Hell's Belle (21 page)

She purred then crooked her finger. He followed as they made their way past a vamp woman tied with leather straps to an X. Another woman, part Fae, whipped her with a cat-of-nine-tails then fondled her bare breasts. The ball in the tied woman’s mouth barely muffled her cries of pleasure. This was why he came to Lady D’s. Vamps thrived on sex and blood. But Carlisle needed pain, too, and this was the place to find all three. Anything went here—as long as no one died. And he’d heard that rule could be broken if enough money changed hands. There was good reason why such a popular club was in an isolated section of the backwoods.

They passed more couples engaging in all manner of activities. Some were hetero, others same-sex, and some were of the magical variety where their sex was indistinguishable. A witch in a sex swing moaned as she was penetrated from both sides by two bulky male Weres. As Carlisle realized their destination, his blood—what little flowed in his veins—headed south. The extensive one-floor House had three public sections: Bar, Dance Club, and BDSM zone. Newer players warmed up in the first two before making their way to the third.

They were headed to a fourth, private area. He’d used the VIP section only once. It was usually for the more messy players. Carlisle didn’t hesitate. The tight, leather-encased ass swaying in front of him was worth making a mess. She stopped at the giant bouncer and ran the handle of her whip down his chest before handing him something. The red rope was pulled back. She stepped into a dark hall, turned, and again crooked her finger.

Carlisle stepped into the darkness behind her. Nothing out there could compare to the pleasure he was about to experience with this vixen.

The club’s heavy music dimmed, but there was music of another kind. The constant sounds of heavy, nearly violent fucking came from behind every black door they passed. The steady slap, slap…the wet slurp, slurp…the rich moans and groans…all were a sensual symphony to his ears. Added to this was the ripe smell of sex, strong like he’d just shoved his nose right between a woman’s wet lower lips. He licked his own lips in anticipation. Maybe after he was done playing her bitch boy, he’d show her exactly where a vamp’s fangs could go. It was enough to bring any warm-blooded male to his knees. Thankfully, he was cold-blooded and able to muster the strength to carry on.

He followed the
click
,
click
of her heels and the scent of woman in heat into the hall’s last room. She began a slow tease of undressing him, starting with his silk tie and ending with his Italian designer boxers. She laid his thousand dollar suit carefully over a chair, but he didn’t notice. She could have put it in a shredder for all he cared. He was in such a sensual haze that he barely registered the feel of rubber sheets against his back as she pushed him onto the bed.

In anticipation of sex, he’d fed well before coming to the club. His only concern now was the demanding pain in his groin. He didn’t notice the magically reinforced titanium manacles being attached to his ankles and wrists. As he watched her in the room’s mirrored ceiling, he had his first moment of unease. Claws that looked much too sharp extended from each fingertip. Even so, he didn’t realize his mistake until she cupped his tight balls and those claws pricked him as she purred, “Now, tell me about Nicodemus.”

Chapter Twelve

“In the South, a story never starts where it should. Ask a man why he killed his neighbor, and he might start by saying, ‘Well, I had Cream of Wheat for breakfast then put on my favorite flannel shirt…’ An hour later, he’ll get to the point. This is why you never ask a Southern man why he doesn’t love you. The answer usually starts when he was five and continues on through every previous love.”

—Becca Hartford

“Exactly why are we here when I shouldn’t be seen with you two?” Fera asked, half-amused, half-irritated. She lounged beside Jacq on a white leather sofa similar to the one I occupied. Jacq, her usual masked expression in place, sat with arms crossed. I sensed her anger but couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or Fera, whose feet were sprawled in Jacq’s lap. Though I didn’t appreciate Fera’s relaxed pose, I was glad she hadn’t chosen to lounge in the big white bed with gray satin sheets against the far wall.

“We’re waiting,” I answered. While my eyes stayed fixed on the floor, my thoughts returned to Jacq. If I’d been feeling anything, I might’ve been concerned at her distance. I might’ve been saddened to think she could be angry with me. But I was neither. Just like the mask on my own face, I was empty and cold inside.

Even though I’d gotten up early, Aunt Helena had slept in, so I hadn’t confronted her until after breakfast. That meal had been so difficult I’d wanted desperately to go back to sleep. Not only had I gone to bed very late, but my sleep had been plagued with restless dreams ranging from the erotic to the horrifying. Then I had to sit across the table from Jacq, who’d stayed to eat with us. She had smiled the entire time. I’d tried to smile back, unsure how to act—unsure of what I’d seen in those photos. Those uncertainties had made me want to overreact. To avoid this I’d gone into professional mode. I’d given Jacq specific instructions about meeting me here tonight with Fera. Then I’d asked her, politely, to leave. I’d desperately needed some time to myself and time to speak with my aunt, but I’d given Jacq other less personal reasons—like the fact that I had calls to return. And surely she had things to do, too. I couldn’t expect her to be attached to my hip twenty-four-seven.

At first, the obstinate woman wouldn’t leave, arguing that there was still a third hound lurking around. Jacq had spotted its tracks repeatedly circling the house’s wards and had presented two very tattered Mr. Bunny slippers as proof. They’d apparently been left at the entrance to the back gardens. I’d almost forgotten about that pesky urinating mutt. For some reason, thoughts of that demon hound didn’t worry me, especially after seeing that it had returned my slippers. Just my luck, I’d finally found a dog that would fetch my shoes and it was more likely to break the house than be housebroken.

To reassure Jacq, I’d promised not to venture past the wards alone. The necessity of making such a promise irritated me. I might be younger, but I was also a capable warrior. The voice of reason had saved the good detective’s bacon. I might have powers, but she didn’t know about them. Mynx and I were coming to the club together, so it wasn’t a hard promise to keep. But that hadn’t made me any happier with the stubborn, chivalrous woman.

Now Jacq, Fera and I sat here in the club’s little known upper level. This room was twice as large as the one below. A portion of the floor was rolled away to reveal a two-way mirror set in the ceiling of the room below. It was this room I was watching while analyzing the other women. Jacq kept eying the space beside me where Mynx should have been. Jacq thought I’d broken my promise and come alone.

She would see soon enough.

The room visible through the two-way glass was currently empty of all but a padded chair and a large, black-sheeted bed. The club’s downstairs had been done in black. Few knew about the white rooms upstairs. The area where we were seated was for Lady D’s more famous clientele’s vice of voyeurism. And if the glass floor wasn’t enough, there were four massive flat screens, one on each wall, showing live feed from the currently empty room. Each showed a different view of the room below. Sound was piped in, too. But currently everything was quiet, which was why I’d picked that room. It was the best insulated.

Lady D’s House of Delights was the address Benito Carmel, the Blood-Kin’s man-of-business, had given me when I’d called regarding our leak. Or rather,
his
leak. Carlisle not only worked for the Council but for Benito’s boss, Louisiana’s Vampire King. And the time Benito had advised was fast approaching. Earlier in the day, I’d called Darryl Quinton, the club’s drag-queen owner, to let him know we were coming. He also happened to be the city’s reigning Voodoo Queen, Lady D, and my good friend.

I’d been fortunate that of all the clubs in the area, the loose-lipped council agent frequented this one. Darryl and I went way back, to my days tracking down cheating spouses. He’d hired me to spy on a business/bed partner he’d suspected of skimming profits. I’d caught the crook with one hand in the cookie jar and the other up a skirt. Only one of those had been Darryl’s, and it had been the wrong one. I’d given D the evidence and walked away. I wasn’t sure what had happened to the man. And I didn’t ask. I owed the club’s owner more than I could repay. But more importantly, Voodoo was one of the few things that scared the bejeezus right out of me.

Even so, I’d liked Darryl and his alter-ego, Lady D, and later introduced him to my old friend, Buck LaRue. They’d been together ever since. We visited often, but it had been awhile since I’d entered the club. Whips and chains weren’t my thing…unless I was the one wielding them.

“Waiting for what?” Fera asked impatiently, dragging me from my thoughts. I was saved from having to answer by Buck’s entrance. He was the only man I knew who could wear black leather pants and a black T-shirt with a Stetson and cowboy boots. The man oozed sex appeal. Fera’s tail practically wagged as she jerked her feet off Jacq’s lap and moved closer to the other woman, making room on the couch. For a several-hundred-years-old woman, she sure was transparent. If I didn’t already know she was Fae, I’d think she was a cat in heat like Mynx. Little did she realize that a woman would never turn Buck’s head, which was a definite loss for the fairer sex. Buck’s sexiness was matched only by his boyish charm. That second characteristic was responsible for the large tub of buttered popcorn he carried. You could trust Buck to turn anything into entertainment.

“Down girl,” I said as Buck sat beside me, tipped back his cowboy hat, and began to launch popcorn into the air, catching it with his mouth. Fera watched avidly. Buck seemed clueless to her reaction. I smiled inwardly, knowing better. I might be numb inside, but my friend’s antics chipped away at the ice covering my soul. Buck’s mischievous streak was just another thing that made us such good friends. “His man will tear out your heart and eat it.”

Buck laughed. “No, honey, you forget. Darryl feeds them their own hearts as he watches.” He winked, popping another piece of popcorn before adding, “My sweetie’s a vegetarian.” Stuffed jaws working hard to chew his snack, he looked around at the different monitors, completely missing Jacq’s amused and Fera’s disappointed expressions. The latter was understandable. No one would ever think Buck was gay by looking at him. With a dark tan, sun-streaked hair and green eyes, he was a good ole—sexy as hell—country boy. I’d always thought Buck was what happened when you mixed the
Dukes of Hazzard
with
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
. But Fera’s reaction was nothing compared to what happened when people saw him and Darryl together. Buck was the perfect foil for his much darker lover.

I was still empty inside, but Buck’s joy of life was always infectious. A small spark lit somewhere within me. And seeing Fera’s attention shift so quickly had left me feeling something—perhaps, something more generous—toward Jacq, but it was hard to tell. The emotion was only a seed of something that would hopefully grow larger as the night progressed.

Jacq wasn’t the type to let a lover stray. Whatever her relationship with Fera, it didn’t include benefits of a sexual nature. I snuck a look at the woman in question. She’d worn cream pants and a matching sleeveless top that made her skin glow and her auburn hair look even darker. Her closed expression had opened slightly since Buck’s entrance. She now watched me with half-lidded eyes. I quickly returned my gaze to my friend.

Leaning his muscular frame back and extending an arm over the couch top, Buck asked redundantly, “Has the show started yet?”

He still had the athletic build of the quarterback he’d once been. I inhaled his spicy cologne and moved until I leaned against his shoulder. Buck was like a brother to me. Being near him was always comforting. And I knew he enjoyed it, too. Outside of Buck’s immediate family, I was the only person who could cuddle Lady D’s man without ending up in traction.

“What show?” Fera wouldn’t be stopped.

That little seed of hope inside me had managed to sprout, even in the icy plains of my heart. Where before I hadn’t cared, now part of me wanted to hear Jacq’s husky voice instead of Fera’s sultry one. As I saw the vampire walk into the room below followed by Mynx in her black leather cat-suit, I thought I might hear my auburn-haired protector comment. Unfortunately, it was Fera who rounded on me.

“What in the
hell?
What is that vamp lackey, what’s his name?” Fera snapped her fingers. “Carlisle. What’s he doing here?” Her angry tone turned humorous as Mynx began to slowly undress the hypnotized man. “You better not have brought me to some sort of sex show without warning. I’d have dressed more appropriately.”

Fera looked nice in black trousers and a gold shirt that brought out the gold in her many-hued hair, so I assumed “more appropriately” meant showing more skin. The question sounded rhetorical, so I didn’t answer. That was a mistake, because then Fera’s gaze shifted from the now nude man to my face. Even my numb emotions couldn’t completely block my sense of propriety.

“Why is she blushing?” No longer inquisitive, Fera had the demanding voice of someone who had a mass of highly trained spooks at her beck and call.

What a perfect time for the playful Fera to disappear and the commanding sheriff to appear. I was about to tell her to piss off when Buck, in traditional Screw-You-LaRue fashion, chimed in. Too bad, it was always his friends that got screwed.

“The Ice Princess has always been a bit of a prude. Haven’t you, sweetie?” He nudged my shoulder, not giving me a moment to answer—not that my doubly embarrassed mouth could. “She swore she wouldn’t even have sex until she got married.” He laughed. I cringed. “I bet Deveroux popped that cherry good when you and he—ow!”

Even my frozen soul knew better than to let him continue talking. Just as he was about to say “got hitched,” I shifted, and my elbow
accidentally
ended up in his groin. My one-week marriage to Luke had been annulled years ago. If only I could wipe that mistake from everyone’s minds as easily as it had been removed from the state’s records.