Page 54 of Cloak of the Vampire
Other than the horrible food and Bowman’s boring rumblings, the visit ended without any sort of incident. Ragnor shook Bowman’s hand, and the two seemed respectful of one another. I guessed Ragnor would tolerate any sort of dreary hosting by Bowman, considering Bowman led the bank operating the Vampire Society, including the Rayne League.
Much like the visit to the Bowman League, the drive to our next stop passed uneventfully. I mostly dozed, listened to music, and sometimes even pulled out my sketchbook and sketched some stuff, wishing I had colorful crayons instead of just a pencil—I could no longer see gray after the gray onslaught in the Bowman compound. Still, eventhough I tried my best with the sketches, they looked like bad re-creations of the masterpieces Lord Atalon had painted.
When we arrived in Las Vegas, however, our second to last destination, the strange sense of boredom and peace that had befallen me and the rest came to a screeching halt.
I’d heard of the Renaldi League a few times since becoming a vampire. None of the things I’d heard were good.
The entrance to the League was through a large casino on the Vegas Strip. At first, I didn’t think much of the location—neither for the League nor for its entrance—but the moment the elevator stopped and all of us exited into the entrance hall of the underground compound, everything started to make sense.
Unlike the rest of the Leagues’ compounds, which were designed more or less the same, the Renaldi League’s was entirely different. For one, it looked like a combination of a casino, a love motel, and a brothel. The lights were red, the marble floor black, and the walls red and gold with lacelike patterns. Plush sofas in the same color palette were scattered around the room.
A man waited for us in the entrance hall, and when he bowed to Ragnor and said, “Hello, Lord Rayne,” I knew he couldn’t be Lord Renaldi.
Ragnor nodded. “Hello, Stefan. Where is Manuel?”
Stefan must’ve heard the disapproval in Ragnor’s tone because he flinched. “I’ll take you to him. Follow me, please.”
Ragnor’s face contorted. He was pissed off. I could deduce why; in every other League, the Lord had greeted us. Here, Renaldi seemed disinclined to show Ragnor the same respect, and it evidently didn’t bode well.
All of us followed Stefan down the dimly lit corridor. Music drifted in from somewhere, the bass beats making the walls visibly vibrate, they were so loud.
Logan, walking at the front with Ragnor, whispered to him quietly. Ragnor barked something in return, making Logan grimace and stop talking. Abe, walking at the back, seemed alert, his eyes darting from wall to wall as if waiting for something or someone to jump out at us. The rest of us remained silent.
Since Ragnor, Logan, and Abe were on edge, we all were on edge. Zoey was clasping Jakob’s hand, her face white as a sheet. Tansy’s arms were wrapped around her. Cynthia clung to Bryce’s side, who didn’t seem happy with it but didn’t shake her off, either, as if he needed someone to lean on too.
The corridor ended at a single black door. Stefan turned the lock and pushed it open; music blared from inside. “Welcome to the Renaldi League,” the vampire said, smiling humorlessly.
When I stepped into the room, my heartbeat quickened at what I saw, heard, and smelled.
The room was full of veils and curtains, sofas and love seats, pillows, and various discarded garments. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, lit up by actual candles. There were candles scattered around the room as well.
A man was seated at the back of the room on what appeared to be a throne or a throne-shaped love seat. He looked as if he might have been a pro wrestler in his human life; his bare torso showed large, tight pecs covered by a huge tattoo of a Chinese dragon. He was tall, with arms and legs as thick as tree trunks and full of taut, toned muscles. His thick neck, square jaw, and face full of bristles and scars were just as overtly masculine as the rest of his body. The dangling earring of bones on his left ear didn’t manage to soften any of it; in fact, it only added to his threatening looks.
Then there were the women. An actual harem. Some of them were half-dressed while others were entirely naked. They surrounded the man’s seat, each of them doing different things. One was brushing the man’s long, smooth black hair, her large breasts jumping with every movement. Two were washing his feet. Another leaned over the throne’sarmrest, her left nipple being sucked by the man as he kneaded the other. And one woman knelt between his legs, sucking his dick.
The reactions in our group were varied. Some, like Zoey and Cynthia, looked away, appalled. Others, like Jakob and Bryce, stared at the show, fascinated, and possibly even a little horny. Then there was Tansy, who seemed to stare ahead with a face gone blank and eyes unseeing. Logan tried to look anywhere else, disgust and anger on his face; Abe simply turned his back on the show, and Ragnor, face a mask, was unreadable.
The hedonistic display was too much, that was for sure, but my eyes were on Ragnor. I wanted to see what was going to happen. I couldn’t care less if the man seated on the throne, who must be Lord Renaldi, was getting sucked off right in our faces.
When Ragnor stepped forward, heading toward Renaldi, the latter took his mouth off the woman’s breast and turned with a wide, wild, predatory grin to Ragnor. “Rayne! My friend!” he greeted, throwing his arms to the sides before returning to fist the brown hair of the woman blowing him, pulling her so hard she made choking sounds. That seemed to delight Renaldi, and he kept on making her choke on his dick until he suddenly thrust, his face tightening, as he reached climax, emptying himself inside the woman’s throat.
Then, using his hold on her hair, he threw her—actuallythrewher—to the side, making her cry out as she fell down. None of the other women seemed to care.
Ragnor came to a stop a few feet away. “Get down,” he said, and even though his face was a mask, his voice betrayed what he truly felt: not just disgust but absolute fury.
Renaldi grinned as he rose from his throne, his limp cock resting against his thigh. He grabbed a pair of white pants from somewhere and put them on as he walked toward Ragnor. “Ah, still a square, I see,” Renaldi murmured loud enough for us to hear as he stopped before Ragnor. Despite his tanklike figure and height, Ragnor was just an inch taller.
“It’s been ten years already since you became a Lord,” Ragnor said, looking down at Renaldi as though he was a problem child and not a huge man who seemed to have been in his late twenties at the moment of Imprinting, much like Ragnor. “It’s time you start taking your League seriously.”
“Hmmm,” Renaldi murmured and turned to face the rest of us. “Well. Since the square here wants me to take thisseriously,” he drawled, “then heya there. I’m Lord Manuel Renaldi, but you can call me Renaldi.” He glanced at Zoey, smirking when she blanched, before resting his gaze on me.
I tensed but returned his gaze.Look away,I pleaded silently.Just look away ...
Renaldi’s eyes flared, burning a sudden shade of gold. “What do we have here,” he said, not taking his gaze off me as he walked forward. It was as if he was looking into me, capturing glimpses of something I hadn’t even admitted to myself.
Ragnor’s hand shot to Renaldi’s shoulder and squeezed. “Take your depraved eyes off my fledglings,” he growled lowly, his eyes cobalt blue with anger.
“Or maybe this one in particular, Rayne?” Renaldi’s face split into a predatory grin while he kept his eyes on me, seemingly trying to uncover what I was desperately trying to conceal. Locked in place by his unrelenting stare and its surprising power over me, I found it hard to breathe. Ragnor stepped between us, body heat radiating from him.
