Beneath a Blood Moon (7 page)

No one would believe it.

No one would believe I had joined forces with a wolf in order to survive being eaten alive. Under the light of a blood moon, I had ripped my best friend to pieces before turning on Rory.

My wolf’s rage at Rory’s betrayal had consumed her, and she had delighted in his death. Wolves didn’t play with their prey, but she had enjoyed mauling his corpse and soaking her paws in his blood.

In yet another fit of rebellion, my stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, shuddering at the memory of their blood in my mouth. My wolf wasn’t very impressed with me, but her disapproval of the countless times I had vomited since the full moon was a far better than her lust.

If I didn’t want to end up as yet another prostitute in Vegas with countless STDs, I needed to convince my wolf she had to curb her instincts. Maybe I could at least persuade her to have higher standards.

Just any male, wolf or human, wasn’t good enough for me.

The heat of her desire ebbed, and for the first time since we had started sharing my body, she relented. Giddy with relief, I showered away the sweat and basked in the chill of my apartment. I went so far as to stand in front of the air conditioner until my teeth chattered.

With the clock ticking away and ten minutes left before I was late for my first day back at the club, I hurried to get dressed, wearing my red lace lingerie beneath my black vinyl bodysuit. I’d broil on the way to work, but men liked me sweaty with my skin glistening under the club’s hot lights. They especially liked the way I had to squirm and wiggle to escape the smothering confines of my suit, which clung to my every curve.

Maybe the extra effort would earn me better tips. I needed them.

The wolf didn’t understand why I wanted to attract males without mating with them. She didn’t understand the concept of money, either.

“I like men with dark hair,” I informed her in a hissed whisper, binding my blond and blue hair up in a messy bun. “Taller than me. Gentle hands. None of this blond-haired, blue-eyed beach boy bullshit.” Rory had ensured I’d never want another blond-haired man ever again. “No gym groupies—I don’t like feeling helpless in bed with a guy who can break me in half with his hands. Don’t even
think
of looking at any sleaze bags. Suits, wolf. If you’re going to try to get me in bed with some man, at least have some standards. No druggies, no gang members, no scum buckets. Got me? So help me, I’ll drown us both if you put me in bed with an abuser because all you can think about is sex. If you’re going to turn me into a brainless slut, you better pick men who can pay well, unless you
want
to starve.”

With her main priorities being sex and food, if I didn’t make some effort to take control of her, we really would starve. Before she had come around, I had been mostly vegetarian, sticking to the occasional plate of scrambled eggs, fish, and bacon for special occasions—or when I was feeling really, really rich. I had consumed more meat in the past three days than I had in three years
.
I wanted to curl up in bed, hide under the covers, and cry. At the rate I was eating, I’d devour more food by the end of the week than I had in a year.

To make matters worse, she was hungry again. At least she had the decency to feel sheepish and apologetic about it. I sighed. “If you lay off a bit and don’t try to force me to sleep with someone tonight, I’ll take you to a buffet.”

An all-you-can-eat place might be able to handle her appetite—maybe.

While Las Vegas in the late fall was far cooler than during the summer, I was soaked in sweat by the time I reached the club. My wolf, at least, wasn’t challenging my criteria for eligible men, although I had the feeling they confused her.

If I didn’t want to end up sleeping with a loser, I’d have to teach her the difference between assholes and men worth pursuing. She approved of my thoughts, her presence warm and soothing.

I made it all the way to the dressing room without her trying to force me into bed with anyone. Letting out a relieved sigh, I braced myself for a torrent of questions.

My fellow strippers didn’t disappoint, and they descended on me like a pack of chattering, giggling hyenas. Danny pulled my coat off, tossing it to one of the other girls. “Damn, woman, you’re going for gold tonight. What kept you out? It’s been busy. Damned convention next door—we sure as hell could’ve used you or Slink yesterday on the pole.”

Isabella wasn’t ever coming back. Before my guilt could once again take hold, my wolf’s satisfaction smothered it. If she hadn’t attacked us, she wouldn’t have died.

It was a wolf’s logic, but I couldn’t argue with her because it was true. I sighed.

“Stomach bug,” I lied, although there was some truth to my admission. Turning into a werewolf likely wouldn’t fly as an excuse, and I had been throwing up ever since the full moon. Examining myself in the mirror, I adjusted my front zipper so none of my cleavage was showing. “I doubt you would’ve liked me puking all over the stage. What did I miss?”

“Packed house, a fight, and some of the hottest VIPs I’ve seen in ages are here tonight, so you better stay until at least eleven, girl. Rumor has it they’ll be taking girls home with them, too—and paying a pretty penny for the privilege; higher than the usual rate. They’re coming through the dressing room sometime after ten. Peach says they’re into blonds. She’s seen them around the past few nights.”

I looked around for the red-head, frowning when I didn’t see her among the other strippers. “Where is Peach?”

“She’s coming in after nine. Think you’ll stay for the eleven shift?”

Eleven was well after most of the buffets closed for the night, and if she was right, I’d likely end up serving some man as a prostitute. I sighed. “I was scheduled in until eight, Danny.”

“I’ll run up to the boss and tell him you’re in your vinyl tonight. We’ll figure something out. Worse case, we’ll take turns sitting rounds. Vinyl means we all get better tips, girl.” Danny grinned at me, blew me a kiss, and sashayed her way through the other girls getting ready. I didn’t know most of them, which didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

The boss gave almost all girls a try, but most didn’t make the cut. I grumbled, going over each of my buckles to make sure they would be easy enough to unfasten. Fumbling with buckles tended to be a turn off for the audience.

Danny and Patricia would prove the high earners, probably with me as a close third, although I had a chance to take the top spot in my vinyl. We’d be expected to carry the show while the newbies flounced around and attempted to strut their stuff. The boss would look the other way when they solicited the departing clients, never to be seen again—or at least not for a few months.

“Hey, Patricia,” I called, bouncing my hip against one of the new girls to make space at the vanity and mirrors. “Can you snag my heels?”

“Sure thing, Jasmine. Which pair?”

“Whatever you think fits the mood.” I had to jump to reach my makeup bag hanging from the hook above the mirror. “Sparkle or matte?”

“Because glitter goes oh-so-well with vinyl. Should be fun; you’ll stand out even more. We’ve been in feathers all day, and the boss says we’ll stay in feathers until he tells us otherwise.”

“Feathers? Seriously?” I grumbled, wondering if I’d even get to wear the vinyl out. “Glue some to my ass. I didn’t get a feathers-only memo, Patty.”

I also hadn’t checked my answering machine in fear of what sort of messages would be waiting for me. At least girls coming and going wasn’t exactly new to the clubs. Missing shifts wasn’t like me, but once news spread I had come down with a stomach bug, no one would think twice about it.

So long as I kept my mouth shut and my head down, no one would even think to ask me if I knew where Isabella was. I’d be able to say with some honesty I wasn’t sure; the desert was a big place, and I doubted I could find the cabin again even if I wanted to.

“Now this’ll be interesting. I bet we could rig something if the boss says you need some feathers.” Patricia tossed me my black stilettos. “Gold and blue glitter to go with your hair.”

The other girls gawked at us, and I ignored them, pulling out my glitter gloss and eyeshadow. I didn’t use much, just enough to add a bit of shine to my lids and lips. My wolf was puzzled by my preparations, and she simply observed, retreating until I was barely aware of her. “At least I’m not late. Almost was,” I muttered, shoving my makeup back in my bag before hanging it back on its hook.

“You still got twenty before your first scheduled run,” Patricia soothed, offering me a sheet of paper. “Enough time to rig up some feathers for that tight rump of yours.”

I twisted around and slapped her bare asscheek. “Keep it up, girl, and I’ll leave a handprint.”

“Oh, do it. That’ll be hot, and I’m on in five.”

Laughing, I did as she asked, shaking out my stinging palm afterwards. “The things I do for you.”

Danny slid down the metal handrail from the upstairs office, landing with a thunk of her heels. “Boss gave the approval to fit you in for the extra hours. Unfortunately, you’re to figure out a way to add feathers. The VIP specials requested feathers, sorry. Have your headdress with you?”

“I’m featherless,” I grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me we were showgirling tonight?”

“We’ll glue some strays to your ass and straps. It’ll be a hit,” Patricia said, grabbing one of the all-purpose feather headdresses from the rack. “This piece of shit needs to be retired anyway. We’ll pillage it. I have to get ready to dance. Can you help her, Danny?”

“Sure. I’m on after you, Jasmine, so rile them up for me. Boss says you’re to take twenty minutes, and we’ll be shifting the schedule.”

“Twenty?” I blurted. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”

“It gets better. He wants your twenty without you doing more than popping some cleavage. Have fun.”

I groaned. On a normal night, we did five to ten minute runs spaced out with breaks between to give the illusion more girls worked the club than actually did. A ten-minute pole dance under the club’s bright lights was tough enough, but by the time I finished twenty, I’d be soaked in sweat, gasping like a fish out of water, and ready to cry for mercy.

The only good thing about such a long shift would be the tips—and the chance to earn favor with Danny for priming the pumps of all of the men wanting to see more than shiny vinyl.

“I hope you’re going to tip me,” I muttered, grabbing the feather headdress and ripping out several of the large plumes. At least they matched my blue tips. “Tell me it gets better.”

“You wish. You’re going to have to hold off for the reveal for the VIPs. It’s a private party after ten, and you won’t strip until the last act. Boss says he hopes you’re wearing nice panties, because you’re not taking them off, either.”

“What kind of stripper doesn’t strip?” I demanded, ripping out a few more feathers from the old headdress. “I’m going to asphyxiate before eight. I’ll be dead by eleven, Danny.”

“Take it for the team,” she replied, smirking. “Make me a fortune tonight, and I’ll tip you really well.”

“Way to be a team player. That’s right. Throw me under the bus. I’ll remember that the next time you’re roped into a shit shift.”

“Shit shift, but a profitable shit shift,” Danny pointed out, slapping my ass before grabbing a handful of feathers. “Now stand still and let me work.”

I obeyed, bracing my palms against the vanity while wiggling my feet into my stilettos. “I really will die if I don’t get out of the vinyl between acts,” I warned her.

“You’re only scheduled in for one act an hour to make up for it. You’ll have time to air out a bit between shows. You can help the new girls get their acts together between your runs. You’ll be flying solo during your set, and I’ll be paired off with a new girl for mine. I’m in four fives each hour.” Danny grabbed a blue feather boa, snagged a pair of scissors, and cut it into several pieces. “Feather cuffs. I’ll try not to get too much glue on your suit. Keep your feet still a second.”

“Feathers and vinyl is going to look ridiculous,” I complained. “Especially bright blue feathers.”

“I don’t think the men will care about the feathers. They’ll be too busy drooling over your tits and ass. Seriously, girl. Shred some feathers off the boa and toss them out as souvenirs. They’ll love it.”

Many men would; people loved freebies from Vegas, especially when they came from a stripper. “Give me some of the small ones.”

She handed me the ravaged headdress.

I went to work stripping off feathers, unzipped my suit enough to stuff a handful into my cleavage, and zipped back up. “There, they’ll be too wet from sweat to pop out, but close enough.”

“Since when were you this kinky, girl? Damn, that’s going to be hot.”

She wouldn’t believe me if I told her the truth, so I shrugged. “About the time you promised me a tip if I riled them up for you, Danny.”

She laughed, giving me a pinch. “Point taken. You’re going to shed half these feathers working the pole, but hey, Boss said you had to have feathers, not that you had to keep them on. We’ll pillage more from the shit headdresses between your acts. It’ll serve him right.”