The young vampire voiced his displeasure. “But the human has a sword.”
The man’s gaze beat into the young vampire, and the vamp shrank from it. The man spoke. “Listen well. Whenever Lady Fallon appears, you are to immediately bring her to our Master. Do you understand?”
The vampire bowed and scurried away, escaping the anger emanating from the suited man. The man’s almost-black eyes focused on Fallon, deliberate in his exclusion of Laire and Wulver. “My apologies, Lady Fallon. If you and your guests will come this way.”
Wulver looked at her with a told you expression. Letting loose her sigh only in her own mind, Fallon took the lead and followed the man.
Laire spoke low at her side. “Who is that?”
“Zemar. He’s Reign’s personal bodyguard.”
“But he’s human?”
“I have no idea what he is.”
Zemar led them to the back of the club, where a well-hidden door awaited them and opened to a hellish wonderland. The outer club Outside was decadent, but in here, in this room, it was the first level of Dante’s Hell. Everywhere was flesh and pain and degradation and underneath it all, the copper tang of blood, oppressive and inescapable.
Wulver’s energy flared and Fallon turned back to see his eyes brighten and turn translucent in the dim light. She put her hand on his arm, his skin shuddering under her palm.
It was unfair that Kyo sent Wulver instead of coming himself. None of them liked being here, but a place like this was special torture for Wulver. But he was here, and none of them could be weak in front of an enemy. Fallon’s fingertips bit harder into Wulver’s forearm in wordless demand, and he blinked, his eyes back to their normal yellow the next time they met hers.
They followed Zemar, passing scenes of damaged carnality on all sides. One woman was flat on a table, her legs spread wide as a man pounded into her with inhuman strength. Two vampires hovered over her chest, biting her breasts as she screamed out her pleasure. Another corner held a woman being whipped. With each stroke, vampires would come to lick the trickling blood off her back.
The back of the room had a wide set of stairs that led to the second floor, an open space that overlooked the cavernous club area. Here the gothic scheme morphed into chrome-and-glass and clean minimal lines.
A large, luxurious white couch spanned one end of the back wall to the other. A dozen beings sat on the couch – all but one a woman, all of them otherworldly beautiful, all laughing as though they weren’t part of a nightmare. Blood and alcohol lined the table in front of them, as well as other stimulants that guaranteed they wouldn’t have to live with their conscience for yet another night.
In the middle was the lone male. Physically, he appeared to be a human man in his mid-twenties. Impeccable grooming and stylish dark good looks, and an old-world manner evident even though he was doing nothing save sitting on the couch. Ungodly beautiful, with a square jaw and thick brows over deep-set blood-red eyes, nicely formed mouth and a straight Roman nose.
He had a woman on each side, both of them stroking and nuzzling him. He paid them no mind.
His eyes sought and stayed fast on Fallon, roaming the contours of her face, her body, the marking so intense it was almost physical. “Fallon.”
Fallon swallowed, caught in that gaze. Inside her was a shifting, a growl, a warning to leave that she ignored. She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Reign.”
Reign murmured, “It’s been a long time.”
Wulver stepped in front of her, protecting her and partially blocking her from Reign’s gaze. “Vampire Reign, thank you for seeing us.”
“Wulver.” Not bothering with any courtesy, Reign turned his attention toward the male of the group. Reign’s voice was deep, cultured, giving even ugly words an elegance they did not otherwise deserve. “Make no mistake, I granted this meeting as it was a personal request from Fallon.”
“We appreciate it no matter the circumstances. We can only hold the peace as long as all stay within the boundaries that were agreed on after the Great Collision. This protects both your interests and ours.”
“Not that you have any boundaries, huh?” Laire piped in, gesturing to the many scenes behind her.
Reign’s attention turned to Laire for the first time of the evening. “Everything done here is consensual, as was agreed upon in those long-ago talks and sealed by each leader of the Seven Houses, including Kyo. Blood is life, and we agreed not to seek it out from unwilling sources as long as willing sources were not stopped from seeking us.”
Laire looked like she wanted to say something else, but Wulver raised his hand in signal to stop. Wulver’s voice rang out, no diplomacy left in his tone. “There was a zombie attack in the protected zone two nights ago. Do you know anything about that?”