Kiss of the Vampire(42)
Chapter Seven
After they dropped Dante off at his truck, Nix and Tobias went on to find Finn. The demon wasn’t at home nor was he at the next half-dozen places they tried, mostly dives and strip clubs. As they walked up to yet another nudie bar with cigarette butts littering the sidewalk in front of the door, Nix took a deep breath. She was getting tired and was way past frustrated. Her gut had started to burn after the fourth stop but she’d managed to keep all evidence of the demon at bay. They needed to find Finn sooner rather than later, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to last without intervention of some sort.
Tobias was losing patience, too, if the ramp-up in pheromones was anything to go by. She was learning to cope with them, though she suspected they were beginning to affect her mood. Legwork was a part of the job and she usually had no trouble with it. Certainly she hadn’t felt this edgy in a long time. She pulled open the door and entered the dingy club, pausing while her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. A variety of scents wafted her way—werewolves, vamps, a pixie or two and humans, stale beer, and even staler cigarette smoke.
Tobias stood just behind her, a comforting and safe presence at her back. She was completely capable of taking care of herself, but there was something about a tall, dark, and dangerous vamp standing at your elbow that put most people on their best behavior.
Nix took in the entertainment in the center of the room where a large raised stage with a central stripper pole was the main attraction. Tiny white lights clung to the top of the square canopy and four wooden pillars provided support at each corner. It reminded Nix of a large four-poster bed. The exotic dancer swayed and gyrated in thigh-high red latex boots, a skimpy black bra and matching thong, and nothing else. Knowing that pole dancing wasn’t easy and feeling like the woman deserved some appreciation above the sexual kind she got from her customers, Nix took a moment to admire the woman’s technique, then she moved farther inside the building, eyes scanning for their target.
A werewolf nursing a drink at the bar reached over and pinched her ass as she walked by. “Hey, baby,” he growled.
Nix stopped and looked at him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who wants drunken dogs putting their paws on her?”
He just grinned.
She shook her head and started to move on. Before she got two steps away, he reached out a long arm and hauled her backward between his spread legs. The hard ridge behind the fly of his jeans prodded her backside. The arm around her middle shifted and his large palm settled over her left breast. Enraged, she spun and grabbed his arm, wrenching it up between his shoulder blades as she bent him forward onto the bar. “You need to keep your hands and your johnson to yourself.” She ground her teeth against the fire churning in her belly. Her eyes burned as well and she knew her demon was showing.
“Aw, come on, sweetheart. There ain’t nothin’ in the world like werewolf meat. You know you want it.” He grunted when she twisted his arm higher. “I thought demons like you were always…hungry.”
She ignored that. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired. And you’re right. I am hungry. But not for you.” She put her full weight onto him. “Keep. Your hands. To. Yourself.”
“All right, all right.” The werewolf laughed, though it held more pain than any real humor. He was running on pure machismo. He probably had his best buds hanging around close by and didn’t want to lose face with them. He turned his head and gazed at her over his shoulder. “Jeez, honey. How long’s it been since you got laid?” He gave her a once-over, as much as he could with his arm still twisted in the middle of his back. “You need to lighten up.”
“I’ll lighten you up,” she croaked, her throat raw, voice hoarse with building rage. Since when did being pretty and having boobs give men permission to touch without asking? Her horn buds burst from beneath her skin. Her vision became awash with yellow. She put one hand at the small of her back, wrapping her fingers around the hilt of her silver dagger. “Werewolves can recover from a lot of wounds, but I bet you can’t grow back a hand. Unless you’re part lizard. Let’s see, shall we?”
“Nix.” Tobias’s voice was low. “That’s enough. Let him go.”
She held on for another few seconds, just to make her point, then let go of the werewolf’s arm and walked away. The werewolf’s muffled “Bitch” almost made her turn back around but she forced her feet to keep moving away from him.
Tobias caught up with her at the end of the bar. “What the hell was that about?” he asked, his voice as hard as the hand he wrapped around her upper arm.