Chapter Four

Max waited until the occupants of the other car entered the club before he led Erica around to the front of the building. He stopped with his hand on the curving handle of the front door and gave her a hard look. “Last chance to back out.”

“Open the door.”

Her response didn’t surprise him. What did, however, was that he found her tough act endearing. She definitely had courage. Maybe on someone else he would have called it unbridled stupidity, but on her it worked. The quiet desperation in her eyes touched a long-neglected chord in him and he decided, despite his better judgment, that she just might be smart enough to play it cool.

He opened the door, and they entered the sultry atmosphere of Club Dead.

Inside, Melinda, the Friday-night hostess, sat on a four-foot high stool next to the inner door. Her skinny legs, sheathed in black stockings, twined around each other, and she balanced a narrow leather guest book in her lap. The vampiress smiled at him, showing off her newly sharpened fangs.

“Max! You look great, as always. Who’s this? Someone new?” There was just a hint of ferocity in the look she gave Erica. That had nothing to do with Max. Melinda barely tolerated human women. She preferred to feed from males.

“This is--”

“Ricki,” Erica blurted the pseudonym, drawing a frown from Melinda. “Hi.”

Max yanked her arm, hard. “That’s enough talk.” He smiled apologetically at Melinda. “She’s very new.”

The hostess nodded, but disapproval colored her pale features. “Table for two?”

“Yes.”

“Go on in.” Melinda touched a button on the wall behind her. The inner doors opened, and she ushered them deeper into the club.

Max felt Erica stiffen as he pulled her inside the darkened interior where black lights illuminated the carefully painted décor. It looked like a neon garden. Here and there spotlights shone on couples and triples engaged in everything from quiet conversation to blatantly sexual feeding frenzies.

He tugged again, and Erica stumbled after him. “Keep walking,” he said in his most severe tone.

“I think you--” He cut off her protest with a fang-bearing sneer then splayed his fingers over the bite mark on her neck where he applied just enough pressure to cause discomfort.

“Remember what we discussed. In here, you do everything I say, when I say it. If you have a problem with the way I treat you, we’ll discuss it when the evening is over.”

He saw her swallow another sharp remark. To her credit, she broke eye contact first, dropping her gaze in nearly perfect subservience.

“Let’s get to our table. I’m thirsty.” He pulled her gently this time, and she kept up with his pace as he made his way through the club to the very back where the B-list patrons got to sit. Once there, he guided her to a chair and then pulled his own as close to hers as possible. Under the table, he put one hand on her exposed knee and squeezed then slid his thumb up beneath the taut strap of her garter.

“Those shoes are too high for you. The next time we go out, wear something more comfortable. I don’t want you stumbling all over the place.”

She nodded, and he squeezed her thigh in approval.

With his index finger he traced a line down her jaw and into the collar of her blouse. He gently pushed the material aside, exposing one thin strap of her bra, which he nudged off the curve of her shoulder. “That’s better. Now, I’m going to tell you, in detail everything I’m going to do to you tonight, do you understand?”

Again she nodded, and again he squeezed.

“First I’m going to order you a drink. Then I’m going to teach you everything you need to know about being a feeder ... one delicious drop at a time.”

* * * *

Erica fought to steady her breathing as Max caressed her thigh beneath the table. The thud of her own wild pulse drowned out much of what he was saying, which was a good thing, because her cognitive skills had bottomed out the moment they walked inside.

The humid atmosphere had surprised her at first. She hadn’t expected a tropical feel to the place, and if that had been the only shock, she would have been fine.

When her eyes adjusted to the black light she saw the neon splotches of color that dripped from the walls, puddled on the floor and ran in rivulets across the tables and chairs. The décor didn’t shock her as much as the patrons, though.

The first couple that had come into view as they entered the club seemed perfectly normal. Seated at a small table, their half-finished meal before them, the man pulled the woman to him in a romantic embrace. Her eyes widened when he bit into her neck, and Erica imagined she heard the rush of blood as he suckled. The woman moaned in carnal pleasure, and her eyes lit on Erica’s for a brief moment. Her short dark hair and thin white shoulders looked achingly familiar, causing Erica’s heart to pump an overdose of adrenaline into her system. By the time her brain registered that the woman was not Elena, her head was pounding in time to her heartbeat, and her legs had begun to tremble.

At the next table they passed, a woman sat on her knees at the feet of a sedate looking man in an Armani suit. Another woman sat on his lap, leaning back against his chest as he drank from her and caressed her breasts through the nearly transparent fabric of her blouse. Erica stared at the thin, glittering chain that connected the woman on the floor to the woman on the man’s lap by leather cuffs on their wrists.

She might have left then, but she realized she needed to sit down more than she needed to flee.

With her hands on the cool surface of the table, she concentrated on maintaining control. She’d never felt like this before and she wondered if the sensations were akin to a drug-induced high. Twinges of electrical current raced up and down her spine with detours to the sensitive flesh beneath Max’s thumb. With her pulse racing and the humid air dampening her skin, she felt close to having a heart attack.

When a waitress finally brought the drink Max had ordered for her, she reached for the glass and gulped. Only after she’d drained it halfway did she realize there was little, if any, alcohol in it. She set the glass down with trembling fingers.

“Are you all right?” His voice seemed normal when he whispered in her ear. Before, when he’d been giving her orders, he sounded commanding in a way that should have made her angry and insulted. The fact that it made her tremble with forbidden desires frightened her and made her feel slightly shameful.

“I’m fine. I don’t see Elena.”

“This isn’t the whole club. What we’re going to have to do is wait a little while, then on our way out take a walk through the grotto in the back.”

“There’s something farther back than this lousy table?” She felt suddenly brave, giddy in fact. She wondered what exactly was in the drink.

He laughed. “There’s another room around the corner there.” He pointed to a spot where slashes of orange neon paint converged in a caricature of a couple in a fevered embrace.

Erica felt a jolt of anticipation at what might be back there, and the still-coherent part of her brain reigned in the aberrant impulse. All she wanted was to find Elena and get out of here, get away from Max Hart and go back to her normal human life. At least, that should have been all she wanted.

She concentrated on keeping her hands steady as she lifted her glass for another sip. “Drink it slowly,” Max said.

“What ... what’s in it?”

“Just scotch and soda.”

There had to be something other than alcohol. Only a drug could explain the way she felt. Her eyes drifted back to the threesome, just barely visible in the dimness. The woman on the floor began unbuttoning her blouse and while Erica stared, she rose and switched places with the other. When the man bit into her flesh, Erica looked away.

“Why do they do that in public?” she asked under her breath. She bit her lip as the waitress sauntered by with a tray of drinks and prayed no one but Max heard her question. His response was to inch his fingers a little higher up her thigh.

“Careful. Keep your voice down.” He dipped his finger in the cool amber liquid in her glass and brought it to Erica’s lips. “Lick.”

She hesitated only a second. Some unknown force made her desperate to obey him, and she captured the shimmering drop on the tip of her tongue.

“You’ll think this is amusing, but it’s a privacy issue. Many vampires lead human lives. They maintain homes in town, hold down jobs. A very small percentage even have families....”

“How--” Erica’s question died on her lips when Max dug his fingertips into her leg.

“Shhh. I’ll answer all your questions. As I was saying, they have friends and family who may not know they’re vampires. It’s a difficult existence. They come here to feed without fear of being seen by someone who doesn’t know what they really are. They can be free here. Not everyone comes to the bars. Some find feeders other ways and are able to feed privately. I’d say most of us envy them.”

Erica lifted her glass, but her mind was on the position of Max’s hand. She wondered if he felt the moisture on her inner thigh. She wanted to move and relieve the sudden pressure between her legs, but that would only draw his fingers higher.

“And yes, some vampires have families. No, we can’t procreate. But some were turned after they had spouses and children. There aren’t many. It’s a terrible burden, to know you won’t die--a natural death anyway--and your children will grow old while you remain young.”

Erica nodded. The pang of sympathy she felt concerned her. Why would the plight of a vampire affect her? How could she have spent more than a minute thinking of something other than Elena?

“You need to relax,” Max said, dipping his head close to her neck again. “Your muscles are like bowstrings. Take a breath.”

She tried to comply but a nervous giggle threatened. “What’s in the drink?”

“Nothing really.”

“Come on.”

“What would you like me to tell you? That I drugged you so that you’ll be compliant later? So you’ll lie still while I undress you and explore your body until I find the perfect spot to sink my teeth into?”

Erica looked up at the swirls of neon pink on the ceiling. Her nerve endings were on fire. She should have gotten up and walked out--run out. But all she could think of was how much she wanted him to do just as he described.

Oh God. This can’t be happening. I’m not hot for a vampire. I’m not.

“Finish your drink. It’s time to take a walk.”

This time Erica had no luck keeping her hands from shaking. Her drink sloshed a little, and a drop landed on the table. Max glanced up sharply as the remaining ice cubes clinked together like old bones. “Take it easy.”

He touched his finger to the glistening drop on the table then touched the spot just above her exposed collarbone. The cold jolted her, shot an arrow of fire to her core. Involuntarily she arched her back when he brought his head down and licked the spot where he’d just dabbed her skin. The small sound she made in the back of her throat surprised them both.

“Right there. That’s a good spot. I can drink from there and you can hide it under your clothes during the day, but you’ll know it’s there. Every time you see the mark, you’ll remember I was there.”

“What are you trying to--”

“Let’s go, now.” Again he cut her off. He withdrew his hand from her leg slowly, trailing each finger from her aching flesh one at a time, leaving her breathless.

He left a folded bill on the table and pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

“Of course,” she said with confidence she didn’t feel. In the time they’d been sitting, she’d forgotten how to walk, how to talk, how to do anything other than exactly what he told her to do. Her body rebelled with a dizzy rush and she swayed.

He caught her around the waist and righted her, tucking her against his side in a possessive embrace. “You’re doing fine. But you’ll need to learn some discipline. I’m looking forward to teaching you all you need to know.”