Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “I pulled you from university in Montana because you were playing vigilante down there,” he reminded her icily. “You were utilizing your abilities in front of mortals and drawing attention to yourself, and by extension, our people. Which is against our laws. My choice was to either move you or execute you. Would you have preferred execution?”
“Of course not, but . . .” Ildaria hesitated and then slumped in her seat with defeat. She supposed the setback to her education was probably nothing more than she deserved. She’d known she was playing with fire when she’d donned her leathers and gone out to kick some mortal bad-guy butt back in Montana. And she knew she was lucky that Lucian Argeneau had given her a second chance rather than have her executed. He wasn’t known for being soft on people who stepped out of line, and she had stepped out of line. Her only excuse was emotional distress, but she hadn’t explained that to Lucian when she’d been brought before him. She hadn’t had to, though. No doubt he’d read it from her mind and it was the only reason she was still breathing.
Letting her breath out slowly now, she nodded in acceptance and simply said, “Thank you.”
Lucian grunted at the soft words, his body relaxing. “You may go. I believe Sam is waiting for you in the kitchen . . . with hot chocolate and brownies.”
Ildaria couldn’t tell if he was annoyed that Sam was waiting to give her treats to soothe her after she’d got herself in trouble again, or amused. His mouth was definitely twitching though.
Supposing it didn’t matter, Ildaria stood and headed for the door, aware that Tybo and Valerian had also stood to follow her. They had to take her back to the university to fetch her car, she recalled then, and probably wouldn’t want to wait for her to enjoy those treats. That or they’d gobble them all up on her. She’d seen Tybo eat. He’d inhale the brownies before she got her hand on one if she didn’t run ahead of them.
But in the next moment, she realized that wouldn’t be necessary because Lucian barked, “Not you two. I am not finished with you yet.”
Ildaria glanced back to see Tybo and Valerian reluctantly returning to their chairs and had to smother the smile that wanted to claim her lips. Tybo had been so annoying with his nonsense about having the sense not to be caught on video that she didn’t feel at all bad he was in trouble now.
Leaving the men to be raked over the coals by Lucian, she hurried out into the hall, headed for the kitchen and the promised brownies and cocoa awaiting her. There was nothing like chocolate to make you feel better after a stressful event. Between that and a chat with Sam, she hoped to be feeling at least a little better before the men rejoined her.
Two
Ildaria pushed through the red door of the Night Club the next day and then paused, blinking rapidly. The early afternoon sunlight was bright still, but in this room there was only the one small window in the door to allow the sun’s rays in. Most of the interior lights were off—only a set of five or six pot lights over the bar at the back of the room were on and they didn’t illuminate much other than the bar itself. Her eyes needed a second to adjust to the darkness before she could properly see the rich dark wood and leather interior of the establishment she’d entered.
It was impressive, Ildaria decided as she finally started toward the bar. There were no clients in the place at the moment. The Night Club wouldn’t officially be open until sunset. Without clients cluttering up the place and blocking her view, she could see everything quite clearly.
Her gaze slid with appreciation over the gleaming dark wood booths along the front and side walls, with their leather cushioned seats of a deep wine color, and then moved over the wooden tables and chairs taking up the center of the room, before shifting to the long dark wood bar along the back with high-backed bar stools lining it (again of rich dark wood and deep-wine leather seats). There was a set of swing doors in the back wall to the left of the bar, and then a huge mirror and the bar itself ran the rest of the length of that wall until it stopped at a hall leading to the back of the building. The mirror was probably forty feet long and reached to the ceiling. It was lined with shelves, but they didn’t hold bottles of alcohol as they would in a mortal establishment. Here glasses of every size and description filled the shelves: cocktail glasses, highball glasses, wineglasses (both the smaller, more rounded glasses used for red wine, as well as the taller type for white), champagne glasses, brandy snifters. There were even cordial glasses, she noted and smiled wryly as she wondered what they used them for. Who would order a tiny cordial glass of blood mixed with flavor or mood enhancers?
Immortals who came to the club, she supposed and then paused halfway across the room when a man pushed through the swinging doors. He was mortal. He was also huge, a veritable giant at what she would guess was six and a half feet, and that didn’t include the bright green Mohawk on his head that had to be a foot high. But it wasn’t just his height that made him huge. He was also wide, with the shoulders of a linebacker and bulging arm muscles that made the tattoos revealed by his short-sleeved shirt move as he raised the plate he carried.
Ildaria’s gaze shifted automatically to the plate piled high with food and she noted that it held two huge double stacked burgers and about a pound of french fries. Their delicious scent wafted to her and her stomach gurgled with interest.
“It’s not for you.”
Ildaria blinked at that growled announcement in a thick British accent and dragged her gaze from the delicious smelling food to the man’s face to see that he wasn’t looking at her. He was peering down toward . . . his groin? Confusion filled her at that realization. He couldn’t be talking to his penis. She didn’t think. Shaking her head, she said, “I didn’t presume it was for me.”
The big man stopped walking and jerked his head up at her words, his eyes widening when he saw her standing there. “Marguerite’s Ildaria?”
“Si.” She started forward again.
“Hi.” He smiled and then added, “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you, I was addressing my . . . Arsehole!” he ended with irritation and did a little shuffling dance.
“You were addressing your arsehole?” she asked, amusement curving her lips as she reached the bar and stopped between two stools.
Looking flustered now, the man shook his head and then scowled down at something she obviously couldn’t see below the bar. “No. I—” Pausing, he did another little shimmying dance and barked, “Dammit H.D.! Stop that! You aren’t getting any food.”
Curiosity rising within her, Ildaria stepped up on the brass rail that ran along the bottom of the bar and leaned over the dark stone top to peer at the floor on the other side.
“Oh, my,” she murmured and then bit her lip to hold back a burst of laughter when she saw the tiny, cream-colored ball of fur that was presently humping the huge man’s ankle. It looked like a fluffy teddy bear come to life, and he was really romancing the big guy’s ankle.
“Your dog?” she asked mildly.
“Yeah,” he grunted, giving his leg another shake in an effort to dislodge the determined little guy.
“What kind?” she asked with interest.
“Bichonpoo,” the man said still glaring down at the dog, and explained, “Bichon Frise and toy poodle mix.”
“Oh.” Ildaria nodded, a grin pulling her lips wider as H.D. refused to be removed and continued to hump at the big man’s lower leg. Lifting her gaze to the plate the man was holding, she snatched a french fry from the pile and tossed it to the dog. The pup was immediately off the man’s leg and leaping to catch the treat. Really, it was an impressive catch. He got some serious height in his jump to snatch that fry out of midair. As the dog dropped to the floor to gobble up his prize, the man heaved a sigh, drawing her attention back to him.
Ildaria’s gaze moved with interest over his muscular body before sliding up to his head. When Marguerite had asked her if she’d mind stopping to pick up some blood from the Night Club on the way back from the university, she’d said the man she would be getting it from was G.G. which stood for Green Giant. Ildaria had immediately asked why he was called that, but the other woman had merely smiled and said she’d understand when she met him. Her gaze moving over the green strands of hair standing up stiff on his head in a Mohawk, Ildaria understood.
“That’s what he was working for and what I was trying to avoid,” G.G. announced now, reclaiming her attention to the fact that he was scowling between her and the dog.
It took Ildaria a moment to return her mind to the conversation, and then she gave a disbelieving laugh and asked, “He was humping your leg for food?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” G.G. pointed out dryly. “He humped my leg and you gave him food to get him off.”
“Ah.” She shifted her gaze down to the dog who had finished his fry and was now staring up from her to G.G., his tongue coming out repeatedly to lick his upper lip as if he was trying to tell them he wanted more. Shaking her head, she shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. But I couldn’t resist. Damn that’s one cute dog.” Opening her eyes wide, she smiled at the pooch and added, “Aren’t you, H.D.?”
When the dog focused his attention on her, she found herself using that cooing voice all humans resort to when faced with cute creatures like babies and puppies. “Aren’t you a pretty puppy? Hmm? Yes you are. You look like a little teddy bear. I just want to cuddle you all up.”
That elicited a high-pitched bark from the little fur ball, and then he turned and charged to the open end of the bar by the swinging doors and careened around it, his little nails clacking on the hardwood.
“H.D., no!” G.G. said with alarm, dropping his plate on the bar and chasing after the dog even as he warned, “Get on a stool. He doesn’t like women and he’s an ankle biter.”
Ildaria ignored the warning, and turned to face the dog as he sprinted into view around the corner of the bar, still yipping as he came. Rather than climb up on a stool, she stepped down off the brass rail and crouched down to greet the little fluffy dog. When he reached her, she caught him under the front legs and lifted him fearlessly to her face so she could press kisses to his furry cheeks. He immediately began licking wildly at any part of her face he could reach.