Page 12 of Pike

Never had, even in her teen years, and definitely not since she’d become immortal.

“Places like this, they’re just glorified dance halls, love. Relax,” Pike soothed. His gaze flipped up toward the bouncer at the door—that’s definitely what the man was, Lavinia now thought—towering a hair above seven feet tall. Pike flipped a twenty in his direction. The man caught the bill and didn’t move another muscle as the door swung inward on creaky hinges.

“After you.”

Lavinia eyed the doorway with the discernment of a skeptic from way back. Her instincts were trying to tell her something. What? It was dark inside, with booming bass and faint curls of smoke in the air in front of her. She squinted, willing her brain for a vision, willing her gifts of precognition to work on command. A snap of the finger and she would know whether it was safe to proceed or not.

Her mind was a blank slate.

“Are you sure it’s—” Her words cut off when Pike propelled her through the door and down a small set of stairs.

“You’re stalling. It’s safe, I promise. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Her heels clicked on the steps and she tried to get her knees to stiffen. At least support her enough so she didn’t go somersaulting toward the ground.

Of course she was stalling. She had enough self-preservation left to understand she was stepping over a line. This was Pike’s world. While she wanted desperately to belong, a part of her held back. There was enough human inside of her still to be wary. To know there was danger lurking around the corner and if she wasn’t careful, snap. She’d be gobbled whole. What had she said about not going back if given the chance? Yeah, maybe she wasn’t sure anymore.

The goosebumps on her arms and neck attested to the fact. She was truly scared about what lay at the bottom of those steps. What kinds of creatures she would encounter once she got down there. Creatures she thought only existed between the pages of a book.

She was one of them.

Sparing a glance at Pike, she felt warmth twisting and coiling beneath her heart. With him there, she would be fine. This she didn’t need a vision to know.

“I’ve never been better,” she assured him. She hustled down the stairs to prove her point. “I’m operating at optimum efficiency. Ready for whatever you’re going to throw my way.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She heard his feet treading lightly behind her. At once, the psychic signatures of the people packed into the space assaulted her. A vision of a young werewolf who would be challenging his pack leader for alpha status next week. A half-fairy woman out shopping with her friends and choosing a delightful blue blouse on sale at half off.

How was any of it useful?

“This club has no name,” Pike told her, leaning close. His breath tickled her ear. This time, the goosebumps had nothing to do with fear of the unknown but everything to do with the man behind her. The force of his presence and the heat of his body trailing up her spine. “It’s an off-the-radar hangout for a melting pot of different paranormals. A place for sex and sin.”

“Oh. Oookay, great.” Lavinia let out a gust of air. Then fought the urge to tug her dress to her knees and run back the way they came. Like it would do any good. With her luck, another group of ghouls would be out there waiting for her. No way she could go to a place like this and not be noticed for her scent. At least on the ghoul front.

“What do you see?” Pike asked.

Breathe! she admonished. This was all about training her to be better prepared. Training her to live in her new-ish state. She needed to be hyper-vigilant.

“I see a bunch of people dancing. Even more drinking.”

“You are the worst psychic ever. What else?”

She reached out with whatever mystical powers she possessed and came up against a thick steel wall. “I’m sorry. I don’t see anything.”

“Anyone?”

“No, nothing.” The way he stared at her, it was obvious he was disappointed. “Will you just tell me what I’m supposed to look for?”

As though sensing her mood, Pike took her hand. He didn’t let it show if her answer ticked him off. “Let’s have a drink.”

“A drink?”

“Yes, you know, those things people consume when they want to have fun and enjoy each other’s company. Surely you’ve heard of them.”

Her response came out as a stutter. The man of her dreams asking her to have a drink in a bar. All while she was wearing a dress that would look more fitting on a pre-teen from the Hamptons.

He led her to a stool and pulled it out for her. Lavinia gratefully sank down. “Thanks.”

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