Dreams of Hell (The Protector Guild Book 3), page 19
“So,” I whispered, low enough for only our group to hear. “Who exactly are we looking for?”
The bar was a lot larger on the inside than it looked, with a fairly big crowd for so early in the night. Everyone looked so…human, laughing with friends, sitting on stools along the bar and at tables scattered haphazardly in the big dining area. There was rock music blaring softly throughout the space and the lights were dimmed low enough to create a cozy atmosphere, but not so low that you had to worry about unwelcome hands reaching for your drink. If Darius wasn’t the one that brought us here, I would assume this place was just like any bar I’d find in town or on TV.
The utter humanity of the place clawed at my insides as I tried to reconcile the guys laughing over a beer in one corner with the stone-cold killers we were used to hunting.
“Well I’ll be damned,” a loud, cheerful woman behind the bar yelled. “Darius? As I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see you stepping foot into my bar again.”
She had short, reddish-brown hair and small wrinkles along her eyes and mouth. They were the kind of wrinkles released by a long life of laughter and joy and I found myself instantly taking a liking to her. Her smiling lips were painted a deep ruddy red, almost identical to the shade of her long dress that swept over her curves like waves.
“Marge,” Darius said, and for the first time since I’d encountered him, I saw genuine warmth light up his features. The sight of it—pure joy—dancing in his unusual eyes took my breath away. All of a sudden, the creepy Hannibal Lecter vibe I was used to him rocking disappeared before my eyes. He was softer like this, more real somehow. “I had no idea you’d be back in this part of town.”
“Yeah well, you’re out of the loop, son. I’ve been back here for two years. Claude gave me my old job back.” Her jovial expression dried up a bit as she took in the rest of our group. “Where’ve you been boy? And who did you bring back with you? Last I heard, you were rotting away in the grasp of those damn protectors. How’d you get out?”
Darius glanced back at us, the corner of his lips curling down slightly. I could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to quickly come up with a logical explanation. Was he expecting to run into so many old friends, or did this compromise our plans?
“This one’s a werewolf,” He nodded briefly towards Atlas. “He was in captivity with me. We got the drop on one of the guards when we had the chance a few nights ago. And then we came this way as quickly as we could.”
Marge narrowed her eyes, studying the rest of us. “What’re the rest of ‘em? Can’t quite get a read, but they don’t smell human.”
I breathed in long and deep, trying to slow the rapid beat of my heart. Were we screwed over already? None of us really planned for this. Most creatures couldn’t sense species like this. What the hell was Marge?
Just when I thought Darius would throw us under the bus and use the moment as his opportunity to get us all killed, he simply shrugged.
“That one there,” he pointed towards Eli, “is half incubus, and the one next to him,” he nodded towards Declan, “Is his sister. Bit of a dud in terms of power, but he’s fond of her so we keep her around.”
Declan’s jaw tensed, her eyes glaring daggers into the back of Darius’s head. I bit back a grin. Just when I thought they were going to declare a truce with each other, Darius had to go and ruin it. These two were going to be the death of me, if Wade didn’t beat them to it.
“And what about the short one?” Marge wiped down a glass with a rag that looked ready to dirty up the cup again. “Something’s a bit off about her.” She flared her nose slightly, tilting her head in my direction as she crouched over the bar in our direction. “Smells funny.”
I resisted the urge to discreetly sniff my underarms, but just barely.
Darius’s arm swept across my shoulders, pulling me into him. I grunted with surprise but followed his lead. “She’s mine.”
Marge broke out into a giant smile, revealing a set of slightly crooked teeth that unexpectedly added to her appeal. “You’re shitting me? It’s finally happened? Ladies and gentlemen, Darius Dixon went and got himself domesticated. You find her in enemy terrain too? I hope you lot took down a solid number of ‘em during your escape. The less of those bastards in the world, the better.”
My chest started to tighten, and I looked sideways towards the door, secretly planning our escape if things went south. I wasn’t sure if Marge completely bought Darius’s story about us, but if she found out that we were protectors, we were as good as dead. This wasn’t the kind of place you made it out of alive if the inhabitants didn’t want you to.
The bar wasn’t entirely full, but there were well over three dozen people wandering around and seated at the bar and tables. Way too many for us to take on and remain unscathed. Especially since I wasn’t exactly feeling my best. I could probably only barely take on a large human right now, let alone a creature from hell.
Darius squeezed my shoulder sharply, an action that, surprisingly, grounded me. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by me being his. Was it typical for vamps to cart around their own human blood bags? Would I be expected to slit my wrist over his pint glass during our visit? My skin crawled at the thought of him consuming my blood.
He started nervously rocking, a movement so slight that I only noticed it because my side was glued to his. “Is he around, Marge? I need to talk to him, and I need to meet with Villette. Both as soon as possible.”
Marge’s brows bent down towards the middle, and I watched a silent conversation play out between her and Darius. He hadn’t told us anything about the people we were meeting tonight, so I had no idea what to expect.
“Lately, he’s been showing up around nine if he’s turning up at all. You sure he’ll be willing to see you? Villette is in the back corner with her newest companion.” Marge wrinkled her nose as she threw a dark look towards the other side of the bar. “She’s been in a bit of a mood lately, so good luck. Might want to butter her up with a few drinks first.”
I wasn’t sure who the ‘he’ was in this scenario, but it looked like we had some time to kill.
“Er,” I glanced between Darius and Marge, “so, drinks then I guess? I could use some social lubrication before meeting all of your friends.” I threw what I hoped to be a coy grin at Darius before leaning against the bar. “Care to make me something fruity and strong, Marge?”
Marge leaned forward and snorted, her large bust dropping on the counter like it was a shelf. She studied me for a moment, her deep eyes so dark that I could almost see the entire bar reflected in them, before slapping her hand down on the wood and reaching for a clean glass. Or, well, cleaner than the glass she was drying anyway.
“I like this one, Darius. Something tells me you’re going to have your work cut out for you. She’s not what she seems.” While she mixed me up something that looked like it had three different clear liquids and a concoction of juices, she turned to the rest of the group with an expectant look on her face.
Atlas flared his nose slightly, and I knew that he was warring with wanting to stay clear-minded in enemy territory and wanting to fit in. It took a lot to get a protector wasted though and I imagined it was even more for a werewolf. He ordered a round of beers for himself, Eli, and Declan.
“And you, darling?” Marge handed me my drink while nodding to Darius. “Your usual?”
He winked his golden eye at Marge in answer and I held my breath, half expecting his usual to be some sort of liquor mixed with blood or at the very least, a Bloody Mary.
But then she filled a glass up with vodka and orange juice. I casually brushed my fingers along my jaw, half expecting it to be hanging open. A screwdriver? That’s what the vampire ordered as his usual?
Without waiting for the rest of us, Darius took a long swig through the short black straw, his body relaxing and a genuine grin splitting his face. “I can’t even tell you how good it is to have one of these. It’s been ages.”
Declan snorted, mumbling something too quiet for me to follow, before draining a few sips of her beer. Like Atlas, she was slowly searching the place, cataloguing each individual and doorway. It wasn’t so much in the way they stood or stared, but I could almost feel their discomfort and rapt attention. They were in heavy mission-mode. Which meant they were even more uptight than usual.
And then there was Eli. He just seemed so much more amused with the situation, like he’d found himself in some unexpected, weird museum. I also didn’t miss the way he was studying a voluptuous girl standing outside the bathroom. Her dress was so tight it was practically painted on and she kept looking at him with bedroom eyes.
My stomach hardened at the sight of her, and I had to force myself to draw my eyes away from their silent flirtation. If anyone could draw information out of a stranger, it was Eli. So I had no reason to be so uncomfortable with his approach. He’d made it abundantly clear months ago that there was nothing between us—a sentiment I kept replaying over and over in my mind, lest I forget.
“My friends will stay here while I chat with Villy. Drinks are on them,” Darius said, before lacing his fingers through mine. “What’s she drinking these days?”
“Tequila.” Marge reached over the counter and clapped him on the back, like she was trying to offer comfort or encouragement. “But you aren’t exactly on her good side, my boy, so I recommend bringing her over a double. In fact, other than me, I’m not sure you’ve really got many friends at all around these parts.”
Darius cringed in response, his already pale skin draining the final vestiges of color. “Double it is.”
Chapter Nineteen
Max
If I had to describe the personification of sex, I would describe it as Villette. She had dark black hair, waved in a way I didn’t think anyone other than a Victoria’s Secret model could accomplish, with perfectly symmetrical features—bright blue eyes, impossibly plush, pouty lips, the whole works. I was half-convinced that she wasn’t real and was instead just a hologram of sorts or at the very least, wearing some sort of magical glamour. Not that I’d ever heard of such a thing.
And then there was the fact that she was dressed like she was getting ready to star in a pretty scandalous adult film. Her boobs were lifted and separated by a thick leather corset that looked uncomfortable as fuck, even though her posture was so relaxed that she might as well have been wearing a fuzzy robe.
I silently sent a thank you to whichever gods created leggings and t-shirts. Women’s fashion could be borderline sadistic sometimes, even if Villette could camouflage the pain somehow.
“Villette,” Darius drawled, stepping up to her corner booth, “long time no s—”
She threw her date’s beer into Dairus’s face before he could get a word in edgewise, her petite nose bunched up in disgust. I heard Declan cackle with laughter from back at the bar, and I tried to hide my own grin, even though a few splatters of the hoppy beverage splashed onto me as well.
“Sorry girl, that wasn’t meant for you,” Villette said, her voice so silky and sultry that it sounded like it was designed for the bedroom.
Her date stared wistfully at the last few dregs of beer still in his pint glass, his arm perched across Villette’s shoulder. While Villette was next-level-gorgeous, her date was no slouch. He had disheveled blond hair and bright blue eyes that most Hollywood actors would kill for.
Darius set the shot of tequila down on the wooden table and slid into the other side of the booth. Before I could protest, he pulled me down to sit next to him, my side pressed right against his.
“Villette, dear,” he said, grabbing the guy’s napkin to dry up his face, “that’s hardly a way to say hello to an old friend.”
Without a word, she pounded back the tequila, not breaking eye contact with Darius as the liquid slid down her throat. Her expression remained impassive, but I cringed for her—I couldn’t do tequila shots without a chaser of sorts—or, at the very least, a lime—much to Izzy’s chagrin.
Darius looked at me, then to Villette, and finally to her friend. “Well, this is cozy. I’ve always been a fan of double dates. How’ve you been Villy? How’s Mikey?”
Villette scoffed, handing her date the empty glass. “Jay, go get me a refill.” She jutted her chin towards Darius, her brows pinched, eyes cold as ice, “put it on his tab.”
Without a word, Jay left with his empty glass, no doubt pleased with the opportunity to refill his own drink and escape the tension clouding around us.
“See you have a new toy, you always did grow bored easily, Villette. It’s one of the things I liked most about our relationship. Never a dull moment.”
I choked on my fruity drink, trying to picture Darius with the girl across from me. It would explain the animosity in her eyes, at the very least. He drove everyone he met absolutely wild; I could only imagine that he accomplished it tenfold with the people he dated.
“Mikey is dead,” she whispered, sliding her glass from hand to hand, still not breaking eye contact—the sound of glass on wood making a soft whir. “You’d know that if you ever bothered to check in. I see you’ve found a new friend as well. What does Clarice think about that?”
So many names, I was having trouble keeping track of what the hell we were talking about here. Not that I was actually part of this conversation in the first place. Villette had barely even given me a passing glance. I was half ready to go join Jay at the bar and leave Darius to get eaten alive by this woman on his own.
I’d communicated with him enough to know that she was probably justified in the extreme derision she was floating his way. And I had no intention of sliding my lot in with his. He was a ticking time bomb, and I did not want to be around when that timer dropped to zero.
Darius cleared his throat, sliding his arm around my waist and drawing me just a touch closer to him. I tried to ignore the way the heat of his body filled me with a sense of peace, the way my body fit against his like a glove. I thought vampires were supposed to be all cold and clammy?
The way the muscles in his shoulders relaxed slightly as I settled against him had me wondering if maybe he was the one seeking heat and peace. I couldn’t read Darius very well—his mind didn’t seem to work in a particularly linear way—but he seemed unsettled here in this bar, even with the casual and teasing air he tried to assume. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was afraid of something.
What exactly was he getting all of us into?
“I couldn’t exactly check in, Villette. Unfortunately, when they take you prisoner and run experiments on you for years, they don’t exactly allot you a telephone call. Next time I’m there though, I’ll be sure to point that out in their suggestion box.”
“I wouldn’t have picked up even if they had,” she said, her lip turned up in disgust. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here with nothing more than a fucking shot of tequila, D.”
With a soft frown, his eyes dropped to the table. “I am sorry to hear about Mikey though, truly. He was a good man.” He arched a single brow, reinfusing his expression with playfulness and the chaotic energy I was more used to from him. “At least I had the sense to make it a double.”
I cleared my throat awkwardly, tempted to get up and leave but for the fact that we were here to help Wade. I didn’t want to interrupt their awkward trip down memory lane or anything—especially when they could both probably kill me before I had a chance to blink—but I wanted to get the information we needed before Darius killed every last strain of good will this woman had. If Declan’s reaction to him was anything to go by, he had a pretty good track record of quickly making beautiful women hate him.
Her electric-blue eyes homed in on me like a missile launcher and she tilted her head, studying me like a cat, her expression unreadable. “Who’s your new blood bag then? She’s not your usual type. Kind of plain and small, if I’m being honest.” She didn’t say it like she was trying to be cruel, still it obviously stung. “Now, the other bombshell you walked in with,” she craned her neck to watch Declan at the bar, her features lined with lust, “that one I could quite happily get on top of. Is she free? I would make her time worth it.”
“I need some information,” Darius said, his tone losing some of its earlier humor.
“Go get your information elsewhere, Darius,” she spun back around, pinning him with her glare. “I don’t do you any favors. Not anymore.”
He gripped his glass until I was certain it would explode in his hand, showering us all in another alcoholic beverage, this time with an unwanted layer of glass.
The silence drew out for a long moment, both of them stuck in a silent battle of willpower. Unsure of what else to do, I sipped the rest of my drink through my straw, desperate for the moment to end. Whatever Marge put into this thing, it was tasty. If we survived our conversation with Villette, I was going to ask her what it was called. Maybe even order another.
“I’ll owe you one,” he said finally, tossing the rest of his screwdriver back, as if it was a shot of whiskey and not the drink of choice for sorority girls at brunch.
That seemed rather nonspecific and not entirely worth the price, but Villette looked unexpectedly pleased with his concession.
Catching the gesture, she grinned, her eyes teasing. “Fucking child, you and your orange juice. You’d think after years of those assholes rattling your brain, they’d have accidentally knocked some taste into that little head of yours.” She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back so that her ample cleavage was on full display. Unexpectedly, Darius’s eyes stayed on her face. “Alright D, you’ve got yourself a deal. You’ll owe me one. In exchange, I’ll answer you one question.”
One question? That was it? How seriously were deals between supernaturals taken?
Darius looked like he wanted to reject the offer and I could almost feel him lifting out of the chair, ready to go back to Declan and the guys and call it a day with nothing but a shrug and an “I tried.”
