Page 18 of Bootleg Love

They're so proud to show off their latest acquisition. The thought is intoxicating. I give a surreptitious wink their way as the opening strains of my song begin.

Lights blaze down, casting me in a halo of shimmering beams. My voice slips free, husky and dripping with innuendo as I begin my signature number. The pounding rhythm of the bass thrums through my blood as I sway my hips in a hypnotic figure eight. My beaded satin gown clings to every curve, the fringe whispering sinfully with each step.

In the darkness beyond the stage, dozens of eyes glimmer - feral gold, piercing violet, hungry crimson. The supernatural denizens of Le Voile de Sang, captivated by the siren in the spotlight. I can feel the weight of their stares, the force of their desire washing over me in waves.

But I don't falter, don't break the spell. My voice croons promises of passion, of sweet, sinful abandon.

I hold them in the palm of my hand, enslaved by my voice, my body, the intoxicating mythic power that runs through my veins. This is my kingdom - the stage, the creatures beyond, all of it mine to rule over through the sheer force of my allure.

The air in Le Voile de Sang suddenly erupts with the staccato of gunfire.

Bullets strafe the stage, sending splinters of wood flying. The band cries out as a hail of glass showers them from shattered bottles behind the bar. Screams pierce the air.

I drop to the floor, curling into a ball as the gunshots continue to ring out. My heart thunders in my ears, breath coming in ragged gasps.

What's happening?

Who's attacking?

Through the blinding haze of fear, I catch a glimpse of the assailants pouring into the club - a gang of vampires bristling with automatic weapons. Rage and bloodlust twist their features into inhuman snarls.

Oh god, where are my protectors? Are they hurt? Alive? Panic claws at my throat as I scan the pandemonium, desperate to catch sight of them amidst the stampeding crowd and sprays of gunfire.

13

ETIENNE

Iwatch in horror as the gunmen burst into the club, spraying bullets across the stage.

Simone drops to the floor, curling into a ball to protect herself. But then, in a move that makes my heart stutter, she retrieves a pistol from...somewhere...and starts firing back at the attackers.

Her face is set in a mask of fierce determination as she squeezes off round after round.

A profound realization hits me like a bolt of lightning - she's our fated mate. I can feel it with every fiber of my being, an undeniable psychic shockwave ricocheting through the pack bonds. Lucien and Auguste feel it too in that same endless second, their heads whipping around to find her amidst the chaos.

I don't hesitate. Leaping from the balcony, I shift in mid-air, hitting the floor on four paws. My wolf's predatory focus zeroes in on reaching Simone's side. I dodge bullets and trampled bodies, dodging and weaving with liquid grace, my only thought to protect what is ours.

She's out of ammo now, her pistol clattering to the floor. A snarling vampire lunges for her throat, his eyes glowing crimson with feral hunger. With a powerful burst of muscle, I slam into his body, sending him flying across the room to smash through a table.

I stand over Simone, hackles raised in challenge as she scrambles back against the stage.

Her eyes are wide, breath coming in ragged pants. She stares up at me and I can see the flash of primal recognition there, the comprehension that I am hers and she is mine.

Lucien and Auguste wolf out and fight their way through the stampeding crowd towards us, the other wolves moving in lethal synchronicity around them. We form an unbreakable circle around our chosen, daring any of the vampires to try to reach her.

Finally, the vampires' leader - Vasile - calls a retreat and the gang flees, their parting taunts promising brutal retribution. In the sudden quiet, I pull Simone into my arms, breathing in her delicate jasmine scent to reassure myself she's truly unharmed.

Lucien and Auguste drop to their knees, embracing her between the three of us in desperation. We need this visceral proof that she's alive, that we haven't lost her before we've even had the chance to claim her.

"You're ours," I rasp against her silky hair. "My mate. Ours."

And in that moment, when Simone melts against us with a shuddering sigh, I feel the burning cord of destiny sizzle and snap into place between us. She was forged for this destiny, for us, just as surely as we were made to possess her.

A fiery agony lances through my shoulder and I realize with a jolt that I've been hit, several slugs of buckshot burrowed deep. I try to shrug it off, not wanting to worry her further.

"I'm fine, petite. Just a flesh wound."

The rest of our gang regroups now that the threat has been neutralized. Lucien waves us over and they lay me out on the bar, Sabina already rummaging in her witchy little satchel.

---