Page 3 of Last Note
“Tone it down, Étienne.” He frowns at me. “Damn brother, you really should feed. You almost had me stripping off my clothes and crawling in your lap.”
“This was a mistake.” Growling through clenched teeth, I notice he wasn’t joking.
Most of the humans that are closer to us stare at me with glazed over looks, licking their lips. Female and male alike. My control slipped without my notice, drawing them to me like mindless puppets.
“What was a mistake?” Lucien slides on the other side of me, gripping three bottles of beer between his fingers.
“Étienne almost gave us an orgy right here. Me included.” Moël chuckles when I scowl at him.
“Here.” Placing the beer in front of me, Lucien swings one bottle to his lips. “Drink this, it’ll help.”
“Beer.” Grimacing at the vile liquid, I push it away. “What’s next? Dirt water?”
“Stop being such a snob! Drink the fucking thing.” Handing the third bottle to Moël, he glares at me. “It might remove the stick up your ass. Greater miracles are known to have happened.”
The blonde shows up, saving my brother from my anger at his comments. Placing a bottle of wine and three glasses on the smooth table, she gives all three of us a long once over before sashaying away. Grabbing the bottle, I turn it around, a smile lifting my lips when I see the name. Romanee-Conti Grand Cru 1990, Pinot Noir. With a nod of gratitude to Moël, I open it and pour myself a glass, enjoying the sight of the vibrant red hue of the vintage. The scent of Asian spices, exotic fruit aromas, and a touch of earth reach my nostrils, giving me a sense of home.
“You should’ve waited until he drinks the beer first,” Lucien smirks at me. “The damn bar was packed. I couldn’t get back sooner to make him drink this. I was dying to see his snobby ass choke it down.” Wrinkling his nose, he shoves the beers at whoever is closest to our table.
Snatching the glass from my hand, he leans back, taking a measured sip after swirling it under his nose. Muscle ticking in my jaw, I pour myself another. Moël does the same, and we sit back, enjoying the opulent flavors melting on our tongues. It’s the next best thing to blood if I say so myself.
“There are a couple of females who often come that you can use.” Moël breaches the subject casually. “Good enough blood to hold you over for a while. Easy to erase the memories, as well.”
“Mph…” Not convinced that I’ll enjoy it, I scan the undulating bodies.
“Look at it this way.” Lucien leans his forearms on the table, turning his head and giving me his profile. “You feed now, and you’ll be good for a month or so. Easier to live with, too.”
Last time I took blood was a few months ago. Not from a willing human, but the fucker was trying to abuse a female in an alley. He deserved to be drained dry. Taking so much can hold you over longer, I learned. Not that I’ll tell my brothers that. I’ve been disappearing while they were wasting time in this damn club, clearing the streets of scum. Humans can see it as a free service. Not that they’ll ever know who is taking the trash out.
“How about that one?”
Moël motions with his chin to a woman with voluptuous curves swaying alone on the dancefloor. With her arms lifted above her head, she twirls around, the green, skintight dress leaving nothing to the imagination. Long red hair sways down her bare back over her milky skin.
My fangs throb.
She turns our way, her green eyes meeting mine as if compelled to find me watching her. A sensual smile curves her lips as her tongue pokes out, wetting them. Her shoulders push forward, the lure so strong that she is not aware of what she is doing. Disgust has bile rising in my throat.
“No.”
“Un-fucking-believable!” Lucien bursts from my left. “It’s food. No one is asking you to find a mate, for fuck's sake. How are you even alive?” He glares at me.
Commotion at the bar grabs my attention, and I tune my brothers out. Two males are frowning at a female. Her back turned to me, only her black hair is visible under the bright light above her head. One of the males, the taller one, grabs her by the arm and shakes her while yelling something he wants everyone to hear over the music, and the words are as clear if he is standing next to me.
“I asked for a fucking dance, bitch. That means you get to fucking dance!” He sneers in her face, turning to drag her to the dance floor.
What I find peculiar is that the woman doesn’t look like she belongs here. When the male turns her enough for me to see her, I notice she is dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt zipped up to her neck, not exactly dressed to impress. I watch his face intently, remembering his features. He will be my meal tonight, I decide. One second, he is dragging her by the arm, and the next, something black and bulky swings in the air, hitting his head and knocking him on the ground.
“You bitch!” the shorter one that was following behind screams at her, and she swings around to face him.
The breath gets stuck in my throat when her face is revealed to me. Long, thick lashes frame her dark-as-midnight eyes, both of which are sparkling in anger on her beautiful face while she glares at the male. Her small, pert nose is scrunched up, red lips pressed in a thin line. She looks glorious. And she swings what I now see is a violin case, hitting the second male as well. When he too drops on the floor, people part around them, watching her in dismay. I lower my wineglass, the first real smile I’ve had in decades stretching my lips.
“Her.” Lucien and Moël jerk around to see who I’m looking at. “I want her.”
3
“Out of all of them, you want the crazy one?” Lucien’s eyebrows hit his hairline.
Shoving the wineglass in Moël’s hand, not taking my eyes off her, I push him out of the seat. An indescribable pull at the center of my chest moves me toward her. Hands reach for me, some trying to get my attention, others just gliding over, humans unable to steer away from the lure of danger. They all part when I feel Lucien and Moël coming behind me. My brothers can watch. I don’t even care at this moment.
