The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight (20 page)

Read The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight Online

Authors: Lynne Connolly

Tags: #Paranormal; Supernatural; Shifter; Vampire

BOOK: The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight
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“You moving in here.”

Laughing, she gave a little jump. She curled her legs around him just above his buttocks, her pussy hovering above his cock. “And getting rid of pesky condoms.”

“That too. A necessity for most, but not in our case. Except for three days a month.”

“When’s the next time?”

He didn’t have to consult a calendar. A Talent knew the phases of the moon instinctively. “Ten days. You’ll just have to stick around to find out when it happens.”

She didn’t seem depressed at the thought.

Poised at her entrance, he took a moment to savor her heat and the way her slick juices bathed him in welcome, inviting him in. He loved her cunt. He could spend the rest of his life worshipping it.

The notion gave him pause, but not much of one. Not the place, and sure as fuck not the time. He watched his shaft disappear inside her body as she lowered herself onto him. Her cunt enclosed him, wrapped him in a carnal kiss, and he was lost, as if they hadn’t done anything for days.

He was beginning to doubt that he’d ever get enough of her, which was a strange thing, considering his convictions. But maybe his body knew best.

Too happy to question, he thrust into her, closing his eyes for a moment at the sheer joy of entering her. Hot water rained on them, the gentle spray like a blessing from heaven itself.

When he cracked open his eyes once more, what struck him first was how beautiful she appeared. No shadows marred her features, and no deep secrets. He’d make it right for her, somehow. She was a phenomenal dancer, and he’d only just begun to unlock her inherent sensuality and her ability to improvise.

She shimmied, and his cock contacted every part of her pussy, all the way around. He gasped as red-hot needles of arousal teased his spine. He squirmed, but that made the situation worse. Or better. Better, for sure. He moved again, and this time she rotated her hips.

“Have you tried belly dancing?” he asked.

With a teasing smile, she gazed into his eyes. “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

And the little witch locked the information away. He loved this part of her, and an overwhelming pleasure joined the tingles. He worked to get as much of him into as much of her. “You need to do this on stage.”

“This?” She shimmied again, and he groaned.

“Maybe. Except I’m not rehearsing you doing this with…Steve.” He groaned again, fighting back the growing impulse to come. “You do this with me and me alone. Clear?”

“I think so. Maybe.” Another squirm, and then she lifted and slammed down onto him. No warning accompanied her actions. She was working on instinct alone.

His head went back and he yelled, shockwaves rippling through him. His hands tightened on her hips. He never wanted to let go.

He wasn’t even sure if he came or not, just that the reaction was extreme, as exquisite as an orgasm.
She must come
. She had to come. Desperation filled him, and he reluctantly released one hip to slide his hand over her smooth, flat stomach and to her clit. He worked his thumb between them, grazing the little nub until she bit her lower lip. But she didn’t stop moving, riding him hard, her calves gripping his thighs to give her purchase as she fucked him, and he responded.

Unbelievably the thrills continued, working to drive him out of his mind. Her eyes sparkled, and he felt the heat of her impending orgasm. By contacting that urge inside her and manipulating her clit, he could tell when she was close and what she liked. A small pinch worked well, and she enjoyed it when he held his thumb beneath her clit so that every time their bodies slammed together, he grazed the sensitive nerves, sending an extra shot of sensation through her.

When her expression grew wilder, he bucked harder, forcing her to ride at a gallop. They watched each other, something he’d have found uncomfortably intimate with another person. With Kristen, it had become a necessity.

Mindless, she cried his name, and he worked her, fucked her until her cunt clenched around him over and over. He counted. Six, then seven, one so tight she held him in a grip he wouldn’t have gotten out of had he tried. Not that he wanted to.

He laughed as she came, the sound abruptly cut off when his balls contracted, pumping semen up his cock and deep into her body.

Had he come twice? Or once with a break.

He was damned if he knew. He cared even less because it was the ride of his life.

Chapter Ten

Back at the club, on the day of Kristen’s debut, Nathan and Vella had a quiet moment while the bar staff settled into place and the bouncers came on duty. A well-oiled machine. Something in Vella’s eyes told her he wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him.

“One of the staff wants to talk to you,” she said.

His mind immediately went to Kristen, but he’d seen her an hour before. He had only left her alone because she’d asked him to, to stretch and put her mind into a more tranquil place than she could ever achieve when he was around. Or so she informed him.

Taking it as a compliment, he’d chuckled, kissed her, and left, reminding her to keep hydrated because, when the club was open, they kept it hot. The dancers didn’t want to get chills.

As if he’d conjured them up, a trio of dancers strolled across the floor toward the gleaming silver rods by the side of the stage. He’d doubted having the things installed. Pole dancing had had its day, but these three, triplets no less, could work them as an act and coordinated with each other as they danced. They used the poles as accessories, not as essentials, and he had seen the merits and enjoyed them.

They wore miniscule white bikinis and above-the-knee, lace-up, open-toed boots, which was the only item that they wouldn’t remove. Nathan left it up to them how much they took off, only admonishing them to be as tasteful as they could. It had to be sexy and erotic, rather than obscene. The women who came here didn’t want vaginas in their faces; neither did they want their boyfriends licking another woman while they watched. Well, some of them, anyhow. The ones that did would have to go elsewhere.

Nathan took his time removing his attention from the floor below to where Vella waited, and only when she tapped her foot against the hard floor. He sighed. “What does the girl want? More money, or has she hurt herself?”

“Neither,” Vella said. Her expression made him pause and pay her more attention. This was more important than a wage raise. “But this afternoon she finally came to see me. She’d heard you’d gone to the club down the street. She’s concerned that they’re chasing her.”

Now she had his full attention. Turning his back on the view, he leaned against the thick glass window. “Talk to me.”

“I was.” She stared at him until he folded his arms. “What is wrong with you?” she asked with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been dreaming ever since Wednesday. Since that visit. Are you listening now?”

He nodded.

“It’s Diana. She’s a vampire.”

Shocked, he tried to recall what he knew about the girl. Precious little, except she was from Wisconsin and she was working behind the bar until he opened auditions again. She’d taken ballet classes and ballroom, so she was versatile, but she didn’t have Kristen’s spark, the edge that would make his lover a star. “I never realized.”

“She’s young, not used to opening up. She came to Chicago to get some experience. Well, that was what she told me until yesterday.”

“If you knew she was a Talent, you should have told me.”

Vella shrugged, her crisp blouse hardly moving it was so well starched. “I thought you knew. It didn’t affect her work, not until recently.”

He made a beckoning motion with three fingers. “Tell her to come and tell me herself.”

Diana Garfield was a petite, curvy blonde, the kind of woman Nathan might have found attractive until he met Kristen. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and her skin was pale, her blue eyes stark in her face.

So Nathan’s first question was, “Have you fed?”

She nodded, her tightly bound ponytail bouncing with the jerky movement. “Last night.”

“Then do it again tonight.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“Take a mouthful from a customer. Plenty of those like the dancers to get up close and personal. As long as you stick to house rules, you’re fine. Now tell me what your problem is.” Vampires didn’t kill when they took the sustenance they needed. They only needed a little blood, although that amount was absolutely necessary to their well-being.

She clasped her hands, the shiny red lacquer gleaming in the lights. Twisting her fingers together, she began to speak in a breathless tone. “I came from Wisconsin, not because I wanted to broaden my horizons but because they were chasing me.”

“Who were?” he prompted when she stopped abruptly and started to bite her lip again.

“The PHR. At least, I think so. Two of them, and probably more. My parents moved too, but they said they’d be in touch in six months. I know where they are, and I spoke to them last night. They’ve not been followed. The PHR men were teachers at my school.”

“How old are you?” he interrupted. “For real.”

“Twenty-one.”

Nathan sucked in a breath sharply. A real twenty-one-year-old was vulnerable and precious to the community. Her parents wouldn’t have sent her alone. “Who’s looking after you?”

She frowned. “Nobody.”

“Don’t give me that shit. Who’s keeping an eye on you?”

“I don’t know. Truly I don’t. My parents said they’d send somebody, but so far I haven’t seen anyone. I’m on my own. But they told me about this place and said Talents ran it, so I came here. I don’t strip; I serve drinks.”

She wasn’t wearing the satin corset outfit he gave his female bar staff, but maybe Vella had told her not to dress tonight. Vaguely, he recalled Diana from Kristen’s audition. Not quite there, but interesting, had potential.

He glanced at his admin manager, and she nodded. “I didn’t know she was a Talent until she came to me.”

It wasn’t necessary for anyone to know, and she’d probably feel safer hiding her Talent from everyone. Not all Talents were on the same side, sadly.

Diana was pretty and willing, and she’d do well for tips. “How do you know they’re after you?”

“Last night somebody saw me. I felt it, the way he tried to slice into my head. It was clumsy, but I’ve hidden my mental sigil, so it’s not obvious I’m a Talent. But he noticed something.”

Nathan’s mouth tightened. Shielding wasn’t as easy as some people made out. “Did he see you in the club?”

“Yes, but he didn’t stay long. I followed him, but only as far as the club entrance. Smokey asked me if something was wrong, but I said no. Is he…?”

She couldn’t even pick out a Talent or make herself known. Nathan shuddered. To his kind, Diana was little more than a girl. What were her parents thinking? He shot another glance at Vella, who nodded. They’d act as guardians until her minder showed up. If they showed up. A nasty suspicion crept over him. “He went into Vampire Heaven, this man, didn’t he?”

Diana nodded and folded her arms, clasping her forearms, as if she was cold.

“A friend of mine suspects a PHR cell is based there,” he said. “After some recent events, I’m certain of it. What happened to you?” He didn’t have to enter her mind to see her turmoil.

She wet her lips and gave Vella a nervous glance.

Vella took up the story. “Someone called earlier today and said he was Diana’s boyfriend. I put out a page for her because I didn’t know any better, but when she arrived, she burst into tears. I got her to take the call, and I listened in. It was someone from Vampire Heaven, and he warned her they knew who she was and they were coming after her.

“What will you do?” Vella asked. She stood protectively a step in front of the girl in an unconsciously sheltering gesture.

He decided on discretion. “I’m taking her out of here to another stage on the Thorndyke network. But not tonight.” Tonight belonged to Kristen.

* * * *

In the tiny dressing room she shared with two other featured dancers, Kristen tried to quell her nerves and failed. She couldn’t remember being this nervous before. Not ever, not even when she’d appeared with prestigious companies. It had only happened once. But she’d never been a star before.

Fuck that
. Tonight she was
the
star.

She lifted her eyeliner brush, then lowered her hand to change her position. Resting her elbow on the cluttered space before her, she leaned forward and steadied the brush. Only then could she stop the shaking long enough to get the line straight.

She’d gone for simple and understated but emphasized her lips with poppy red. That took some applying too. Her hair was down, set on big rollers to tumble over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was red too… What there was of it. Cunning fastenings made it easy for Steve to rip it off when the time came, leaving her in her underwear.

They were doing two dances—the waltz and a steamy Argentinian tango, the dance that was so daring Kristen didn’t know if she could go through with it. If she chickened out of revealing her breasts, she could tell Steve and he’d leave her in her bra. Steve was baring all but his genitalia. He had good glutes and should attract some attention from the women who came tonight.

But she was drawing the crowds. The woman sitting next to her, Betty, had told her that. Betty was the blackest woman Kristen had ever met. Her skin gleamed with ebony beauty. She usually performed a ballet parody, losing the frilly skirt and the top, ending in thong and pointe shoes.

“You’ll be a star if you don’t fuck it up,” Betty said complacently. “When I come on, I’m going to use the pose in the first poster, the Dying Swan one. Then the lights will go up, and they’ll see me for what I am.”

She laughed raucously, the sound at odds with her delicately refined appearance. Betty was already a star, and Nathan rotated her between his clubs. Another failed ballet dancer, as she’d told Kristen. “Too many pretty white girls, although that’s changing now, thank the Lord. About fucking time.” She flicked the mascara wand at her abundant false eyelashes, bushy and outrageously curled. Kristen used smaller ones, but that wasn’t saying much. It had taken her four tries to get them in place, when she could usually apply them in seconds.

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