Page 32 of Stalked By Seduction and Shadows

“Gods above.” He gazed up as if to the heavens. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, Little Flame…” he said softly, barely audible. His eyes returned slowly, agonizingly to mine. His voice carried a sharp warning, one that finally cut through his powerful vampire magick—the allure that made vampires so deceptively inviting to their prey.

Little Flame? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And what was he threatening me with?

And why, why, did his unnamed threat go straight to my core, flooding me with warmth and yearning?

Vampire tricks. I needed to snap the hell out of it.

Here was my chance to make good on my vow—to demand he find my sister and enforce his own laws against human trafficking. I didn’t realize it would be this easy to invite the attention of the most powerful vampire in Valentin.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Snow intervened. “Seraph said he needed to fill an empty position on the server staff. She has the server experience, and the, uh, look.”

Rune appeared downright murderous, never once removing his eyes from mine the whole time Snow timidly spoke for me.

My mouth was dry, my heart leaping out of my chest. “I’m here looking for work,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

At the sound of my voice, Rune’s power flared, his jaw tensing. He seemed to perform a mental calculation, and my every instinct told me that my fate here at Odessa was what he was solving for.

“You will be a server only. Under no circumstances will you be fed from,” he said. “The job is yours.”

I struggled to comprehend his words over the blood rushing through my veins and the inexplicable urge to stay here, close to him. The energy between us was the most raw, entrancing thing I’d ever felt, as if the tables had finally been turned around on me.

This had been too easy. Far too easy. Why?

“If you perform well during tonight’s trial run, that is.”

I didn’t want to be fed from, but why didn’t he want that? Was I not attractive enough for that position? Or, more likely, he thought that if I was acting like this big of a dumbstruck fool facing him, I’d be no better dealing with the rest of the vampires in the club.

“Thank you,” I said, still in disbelief.

Again, when I spoke, his eyes flashed. He swallowed, and before I could piece together another word or make sense of what the hell was happening, he’d turned on his heel and walked away with unearthly grace. I couldn’t help but watch him as he went, disappearing into the back where two bouncers stood before descending stairs. A strange sensation erupted in my stomach as I watched him disappear.

I wanted to know what was down below, in the exclusive area of the club. Raw sexual energy emanated from its depths, even stronger than the web of desire tangling us all together on this main floor.

When I met Snow’s eyes, they were impossibly round. It looked like I wasn’t the only one with questions.

“The hell was that all about?” I asked her.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Any experience I had working at Noel’s in Crescent Haven did little to prepare me for Odessa. By the time Seraph had trained me and given me several lectures on how to behave, who to alert if things got dicey, and the lists of cocktails I needed to memorize by yesterday, Odessa had reached peak capacity.

Mortals and vampires were everywhere, and by now I’d learned that downstairs was more than a feeding club. Several patrons had now referred to it as a sex dungeon, and a couple had even propositioned me to go down there with them.

I was sloppy at first, stumbling over my words, my flirtatious remarks too slow, my wit lacking its usual sharpness, and my redirections and rejections too harsh. But as the night went on, and I became accustomed to entrancing vampire beauty, I caught my stride. The energy here was electric, flooding my veins with an intoxicating euphoria that lit up my every nerve. I leaned into it, pulled from the collective hunger, twisting it around in my palms so I could wield it as a weapon.

I worked the room, intentionally drawing out each patron’s specific desires in order to capitalize and turn them into steady, enthusiastic tippers. There was an artistry to what I did. Seduction was all about the buildup, never the release. It was individual—no tactic would work the same way on different people.

It was about identifying a lack and then subtly emphasizing it, propositioning myself as the only thing in the universe that would fill that void. For the high-strung, I was the most relaxing, easy distraction. For the thrill-seekers, I was elusive, always one step forward and two steps back, making everything I ever said a surprise, so they never knew what to expect. To the intellectuals, I was a puzzle. To the artists, I was a muse.

When I found Snow watching me intently from behind the bar, my easy smile melted away. My new friend finally saw what my sister saw in me, and now she hated me, just like all the other women back home. She finished up a drink and called me over, her face yet to reveal her disdain.

I braced myself against it, anyway.

“Scarlett,” she said, shaking her head.

I quickly pulled at the hem of my skirt.

“You are incredible.” Her eyes lit up.

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