Page 104 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
“What happens at ten?” I ask after ordering a regular gimlet—no blood for me.
Evelyn leans her elbows on the table and places her chin on her hands. “It’s a surprise, lovey. Don’t ruin it. Drink, stare, touch if you like, and wait for the clock to strike ten.”
A few gimlets in, I lean against Alissa and wrap my arms around her neck, loving how thoroughly drunk I am and how I don’t feel the least bit scared or worried. She pats my arm and giggles. The blood cocktails were laced with wolf’s bane. The poison might kill a wolf but all it does to a vampire is make them buzzed.
“Are you having fun?” She sways back and forth in her seat, rocking me with her.
Evelyn is chatting up one of the models who is done, running her hand up his taut stomach.
“Yes, this is the strangest club I’ve ever been to—” I stop short and gasp when Evelyn sinks her fangs into the model’s wrist. He groans and digs his fingers into her hair.
I point at her. “Like I said, thestrangestclub I’ve ever been to, but I’m having fun.”
Alissa’s forehead wrinkles in concern, and she shoots me a weary look. “You’re not bothered by this?” She waves her hand around, gesturing to the entire club.
Taking a full moment to really see what’s happening, I try to get in touch with my emotions. There are several vampires feeding from humans—men and women—and new feeders come out of a door to the left of the stage every so often, while the ones that have been used are escorted back on the arm of a serious looking vampire.
There are a few humans who aren’t feeders, but they’re obviously pets. They sit in their master’s lap, drinking from their jugular, tipping their heads to the side when they’re done so the vampires can drink as well.
The distinct differences between the blood whores and the pets are that the pets get to feed from the vampires, and the feeders usually only have blood taken from their wrists.
The feeders zone out, almost like junkies, and have to be carted out of the room. The pets get the same sort of daze while their masters are feeding, but then they’re full of energy, amped up on the supe blood.
I’m not sure if these are hard and fast indications, but it’s the most noticeable difference as far as I can tell.
Does any of this bother me?
Surprisingly, not really. The feeders—or blood whores if you want to be slanderous—are more than willing to offer their blood. None have screamed or cried for help, so I’m not bothered by them being used.
Clearly, they chose this life.
Part of me is glad they’re here by choice, no matter how wrong I think it is, because it means Mateo isn’t forcing humans into it.
“No, not really.” I can’t say I’m entirely undisturbed by everything. I did grow up carefully tucked away from this culture, so seeing it up close and personal is still a shock to my system.
Evelyn detaches from the model, patting his abs and shooing him away. “It’s two till ten,” she says in a sing-song voice.
He winks at her and swaggers away as the rest of the models from before spill onto the stage.
The music stops for just a second, then a familiar song blares through the club and the men start to dance.
I groan. “Vampire Magic Mike?”
Alissa laughs, and Evelyn frowns at me. “You don’t like dicks?”
Wrinkling my brow, I shake my head. “Of course I do, but when they’re just flopping around in the air, I’m not sure I enjoy it.”
She narrows her eyes. “There’s no flopping in my show.” Gripping my chin in her hand, she jerks my face toward the stage.
“Oh.” The word escapes my lips before I can stop it.
Evelyn’s tinkling laughter isn’t enough to distract me from a stage full of ripped vampires who are all hung like goddamn horses. A few cheeky men on stage stroke their hard cocks.
I swallow and drink my water.
Holy hot.
Alissa laughs. “See, this is why we wait for Mateo to leave.”
