think hiding behind a technicality that the laws weren’t written to include werewolves would save you?”
“Blood brothel? This is no such thing. The V V Inn has been around for over a century, perhaps you never heard of it? We’re operating like we always have.”