While the vampire had a strong, and mostly justified, opinion of his superiority, Gideon knew he wasn"t rash. But they"d known he was coming, had time to plan. Just as Gideon feared, they"d set a trap for him, something Daegan hadn"t expected, and it had worked. Plus, the vampire had an additional distraction this time. He"d done this to smooth the way to save Anwyn"s life, preserve her status with the Council, and that would have overridden some normal caution in his approach. Gideon knew it, because he would have done the same if he were in Daegan"s overpriced shoes. Damn it.
The two vampires on the door were, as advertised, from military stock. He saw it in their bearing, level of attention and how they handled the weapons they carried. It was also in their quick recognition that Gideon had some of the same skills. Gideon forced himself to be deferential, not meeting their eyes to acknowledge what they were as he helped his Mistress out of the vehicle.
She"d brought a red dress with long sleeves and a high neck that clung to her from throat to midthigh like a wet skin. There was a diamond of sheer black cloth at the navel and between the breasts, showing her generous cleavage. Another in the back was so low that it was possible to discern the dimple between her buttocks if a man strained his eyes. He didn"t doubt there"d be plenty of eye straining. A jeweled belt rode low on her hips, crafted with chains and glittering red gems. Her heels were red stilettos, a staggering five inches. He had no idea how any woman could walk practically on her toes, but she not only did it, but also managed it with the right amount of swing in the hips, her ass sitting up so high and tight no man could help but look at it. Her sable hair was loose, brushing against that pendulum sway, tempting a man"s hands.
At her own club, when she dressed the part of Dominatrix, she was more severely put together. In this outfit, the sexuality still pulsed around her, but it was like the allure of the Holy Grail. A man might hesitate to touch, but he"d do it with just a little encouragement from those lush lips. This look said she was a Mistress, but one still young in her skills, a bit wild and reckless with the sexual vibes. One who might need a strong hand to help her rein them in and guide her. He thought Daegan would admire it as much as he did . . . and still have trouble rolling his tongue back in his mouth if he could see her.
Actually, if this had been the three of them going to a club for their own enjoyment, a disturbingly intriguing thought, Gideon expected the vampire would simply unsheathe his fangs and make it clear anyone who tried to touch her would lose more than fingers. He had a similar feeling himself, but one he had to curb, because that wasn"t the role he was supposed to play here. Fuck and double damn it.
As he closed the door, he gave Debra an even look and a nod, which she returned before she drove off, headed to the parking area. It was late enough that the crowd was thinning a little, but music still pumped out of the club like a fountain.
Gideon produced the envelope that Brian had given him and handed it over to the vampire at the door, managing an obsequious nod of his head that let him scan what the man was carrying. Probably a Bowie knife, some smaller knives and of course a wire to decapitate silently and with less muss, laced behind his dark belt. Both men were dressed in black fatigues.
“Welcome, Mistress Anwyn,” one of them said with a slight nod of his head, his dark eyes roving over her in speculation. Gideon had to suppress an urge to step in front of her as he saw that despicable game begin, the way vampires tested one another, seeing what the pecking order might be. What they could get away with toward her. “You may prefer to skip the upper floor and go directly to the second level. The public and private viewing rooms there offer our kind more intense entertainments.”
“How kind,” she said, her voice that throaty purr she did so well. “Actually, I"m interested in all levels of the club, since I run my own fetish club in the States. Club Atlantis? Would the proprietor have the time and kindness to give me a more in-depth tour?” It was a calculated risk. If Lord Stephen had shared any background on Daegan that might include his involvement with Anwyn, the game was up before she"d gotten out of the car.
Gideon watched their reactions closely as the two guards glanced at each other.
“He"s on the grounds tonight, but is currently entertaining another guest.” There was an unpleasant glint of fang as the two guards shared the private joke. Unfortunately, Gideon was all too aware of the meaning. A flash of heat shot through Anwyn"s eyes, a warning of stirred blood, but then it was gone before he could tense in preparation. She was keeping it leashed down damn well. He knew her desire to find Daegan was pumping behind a wall like a dike about to blow.
“However,” the guard continued, his gaze undressing her again, “while „kind" is not a word normally applied to Master Xavier, he might be willing, if you have an incentive to offer him.” Her spine straightened, just enough, and she met his gaze. “I understand the pleasure of incentives . . . for our kind. I might be willing to entertain them, for Master Xavier specifically.” She gave a cool smile. “I"ll hope he is available, so we can make the tour mutually pleasurable. Until then, I need no guide. I"ll enjoy wandering through the club, making my own impressions.”
Giving a quick flash of smile, she shifted her hips, tossed her hair back. “If that"s permissible, I promise not to bite anyone.”
The right combination of promise and denial. Of course, this was just getting in the door.
Obviously not forewarned, unless they were better actors than Gideon suspected, the guards had no reason to be suspicious. Why would anyone be rescuing a vampire assassin from the bowels of their club, after all? Since Daegan"s capture had been an ambush set up by a Council member, there was no reason for Xavier to be concerned about an obvious fledgling.
Gideon was sure Xavier was blood-connected to his two bouncers, so they"d likely already given him a mental heads-up, a mind “videocam” of their new arrival. While Anwyn had considerable weapons at her disposal, and she was vampire, she couldn"t stand against even one of these older and more experienced vamps. Definitely not in those heels. Of course, toe-to-toe, he likely couldn"t either. She was the one with the wits; he was the brawn. He"d let her lead until the time came for otherwise.
Let me lead? Perhaps I’ll allow you to take over when I know it’s wise.
Typical woman. But he was glad to hear her voice in his head with the admonishment. She"d assumed the role, pushing the rest aside for now. That was what they both needed for this to work.
“The hostess will come find you when the owner is free,” the one said, handing back the note. Anwyn passed it to Gideon without looking at him, and he took it, sliding it into his jacket. She"d let him keep his dark jeans, but his chest was bare beneath the coat, the scarlet trinity visible on his left pectoral above his heart. He also wore the collar she"d bought for him, distinctive and bold on his neck. Even now, despite the circumstances, it was still capable of giving him that weird feeling.
He"d made a calculated risk by visibly arming himself, counting on vampire arrogance. He waited impassively to see if he"d made a mistake as they had him open the coat so they could see the shoulder harness for the steel knives and gun.
“My servant is protective of me,” she noted with an indulgent smile. “But I expect I won"t have any problems here.”
“No,” the doorman said. “There"s not much he could do against us. He can keep his pretty toys. Good-quality knives,” he noted with a soldier"s approval.
Gideon thought of the thirty-six vampires like this smug bastard, the ones he"d staked in a variety of unexpected ways. It helped him keep his expression neutral as he inclined his head and followed Anwyn into the bowels of the Coffin.
It was the typical Goth club with a vampire fetish, almost a cliché, though a classy and expensive one. Lots of vampire paraphernalia, like the useless garlic cloves and many flashing silver and gold crosses hanging from the rafters. If someone came in with a cross, they were encouraged to loop it over the beams, a playful admission that they were throwing any protection for their souls away as they entered. Gideon saw a wide variety up there, everything from cheap pewter costume wear to crosses that might have been given to a kid as a graduation gift and lost in a moment of drunken stupidity. He didn"t doubt that among them were crosses the vampires had placed there, sly trophies of actual kills amid harmless props.
True to the modus operandi of a smart bad guy, other transgressions in the club were kept to a minimum. He didn"t see any indications of hard-drug users, dealers or professionals hustling the crowd. He didn"t suspect these vamps feared law enforcement, though. Police were just an annoying inconvenience that could ruin the sweet deal they"d built here. No kills would ever be connected to this place. They"d be found far from these hallowed doors, if at all. He"d seen enough of this kind of vampire to know right away these guys killed when they wanted to kill, not at Council discretion or in respect of the “twelve human deaths per year allowed” rule. And Stephen covered for them so they"d do his dirty work. Asshole, conniving-prick weasel.
Anwyn had stopped, staring up at the crosses. She grazed her fingers along them, so that they moved against one another like wind chimes. You’d expect the gateway to Hell to look like this. Childishly whimsical and horrible at once.
Can you hear him, Anwyn? He moved closer, concerned about the tone of her mind, but she glanced over her shoulder at him with clear eyes, even as she took her hand down, scraped those nails high on his thigh, teasing at his groin.
No. Either he’s not answering because he doesn’t want us here, or he’s unconscious.
Well, tell the bastard we’re not leaving until we find him, so if he’s awake, he might as well help us out so we’re not walking in blind. He dipped his head, kissed her shoulder beneath the cloth of the snug dress, nuzzled until she pushed him away with studied indifference, and moved onward.
As he"d noted, it was a thinning crowd because of the late hour, so it made her that much more noticeable. Anwyn sauntered without any obvious haste, taking advantage of it. As if she were at a gallery, she studied the slaves who"d been hung on meat hooks with leather straps.