He grunted his reply as he ushered me through the ropes and glared at the people who dared to complain about me walking straight in. He tugged me through the club, the crowd parting as he neared. He didn’t stop until he escorted me right up to the VIP section where he passed me off to Jack, my personal VIP security, and also my very gay best friend.
The inside of the club was filled with warm light and comfortable white leather sofas, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I was ready to sit down and attempt to crack some jokes to ease my tension while Jack tried to keep a straight face at his post near my table. He handed me a wine list and winked at me before saying, “Wine or tequila tonight, you filthy skank, or maybe some water to rehydrate yourself after all the shots you had last night?” Then he really looked at me, you know, the way someone does when they know you too well. “You look like you’ve had a long fucking day,” he acknowledged.
“You have no idea, Jack,” I admitted to him. “Tell Courtney to bring me a bottle of the best tequila they’ve got in-house tonight, on ice, with a shot glass and a plate of sliced pineapple, please.”
I didn’t need to look at the menu. I already knew what I wanted. It was not going to be found on a list of expensive wines that I’d never been able to enjoy, much less taste the “smokey grapes” they claimed to use when making it.
I wanted to forget.
And enough tequila would do that for anyone.
Jack reached along his collar to hit a button attached to his ear piece while he whispered quietly into it. Normally I’d tell him to stop ignoring me while he flipped through his porn playlist, because porn wasn’t fun to listen to. He’d shoot back with “No, it’s only fun to participate in.” We’d giggle about it, though in reality, Jack wasn’t joking. He wouldn’t watch porn. He only enjoyed making it.
But all I could think about was the short premonition I had on the way here. I wondered, briefly, if I should tell Jack about Taylor Caplin potentially being a new stalker. He did sit outside of CBP property until I left, and then he followed us halfway home before Franklin decided it was a good time to lose him. Franklin knew better than to mention the issue while I was on the phone with my Dad. Charles would’ve sent for Taylor’s head.
Jack saw me staring off into space and raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. He was waiting for me to be snarky, and he knew his eyebrows really pissed me off. They were always so fucking perfect. I rolled my eyes at myself, or him. I wasn’t even sure which of us was annoying me more. We could both see that I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I decided to gloss over the Caplin issue for now, but I did have to tell him that I was expecting a visitor at some point tonight.
Jack was a horse shifter, sort of. Well, kind of. We called him a horse shifter, anyway. He looked every bit of it by his size too. He was bulky in his human form. All tanned muscle and dark hair with nearly black irises that always looked like he was whispering “fuck me” to anyone he was looking at.
His shifted form was a beautiful, solid black steed, darker than pitch. His flame colored eyes and the hellfire trailing in his wake let everyone know that he was all demon if they ever saw him. Most didn’t live to tell anyone what they witnessed. He was a demon myth, and we liked to keep it that way.
I’d ridden Jack bareback a few times. He refused to let me put a saddle on him, though. I pouted every single time. Riding bareback made my thighs sweaty, and I hated it. Uhm, not ridden in a dirty way. Though I suppose that point is moot.
I guess I should have revised the way I talked about trying to get over my phobia of horses. The animals were beautiful, but they used to terrify me. Jack stood at a brag-worthy twenty hands or so and thought he could help. Whatever that meant. He didn’t help. I didn’t enjoy lessons with Jack, but I did enjoy Jack’s company when he was not an ass, err, horse. You know what I meant. When he wasn’t an ass or a horse.
“Jack,” I quietly called for him. He immediately strode to me, bending over so I could speak to him without the other people in the VIP section hearing us. “I’m expecting company tonight, a well-built man, but I couldn’t get a glimpse of his face.”
There was no need to explain anything else, because Jack knew me and the gifts I possessed. Most of them, anyway. I didn’t even know them all. My powers were constantly evolving and growing. He raised both of those perfectly arched eyebrows and replied with a whispered “hit me”, which meant he wanted me to show him what I saw.
I slid the vision in his mind carefully. If I sent images too fast to someone I didn’t have a connection with it could cause a great deal of pain. Even though Jack and I had maintained a mental connection since we were kids, I still liked to be cautious. He nodded his head in a way that told me he’d keep his eyes open for the mystery man. He turned his back to me while reclaiming his original position at the far edge of my half-circle booth.
The white leather seating in the VIP section matched the rest of the sitting areas and barstools in the club. The tabletops were all glossy and black and so shiny you could almost see your reflection in them. The flooring throughout the club was a Brazilian cherry with an ebony stain on top, and in the dim overhead lighting it looked black.
There was a red carpet runner that led down the aisle of the VIP section. It began at the bottom stair and ran all the way to the opening of the booth I always occupied. I was far enough back to be left alone, but close enough that the people who didn’t have VIP access could see who was up here. There were several sets of large, rectangular booths on the left-hand side against the wall. They were all occupied tonight, but one look at Jack as they tried to approach me had them scurrying the opposite way.
Courtney appeared a few moments after Jack and I ended our chat with the things I had requested and a sealed envelope from my father, Nathaniel. She popped the top on the chilled liquor and poured me the first shot with a smile on her baby-like face. “Sloooooane,” she practically slurred at me, “That dress looks fucking amazing on you! Everyone in the club stopped what they were doing to watch you walk by.”
“Thanks.” My reply was clipped, though I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. She had no idea what those people thought about as they stared at me. She was human and full of pure thoughts. Pure-ish thoughts. The woman’s mind was actually pretty perverted for a human. She didn’t constantly think of power, control, or murder, though, so the word “pure” worked well enough.
I spent the next two hours drinking and being eye-fucked by the people brave enough to look my way. I was trying not to get drunk, even though I’d need more than the one bottle I had ordered to achieve true inebriation. Or the blackout level that I really sought tonight. I still caught a good buzz off the bottle I made myself slowly finish. I asked Jack for a glass of water, and the male looked worriedly at me. I rolled my eyes at him and he raised that fucking eyebrow at me again. That. Perfect. Fucking. Eyebrow.
Throwing his shouted thoughts straight into my head while his back remained turned to me, he asked, “Are you feeling okay? It’s 1am and you want water? Fucking water, Lo! Are you sick? Or just trying to stay sober to meet the mystery man.” He snickered at me as he continued his lecture. “And I heard that. I’ll do your eyebrows next time instead of you going to see that raggedy, old bitch who's been doing them. Oh, wait. That’s you!” He twisted his head to wink at me. That asshole.