Ripper(98)

I stood up. “Well, I’m certainly complex. I’m also not particularly good at following orders. Please take me to Mr. Sharpe. I want to get this interview out of the way.”

“Are you sure? Marcus is likely to be mad.”

“I can handle him.” I knew something she didn’t. Marcus didn’t care about me the way she thought he did. He would probably be thrilled we could leave and he could get along with his evening. Now that it was clear I was happy with Gray, I was certain the vampire would lose any interest he had in me, if it had been there in the first place.

Perfect red lips tugged up in a smile, and Stacy Sears elegantly rose from her chair. “Then I suppose I can handle the fallout, as well. I like you, Kelsey. You aren’t at all what I thought you would be. Can I give you a small piece of advice about the Councilman?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“What I said to the girls goes for mistresses, too. He won’t ever marry you. A vampire always wants a companion. They’ll play around with humans, take good care of you and make you think they love you, but in the end, when a companion comes along, they’ll leave you.”

I felt for her. There was no way that bitterness hadn’t come from experience. I could put her mind at ease about one thing. “Then it’s a damn good thing I don’t love him.”

Stacy reached out and took my hand. “Make sure you keep it that way. Keep hold of my hand. The club is trapped. There are all sorts of strange magic in this place. If you’re not with a vampire, you need someone who lives here to guide you through or you’ll find yourself trapped. Once some dumbass vamp brought a human in and left her alone and it took us two days to find her.”

She led me down an elegant hallway. I could hear the sound of music playing. It was getting louder and I decided the lounge area must be hopping.

A vampire smiled as he strode out of the lounge ahead of us. He stopped in his tracks.

“Stacy, is this a new girl?” he asked as he looked me over assessingly. “Because if she is then I’ll take her. She’s so different. She’s….”

“Marcus’s new mistress,” Stacy finished for him.

“Damn,” he cursed. “Don’t guess you have a sister?”

Stacy ignored him as she pulled me along. “Get used to that. When it happens, tell them who you are and they should back off. Use Marcus’s name like a blunt instrument. Trust me. No one here wants to cross him.”

The lounge was lit with low lights, giving the place a private, intimate feel. My eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness and I could see couples swaying on the dance floor to the strong, seductive beat of the music. I recognized one of the girls, a wolf, from the school Liv taught at. She had been in the graduating class the first year Liv had joined the high school group. Though I’d promised not to judge anyone, I wanted to walk over, snatch her out of that vampire’s arms, and escort her straight home. I understood the need and it didn’t bother me on an intellectual level but seeing someone I knew…

“There he is.” Stacy stopped and pointed to the man sitting in an elegant armchair watching the dancers with a blank expression on his face.

He seemed to be waiting, sitting utterly motionless, as though he could trick someone into thinking he was harmless, but I saw through him. He was a predator and a savage one at that. He was the first man I’d seen walk into the club the night I staked it out. I remembered that night well. It was the first time I’d laid eyes on Marcus and I’d thought he reminded me of a hawk. This man was something different. He was a spider, moving slowly, all his limbs a testament to delicate, graceful death. He would weave a gossamer web and then catch his prey and gleefully devour it. He would take his time, enjoying each bite. I swallowed as I watched Alexander Sharpe because I had no trouble seeing him as a serial killer.

“Mr. Sharpe,” Stacy greeted the vampire.

He didn’t get out of his chair, merely inclined his head and his dark eyes took us in. “Miss Sears. I take it this is Miss Atwood.” His accent was perfectly British. Upper crust, without a hint of cockney to tarnish it.

“I am. I have a few questions for you concerning a series of murders.”

His lips quirked up. “Doesn’t everyone, dear?” He held his hand out. It was long and graceful, like the hand of a surgeon. “Please join me. I’ve been properly threatened into answering your questions.”

I sank into the seat opposite him. The chairs were close. Our knees almost touched and I wished it wouldn’t be so terribly rude to shove the chair back because I didn’t want to accidentally have any contact with this man. I merely slid my knees to the side in a lady-like fashion.