Page 120 of Veil of Death and Shadow

“Right.” Tearing my gaze from him, I scanned the place, not entirely sure where to start, but deeply certain that I needed to not be standing in a secluded hallway pressed up against my very off-limits guardian angel. “I suppose we should start looking.”

“Lead the way,” he said.

After the first fifteen people glanced at the wrinkled photo without a flicker of recognition, I started to get frustrated; after the next twenty did the exact same, this entire venture seemed suddenly futile.

I scanned every face that I saw, but no flare of recognition hit me either.

That meant that the chances of me recalling the woman Sora had met last week were dwindling quickly—or that she wasn’t here tonight, which seemed far more likely.

I did my best to steer through the crowd in a way that kept me out of the bartenders’ view line. While I didn’t think they would remember me from last night, I didn’t want to risk getting tossed out of here. Something told me that they wouldn’t be gentle about it.

The dance floor was just as packed, just as lust filled as it had been last week, and I had to actively fight my body’s impulse to join into the lull of it.

Just when I was starting to think this was perhaps the most useless idea I’d ever had, the man next to me—lean, tall, Black, and dressed in a vibrant-green pantsuit with matching eyeliner and lashes, squinted at the photo I’d just shoved under his face.

“Do you know her?” I asked my chest aching with hope at the hesitant recognition in his eyes.

He shook his head, his brows scrunched.

“Know her, no.” His voice was deep and velvety, and he grabbed the photo from me, studying it closely. The lights reflected against his sharp cheekbones. They were highlighted in an iridescent glitter that was entrancing under the mood lighting. “But she does look familiar.”

“She’s my roommate,” I yelled, leaning closer to him in a desperate attempt to compete with the heavy base. “Please, she’s missing. Have you seen her?”

His focus shifted from the photo to me, his lips dipping into a small frown as he studied me. Concern or pity, I wasn’t entirely sure which. With a single nod, he tapped the shoulder of the woman next to him. She was dancing with a group of three people, her deep brown eyes glazed with the energy of the crowd, and maybe something even stronger. None of them wore a band that marked the humans from the demons. “Is this the girl that your friend Lav was with last week?”

It took a moment for the girl’s focus to shift, but when it did, I saw the same flash of recognition on her face as I’d found on her friend’s.

She nodded. When the man bent down to whisper into her ear, her eyes darted to mine.

I held my breath, and only when I felt his fingers fold over mine did I realize that I’d unconsciously reached for Kieran’s hand.

The girl leaned forward. She was white, and just as stunning as her friend, though dressed in a more muted color palette. Her breath was warm as she grabbed my shoulder with gentle fingers before pressing her mouth against my ear. “She was here last week, with a vampire named Lav.” Her voice was unexpectedly high, even as a whisper, almost girlish. “I don’t know if Lav is here tonight, but if she is, you’re more likely to find her in the basement. That’s where she spends most of her time.”

“Thank you,” I said, then turned to her friend, hoping my expression conveyed the depth of my gratitude, on the likelihood the music muted it, “both of you.”

“Good luck,” the girl said. “I hope you find her.”

Kieran and I wound our way towards the back, though I noticed that he kept his hand pressed close to his chest and avoided bumping into anyone, even though he could simply pass through them if he wanted.

When we reached the door that he’d stopped me from going through last week, the one that Lenora and Ren had disappeared through, my heartbeat skipped.

“You sure this is a good idea?” he asked, and his breath against my neck sent chills down my spine. “We don’t know how these rooms will affect you.”

I opened the door. “Let’s go.”

As we descended, the energy of the club changed—the power amplifying so intensely that I was practically panting from it when we reached the bottom.

“Fuck.” Kieran hissed behind me, and I felt the featherlight pressure of his fingers against the bare flesh of my arm.

I gasped at the sensation, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to lean into him.

The room was segmented with dozens of closed doors and private areas scattered around the outskirts. Soft red light glowed throughout the otherwise dark room, and the center of it was framed by tables and chairs. There were . . . performances of a sort unfolding on the stage in the middle.

A woman naked and in the feral throws of unashamed passion, was straddled over two men—both seemed to be impaling her. The three of them were tangled together, a mess of sweaty limbs and moans.

I stood there, stunned as the woman sank her teeth into one of the men’s shoulders, drawing blood. She drank her fill, then let the remnants of his blood slide down her chin, her neck, her chest. Her blue eyes were alive with lust, and when the orgasm rippled through her, I clenched my thighs as if it were mine.

“Just going to stand there all on your own, sweetheart?” A man approached; his dark eyes shot through with flares of yellow gold. “Or would you prefer some company? There are very few fantasies that go unrealized down here. You only have to say the words.”

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