Phoenix Fallen (6 page)

Rehearsals were a necessary evil, but it didn't mean Rissa had to like them. For one thing, none of the band were vamps, or even shades, so that meant waking at the first fading of the sun so that she could get into the club at a decent enough hour that the rest of them could enjoy their 'day off'.

She yawned and sipped her BBC; brandy, Bailey's and coffee, which as far as she was concerned was ambrosia. It was true that as a vamp, caffeine and alcohol had very little effect on her undead body, but physical memory died a lot harder than flesh. The warmth of the cup, the taste and the smell of the liquid had an effect alright, even if it was just psychological.

Rissa was having other psychological issues right now, too. Jules hadn't been back since that night they'd argued. Well, except for last night, when she was positive she'd seen him duck in for a minute.

Before disappearing again.

Asshole.

He was an annoying, grumpy, new vamp headcase. So what if she found him sexy as hell? She was better off without him around. Winding her up with worry and that ridiculous lust…

She sighed and lowered her face to her cup, breathing in the delightful smell, hoping it would clear her head, when Benny let out a deliberate cough. Rissa looked up to see Jules standing just inside the front doors. Well, hell.

"I think the sign says 'Closed'." She said, a full minute after their eyes caught and held.

He shrugged and walked toward the stage. "If the sign means what it says, then someone should lock the goddamn door."

"Let's take five, peeps." Benny said as Rissa leaned over and set her half-empty mug on an amp. The rest of the band moved off down the hall to the dressing rooms. When those sounds faded, the bar was eerily quiet. Jules stood at the footlights below her. Her bare foot swung back and forth as she returned his look, her discarded heels resting against the amp.

Jules watched her painted toes do their pendulum thing for a moment. Then he reached out and wrapped one big hand around her calf, halting her motion.

Rissa's lips parted as she took in a breath at the feel of his skin against hers. She tried to pull back, but his grip tightened.

"I already said I was sorry. But I'll say it again, if you need me to." His words were quiet, but his eyes spoke volumes.

She looked down at him for a second, then slumped slightly in defeat. He smiled and jumped up on stage in one, easy motion. For a big man he could move light as a cat when he wanted to. "That took the wind out of your sails, didn't it?"

Rissa straightened, folding her arms as she thought about arguing, then shrugged instead when he moved her coffee cup and sat down on the amp beside her, his eyes twinkling.

"Okay, maybe a little."

"Then this is really going to bring it home."

He handed her a small, narrow box. His expression was guarded, but there was a gleam of expectation there he couldn't hide. She raised her eyebrows. Whatever he'd brought her, he really,
really
wanted her to like it. Goodness.

Her tummy trembled.

"What is this?" She turned the box over in her fingers, her thoughts jumbled.

It had been almost a week. She's nearly given up on seeing him again, had been reduced to hoping like hell she wouldn't read his name in the long list of vamp suicides in every evening paper. Last night when she'd gotten that glimpse of him, relief had flooded through her in a fierce, warm wave. Then he'd vanished. She'd been left pissed off and hurt. Again.

Now here he was. With a goddamn gift in a pretty, little box.

She shouldn't open it.

Rissa looked at the box in her hands. It was embossed, white and pale gold, butterflies and tiny scrolled hearts, silky to the touch.

She really wanted to open it.

"Oh, just open the damn thing, Rissa."

So, she did. It was a bracelet; a delicate, fanciful bauble. Graceful clusters of yellow, pink and green stones twisted together that resembled…

"Honeysuckle." He ducked his head a little at her questioning look. "You always smell like honeysuckle to me, so…"

Rissa couldn't look at him then. She lifted the twinkling strand from the cotton, watching it twist in the shadowy light. In her long life she'd been given many gifts by many men, but never one this sweet.

"Thank you," she whispered. He tugged it from her numb grasp and pulled her wrist into his lap.

He worked the fastener with surprising dexterity for a man with such large fingers, then made her melt a little further by pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before releasing her. The soft touch of his lips had made her tummy tremble again. Hard.

Her heart was pounding. Damn silly physical memory, but she wasn't complaining.

"So...," he said, those dark eyes heavy on hers. "Are we good?"

She sighed. "Maybe…. Will you come to Crave tonight?"

The bleeder club she frequented. She couldn't let this go. He had to learn to take care of himself.

He returned her sigh, with interest. "You really know how to press an advantage, don't you, woman?"

"That's not an answer."

"Oh alright…on one condition. You come to dinner with me on Saturday."

Rissa gave a surprised smile, "A date? For real? You're kidding me."

"Sorta. I have some friends who want to met you."

That wiped the smile off her face. From the tone of his voice these were more than just friends. Someone very important to him.

He'd been talking about her to someone very important to him.

Well, double
hell.

Jules grinned at her change in demeanor. "Fair's fair."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright, but the food better be good."

"The best."

And maybe, just maybe, Rissa thought as she watched him leave a few minutes later, she'd get a taste of Jules for dessert.

A couple hours later, Jules stood frowning up at a dark building. It didn’t look like a club. Bleeder or otherwise. It looked foreboding and empty. Other than the strangely subdued sounds of the city around him, nothing stirred. He was tempted to look at the card again, but resisted the urge. He knew was the damn place.

He stepped up to the door, but before he could raise his hand, it opened. The distant murmur of voices and music spilled out into the night. A man appeared, his hand outstretched. Featureless, backlit by the glow of lights from inside, he stood there, silent and waiting.

Wow, they really went for the atmosphere, didn't they?

Probably for the humans.

Jules rolled his eyes, but handed over the card Rissa had given him. Without glancing at it, the man waved him in.

The hallway was narrow and twisting, like a tunnel. Golden light holding the faintest touch of crimson and the most enticing smells teased Jules forward. His mouth started to water and his gut clenched.

That was blood. A shitload of it. Well, what had he expected?

Bleeder. Club.

Abruptly he came around a corner and space yawned around him. It was bigger than even Phoenix's immense atrium, but without the glass and view of the sky. The impression was of a gigantic cavern, hewn of metal and mirrors instead of rock. They must have knocked out half the floors in this old apartment building, but that was hardly the extent of the stunning renovation.

Staircases to nowhere ran up the walls, catwalks hung suspended over his head with no visible means of access, but crowded with people, nevertheless. Chandeliers hung at various heights, dripping with gold and red lights, the source of the glow he had seen in the corridor coming down.

A hammered copper bar dominated the center of the open space. Circular and massive, it held the eye, especially when Jules saw what it offered. Kneeling at all points of the compass around the ring were humans. Their heads were bowed, their posture submissive but eager — you could feel the anticipation humming from them over the music. Freaky.

When he got closer he could see each one rested their hands palm up on their thighs, a small cut on every right wrist that trickled matching scarlet lines down various shades of skin. That had to be the source of the overwhelming smell.

Jules stepped up to the bar out of pure curiosity.

The bartender moved over at once, eyeing Jules up and down once, then nodding shortly. "What'll it be, sir?"

"What do you got?"

The man's look was smug. "Everything. Feel free to sample any of the vintages on tap. From sweet and young," he tapped the heads of the two people immediately in front of Jules, both blond; one male, one female. The humans shivered, but otherwise didn't acknowledge the conversation taking place over them.

"Or slightly aged and mellow." He jerked his head to indicate a point farther along to Jules' left. As the bartender leaned forward, Jules realized with a slight tingle of shock that he was human as well.

"We also have virgin bleeders on reserve, rare stock, never been bitten. Not
ever.
That is guaranteed, sir. You do have to drink those in a private room, though. The screams. I'm sure you understand."

Bemused, Jules nodded, resisting the urge to blink. "Of course. And these are all willing participants, are they?"

The bartender frowned, leaning back at once. "Of course, sir. You should know that if…"

The honeysuckle scent alerted him even before the bartender's voice trailed away, instantly oozing even more oily charm than he'd produced for Jules. "Miss Styles. Anything from the bar for you tonight?"

"No, Ashton. Thank you."

Rissa was wearing the champagne silk of his fantasies. Jules' fingers tightened on the bar.

A dress that pretended to be demure, but most assuredly was not. Any more than the woman filling it out. The rich fabric hugged her from shoulders to hips, then flared wide, falling in shimmering waves to the floor. A slit clean to her hip gave him a flickering peep show of those gorgeous legs encased in sheer black thigh-highs. Her heels were strappy, gold and lethal.

Her red hair had been gathered in an artful knot at the back of her neck, highlighting that elegant throat. Whispers of flame kissing silky pale skin. Jules swallowed, hunger flaring in him so fiercely he heard the blonde kneeling on the bar suppress a whimper as she swayed toward him in response.

He stepped back, facing Rissa, his head cocked as he waved a hand, encompassing the whole mad cavern.

"You call this tasteful?"

"You prefer the woods?"

Jules gave her a dour look and Rissa laughed, throwing her head back. That throaty trill made shivers dance down his spine.

"This is the outer reaches, you might say. For the lookie-loos and those who like a faster scene. You and I are headed deeper. Normally you'd need sanget to go where we are headed, but you're with me." She smiled at him.

Sanget. Huh. An ancient vamp currency Jules had never even seen. Very posh then and…

Deeper. He wondered what that would mean.

At Jules' questioning glance, she put a hand on his arm. Only then did he realize she was wearing gloves. Fingerless, black lace gloves. Her nails were painted a wine-red that stood out like blood against her alabaster skin. He got a vivid image of those slender fingers wrapped around his cock; a soft but firm grip, the rasp of the lace…

He shook his head hard to dispel the vision, but the tension in his groin wouldn't dissipate quite so easily. Irritated with himself, Jules turned from the bar only to catch the flash of a familiar face across the room.

Jesus, what the hell was Mags doing here?

The para caught his eye and rippled her fingers at him slyly before her gaze drifted to Rissa and her eyebrows shot up.

Fuck.

Magdalena Foley was a telepath that had been employed at Phoenix for several years. He'd known her since she was a teenager. She was a pain in the ass, but she was also a friend. And there was absolutely no reason that he could think of for her to be at some vamp bleeder club.

He gave her a suspicious frown, but she only raised her delicate eyebrows and toasted him with her drink.

Mags looked like a modern-day Celtic princess, skin that had that subtle porcelain glow blushed with pink, hair black as a starless night and eyes of cerulean blue.

“My god, she’s gorgeous.” This from Rissa, who had obviously noted their silent exchange.

Jules shook his head. “No, what she is, is hell on wheels. Don’t let those angelic looks fool you. That girl has more power in her pinky finger than half the staff at Phoenix combined.” He gave Mags a short nod, letting her know they were going to discuss this later. Her lips curved even more before she nodded back, then turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Who is she?”

“A co-worker.” Jules dismissed Mags and turned back to Rissa. He was surprised to see her eyeing him narrowly.

“And a friend.” The remark wasn’t a question.

His eyebrows raised as he noticed a tiny tic in Rissa’s jaw. Oh …no way. He tried hard to hide the smile that wanted to come. This might be fun if he played it right.

“You could say that.” He made his tone deliberately evasive.

She tossed her bright head and moved off through the crowd. He followed at her heels, smirking at her backside. Her sweet, curvy backside that twitched back and forth with every quick, irritated step.

“You’re jealous.”

She stopped at his words.

“Am I?” Her voice was cool, but he could see the flush working up her throat when he came alongside her. He chuckled and leaned over to breathe in her ear.

“Yup. You are.”

“Mmm, I think you mean curious.”

“Nope. I mean, jealous. As is the green-eyed monster. Admit it, Rissa.”

She gave him a side-long gaze. “My eyes are blue, see? Not a hint of green. Besides, I seem to remember you saying weren’t interested in me. So, what I think or don’t think about your pretty little co-worker should be irrelevant.”

Now it was Jules’ turn to get hot under the collar.
Not interested?
She didn't mean that. Of course, he
had
said…

He grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the glided door she’d pointed out to him earlier. “Hey.”

She lifted her chin to look him in the eye, her gaze ice-blue and serene, not a trace of her fluster of a few minutes before. He had to admire the woman’s control, even as something tensed inside him at the idea she might really think that he and Mags …

“Mags and I are friends. Just friends. Okay? To be clear.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not my business, remember?"

"Damnit, Rissa. I said I was sorry."

She yanked free of his hold and pushed through the door. Jules followed the sway of her lush ass, cursing silently.

This time the hallway was wide, carpeted so thickly he felt like he was walking on springy turf. It opened quickly into what appeared to be a comfortable sitting room, all in cool greens, gold and black; art deco style. Complete with actual lounge chairs like out of some old Bette Davis movie and sunburst mirrors.

Rissa moved through this room with barely a pause to place her hand on a passing man's shoulder, her lips just brushing his ear and whispering a word or two before she moved on.

He picked up the pace and came alongside her. They were in another wide hallway, this one lined with doors. "Where are we going?"

And who are we drinking?

He knew Rissa was no empath but she seemed to catch his thought process anyway.

"
I've
already fed tonight. You're going into a private room. Here." She stopped and opened a door. There was no number and it looked exactly like all the other doors they had passed. "I took the liberty of picking your bleeder tonight, since it's your first time and all."

Jules rubbed the back of his neck when she stepped back, leaving the door ajar. "Rissa…"

"It's okay, Jules. I'm sorry, too.” She turned to face him directly, her cheeks a bit pink. “That was unfair. Maybe …maybe I
was
a little…"

"Jealous?"

Her eyes narrowed. He lifted his hands. "Okay, okay. Never mind." He laughed. "It's all good."

Then Jules reconsidered that statement. He really wasn't sure
how
he felt about this. It seemed so much more…personal here, than Spears. It was cleaner, sure but it also seemed so much more real. It brought what he was home in a way that wrenched him deep inside.

A vamp. Using someone for their blood. No better than a prostitute's john really. Jules rubbed the back of his neck again, suppressing a shudder.

Rissa leaned forward on her toes, cupping his jaw in her hand, her fingertips soft, the lace tickling his skin.

"It will be okay, Jules. It's not so different than what you're used to after all. Just far less impersonal and a whole lot more safe and satisfying. For both bleeder and vampire."

Jules understood that, and that was part of what was making him uncomfortable. It was
too
fucking personal in this setting. Too intimate to do this here. In the woods, it was very
im
personal. He didn't even look at their faces. He stared down at Rissa, inhaling deeply of her scent, trying to relax.

Jules knew damn well he wouldn't feel uncomfortable with Rissa. He'd enjoy drinking from her. Very much. Just the thought made the monster inside him claw demandingly at his ribs, wanting to be let out. He swallowed hard and watched her eyes widen as he took a step toward her.

"What is it, Jules?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.

He reached out and encircled her throat with one hand. He could tell she had fed recently from the light, quick pulse of her jugular under his thumb.

Vampire's bodies were essentially dead, but animated by blood, and fresh blood alone. Without nightly feedings, the organ systems and mechanics of life would slow and eventually stop. Skin grew cold and hard, hearts went still. Rissa felt warm and soft. He inhaled again and that honeysuckle smell of her slid down his throat like sweet nectar.

The words slipped out without conscious thought.

"I want you. I want to drink from you."

Rissa sucked in a breath and took a quick step back. Jules let his hand fall. He shouldn't have said that. He knew better.

Not that it wasn't possible.

Vampires could drink from one another. Not as a substitute for human blood, at least not a permanent one, but the act of shared blooding between vamps was far from unheard of.

In intimate relationships.

He opened his mouth to apologize yet again, but was stopped by the sound of approaching footsteps.

A woman had appeared behind Rissa. She was tall and blond, wearing an understated black gown that covered her from collarbone to heels. Her golden hair was pinned high. Jules caught a pleasing spicy scent from her that at any other time he would have found delectable. Right now it left him cold.