de Sang: Embrace Your Blood Lust (4 page)

Chapter Four

Like any other bar,
Luxure
had a predictable flow to the pattern of patrons. The early customers who came in were like Doc. Generally closet blood drinkers, or Sangs who worked normal jobs and had normal lives, they came in for a shot, or to get a little social time with other Vamps before returning to the mundane world. Evening hours were usually a lull, with the occasional customer coming in before work. Not surprisingly, many Vamps worked an evening or night shift. Toward ten, things started to pick up. The crowd would be a mix of casual Vampyres and more serious Sangs, and generally started really going from midnight to four. But Slade rarely saw a Tourist or casual Vamp in the bar before ten p.m.

Tonight was not the exception.

A couple stragglers came and went before Ash, a patron so regular his ass had made permanent indentions in the barstools, elbowed up to the bar and parked on a stool. Ash was a unique Community member. His mistress, Angel, was one of the more established Sangs. Her performance art transcended the Sang Community and she profited heavily from her vampire image. Her Cravings were also notoriously strong and Ash was one of her favorite meals.

"You know, I don't normally stick my nose into business it doesn't belong," Slade started after the standard greeting chit-chat was over, "but I've got to ask you something."

Ash took a drink of wine before answering, "Please. Be my guest."

"Are you and Angel lovers?"

 
"Not in the traditional sense."

Slade wasn't going to ask, but the odd response wouldn't let him ignore his curiosity. "There's a non-traditional sense?"

Ash smiled. "I service Angel any way she requires."

Slade felt his eyebrows shoot for the ceiling. "You...service her?" Laughter suddenly erupting in his throat, he held up his hands at Ash's fallen expression. "I'm sorry. I don't mean anything by it. Service just made me think of a car and then I thought about changing the oil, and well…"

"I'm honored to fulfill the needs of a Vampire like Angel, no matter what they are."

"Hey man, I'm not mad at you."

Ash took another sip of his wine. "Why the sudden interest in my relationship with Angel?"

Slade ran a hand over his hair. "Well, to be honest. My Craving is getting stronger and my Donor isn't up to par."

"I'd be happy to help you with your Craving, Slade, but Angel has me tapped out."

"What? No. Hey, I appreciate the offer but I'm not asking you to Donate. I'm looking more for a lover slash Donor."

Ash raised an eyebrow.

This was going downhill fast. "Er, I prefer my lovers sans penis."

Ash shrugged. "I don't discriminate."

Slade laughed. "Whatever floats you boat. It's just not my thing."

"Love is blind."

"There are some things I don't need to see to appreciate, or not appreciate, as the case may be."

"Mmm," Ash murmured, bouncing his eyebrows appreciatively.

Slade chuckled to himself. There wasn't much else he could say without encouraging the conversation, which he definitely did not want to do, so he turned his attention to restocking the napkin caddy.

When the stack of napkins was so high it was beginning to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Ash said, "So, Slade, have you thought about why your Craving has increased? Has something changed in your life?"

Slade stuffed the napkin package under the bar. "You aren't about to tell me my Chakra's out of whack, are you? You know how I feel about Vampirism-as-a-religion bullshit."

"I honestly don't understand why you're so resistant. There is more to Vampirism than blood or sex."

"I already have a religion and I'm not even sure how I feel about that one. I sure as hell don't need another dogma confusing my shit up."

"Enlightenment doesn't have to be confusing or complicated," Ash told him. "It's about balancing your energy."

"Are you going to suggest I do yoga now?"

"Actually…"
Oh shit, here it comes.
"You should stop by the studio."

Sometimes, Slade really needed to put a cap on his mouth.

Ash was not only Angel's Donor, they ran a yoga studio together, among other things, which apparently included Ash
servicing
her. The image of Ash on his knees before Angel as she painted her nails flashed through Slade's mind.

"Can you see me in Down Dog?" Slade wondered, shaking the image of Ash and Angel from his mind. Ash bounced his eyebrows again and Slade pretended to ignore it. It wasn't the first time he'd been hit on by another man. Hyper sexuality seemed to be a side-effect of the vampire lifestyle. Many in the Community weren't concerned with things like gender. Slade wasn't one of them, but he didn't give a shit who other people fucked and he certainly wasn't offended when another man found him attractive. He didn't encourage it though. "Dude, I can't even touch my toes."

"More reason for you to come by the studio. Balancing one's energy aside, a man who works out as much as you do needs to counter strength with flexibility. Besides, Angel is an amazing yogi."

"Angel's a damn contortionist. Trying to follow her in a yoga class does not sound like a fun time to me."

"Yoga isn't only about stretching."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Hmm." Ash took another sip of wine. "Uh-oh," he said suddenly, his head cocked toward the door. "Here comes trouble."

After Darus' visit, Slade wasn't sure he wanted to see what type of trouble Ash meant. He wasn't in the mood to kick anyone's ass. Blood consumption made him too mellow.

Luckily, it wouldn't be an issue. This type of trouble came in a hot package. Two fairly young women had entered the bar. One was tall, at least five feet eight inches, slender and gorgeous. Her perfectly pale, perfectly smooth skin was set off by a mass of red curls falling to her hips. She was wearing a short black dress showing off a gorgeous cherry blossom tattoo covering her right shoulder and upper arm, the branches and soft pink petals delicately twisting up her slim bicep. Her knee-high boots had almost as many buckles as her dress. She was exactly the type of trouble he'd love to get into.

The other one, wild-eyed and covered in metal, was the trouble to watch out for. Shorter but hot in different ways, she wore a micro mini with tattered fishnets and a corset displaying her assets to their fullest.

It wasn't Curvy's appearance alone that made Slade wary, it was the expression of wonder and lust she wore, and the old cutter scars decorating the insides of her arms. She had Victim written all over her.

"Ladies," he greeted.

Wearing a mischievous grin, the short one stepped up to the bar. "Do you really serve blood here?" she asked enthusiastically. Standing behind her, Red rolled her pale blue eyes.

"Not to you."

"Why not?"

"Members only." It was a change Armand enacted after the mess with Eve last year to help protect the bar and its patrons. Slade would prefer to make the entire place for members only, but he was fighting a losing battle with that argument. And since Armand's wife had only entered
Luxure
by accident, Slade was never going to win it now. After all, if the bar had only been open to members, Armand would have never met Julia.

Becoming a member gave one access to bagged blood from guaranteed safe Donors, the blood room, and Armand's services. Members could bring in outside Donors, provided they signed a liability release.

"I can get you a drink, though," he told the women. "Provided I see some IDs."

"Okay," Short-Stuff said defeated, handing him her ID.

"What can I get you to drink, Melanie?" he asked after looking the ID over.

"Shot of Jager and a whiskey & Coke. Oh, and it's Melancholy."

The name was a lot of syllables but if that's what she preferred, that's what he'd call her. "Okay. What about you, Red?" he called to the statuesque beauty standing elegantly behind Melancholy.

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped up to the bar, forcefully shoving her ID toward him. "Did you just call me
Red
?"

He grinned. He loved a feisty girl and this one looked ready to pounce on him. "I did. What would you prefer I call you?"

"Not Red, that's for damn sure."

"Well then," he glanced at the ID. "Kaitlyn Rose Miller, what do you go by?"

She snatched her ID back. "Kate."

"Just Kate?"

"Is that a problem?"

He poured Melancholy's drinks and slid them to her. "Not at all. Here, you're free to be whatever, or whoever, you desire." He smiled. "I'm Slade."

"Wonderful," she said dryly.

"Kate, can you start us a tab?" Melancholy asked. "I think I see someone I know." Fidgeting, she looked like she might burst if she had to stand there a moment longer and he didn't mean out of her corset, although it was a definite possibility too.

"Sure," Kate replied and Melancholy skittered off to join Hail — another of Angel's Donors — sitting in the back corner. Red pulled out a credit card and handed it to Slade. "I guess I'll take a single tall vodka press with a water back."

As he mixed the drinks, he watched her scan the bar from the corner of his eye. She seemed to take in every detail, and the more she absorbed, the more disappointed she looked.

"Whatever you're looking for, you're not going to find it out there," he said quietly.

Her blue eyes snapped back to him. The look of surprise quickly gave way to anger. "What the hell do you know about it? You're just some meathead bartender."

"I'm the real deal, baby." He slipped a couple of dark straws in each glass.

"Sure."

"And," he shrugged, "I've been doing this for ten years. I see your type in here all the time."

If she wasn't pissed off before, she was now. "What do you mean by 'my type'?"

"Well, for starters," he said, jutting his chin toward the corner where Melancholy was sitting. "Your friend over there is making googly eyes at Hail like he's some sort of vampire god, and you're looking at this place like it holds the secret to happiness or something."

Kate shot a quick glance toward her friend staring at Hail with the most awe-inspired expression and then settled her icy gaze back on him. She had the most beautiful eyes. It might be better if they weren't trying to chop him into little bits but whatever, they were still breathtaking.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said tightly. "And neither do you."

"Maybe." He gave the bar a quick wipe down with the black rag he kept nestled on the spillway. "Look, I just don't want to see you and your friend get hurt. Not everyone here is safe."

She grabbed her drinks. "Well, thanks for the advice." There was enough sarcasm in her tone to choke a cat.

He inclined his head and pretended to tip his hat. "Anytime ma'am." With amusement, he watched her join her friend in the corner, her footsteps heavy and angry. As she sat down, she glanced his direction and he gave her the biggest, shit-eating grin he could manage and the scowl crossing her pretty features nearly made him laugh out loud.

* * * *

Kate immediately regretted calling Slade a "meathead bartender" the moment the words slipped from her mouth. After all, who was she to talk? She was a waitress at what amounted to a glorified deli. The bartender might be a jackass but he didn't deserve to be insulted for his profession.

As she slid into the empty seat next to Melanie, she glanced toward the bar. Whatever empathy and regret she felt for her harsh words, the cocky grin on Slade's handsome, Italian face wiped it clean. There was no doubt in her mind he deserved the title
meathead
. Being called "Red" slipped a splinter under her skin that was only slightly less irritating than being called "Annie" or "freckle-face". They were all nicknames used to torment her throughout adolescence. That he pretended to
know
why she'd come to the bar only pushed the splinter deeper. Just because he wore red contacts, fangs and was covered in tattoos, he wasn't any different than the arrogant, asshole jocks her football playing brother called friends.

Kate forced a smile at Hail, tuning away from her thoughts and to the conversation at the table. Although they'd never been formally introduced, she recognized him from The Cell.

"So, is it true they serve blood here?" Melanie asked after Kate and Hail exchanged introductions. Her pierced face was bright and eager.

Hail's face scrunched into a kind of disgusted mirth. "They do."

"I take it you don't approve," Kate commented, taking a sip of her drink. It was a well-mixed cocktail. She could at least give
Slade
that.

"It's not that I don't approve, I just don't see the point. It's not like bagged blood could satisfy the desires of any
true
Sang."

"What's bagged blood?" Melanie wondered.

"It's donated blood. They keep it in a cooler in the back."