All Knight Long, Book I: One Warlock's Love Story (3 page)

“We’re almost there. Take the next exit, go through the next five lights and take a right. It’ll be the large abandoned-looking warehouse at the end of the street,” Giovanni instructed.

“Got it,” Zander said, glad that they were speaking again.

“So, I never asked. What power level are you?” Giovanni questioned

“I never took the formal private magic school leveling exam, but I test out at a 10.6 on the home exam,” Zander said.

“Damn! Are you serious? 10.6 out of 12? That is coven leader level. I don’t even think I know anyone in double digits. 10.6 and you aren’t even out of your teens!”

“It isn’t really that big a deal,” Zander mumbled.

“Damn if it isn’t. At a 10.6 you’re able to handle levitation and transformation, right?” Giovanni asked.

“I am actually thinking about going to Europe for formal training,” Zander said, surprising himself. He hadn’t really been thinking about going to Europe, but it sounded good, so he went with it. He also wasn’t that good at magic. Sure he was powerful, but he had never been trained to wield magic the way that his cousins had at the private magic schools.

“That’s wassup! Hell, I might even go with you. I’m not trying to do any damn studying, but I am sure that there are a few hot boys in Europe ready for a little
magic trick
,” he teased.

“I think we’re here,” Zander said, looking at the cars parked along both sides of the street leading up to the large warehouse at the end of the road.

“This is it. Now we just need to find somewhere to park. Turn up this side street. I think I see a space on the other side of that truck.” Sure enough, there was a space just large enough for Zander’s A6, and he parallel parked with relative ease.

“I think we need to leave our valuables in the car. These types of clubs can attract some shady characters,” Giovanni said.

“What?” Zander asked, immediately wary.

“It isn’t a tea party or a tired-ass Litha.” Giovanni rolled his eyes. “This is a real fucking club. All you need is some money and your ID.”

“What kind of place is this again?” Zander asked, his nerves welling up in his stomach.

“It’s an underground club for same-sex loving supernaturals called Arcane,” Giovanni said lightly, as he jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Zander stuffed all of his valuables, except $40 and his identification, in the glove compartment and then locked and covered it with a small protection spell. Giovanni was halfway up the street before Zander could even get out of the car.

“Wait! Did you say same-sex loving?” Zander asked, looking around cautiously. The night was completely still and unusually bright. Zander found himself wishing that he had paid more attention to his grandmother’s lessons on communicating with night fairies. One person was making his way toward the club from the other end of the street, and he didn’t seem to be very interested in either Zander or Giovanni. The large warehouse stood still and silent, and Zander was starting to wonder if they were at the right place.

“Maybe we should just...” Zander began.

“Just what? Loosen up your look a little bit?” Giovanni unbuttoned and removed Zander’s striped dress shirt, leaving him in a cerulean t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. Giovanni picked through the dozens of bracelets lining his arms and decided on six to slide onto Zander’s right wrist. Giovanni threw Zander’s discarded dress shirt in the air, waved his hand, and watched it disappear in a puff of smoke.

“Why did you do that?” Zander asked, annoyed.

“We’re going to a club, not an interview,” Giovanni replied simply. “Do you not have any tattoos or piercings?”

“No,” Zander said defensively.

“Don’t you ever wear any jewelry?” he continued.

“Not really,” Zander answered.

“We can work on that later. Now you look like someone that I might hang out with. Let’s go!” Giovanni grabbed Zander’s hand and jogged up the street.

Zander hadn’t noticed before, but a massive, bulky bodyguard, clad in all black with a blonde Mohawk and sunglasses was now standing at the front entrance to Arcane.

“Where did he come from?” Zander whispered.

“Be quiet,” Giovanni whispered. “She’ll hear you. That’s a shape shifter.” Zander took Giovanni’s lead as they approached the burly bodyguard, who wore a nametag that indicated her name was Ooba.

Giovanni lifted his arms to be frisked. The bodyguard took a long whiff and an even longer time giving him a body search. Giovanni, however, seemed to enjoy it. Zander endured a similar sniff and search routine before they were allowed to enter. The bodyguard’s deep, sultry baritone boomed, “Glad that you two came out tonight. Nothing tastes quite as good as ripe warlock.” Zander felt the cool ruby on his chest heat up like it had been set on fire.

As soon as they crossed the threshold from the outside to the inside of the club, they went from complete silence to raucous club noise the likes of which Zander had never heard. There was screaming, laughing, and howling covered by a thick layer of typical club music. The music’s heavy liquid vocal harmonies and intricate melodic phrasing seemed to seep into Zander’s soul. They entered into a long, narrow hallway filled with dozens of people waiting to get into the club. The walls were covered with handwritten signs reading NO SHIFTING, NO SPELL CASTING, NO SUCKING! The air was filled with an intoxicating mixture of marijuana, alcohol, and some other musky sent that Zander couldn’t quite identify.

Despite the narrow hallway, several people at the end of the line turned to look at Zander and Giovanni as soon as they came in. The bodyguard slammed the door behind them, forcing Zander to bump into Giovanni, who was already beginning to gyrate and dance to the music.

“What is everyone looking at?” Zander whispered to Giovanni.

“I think they smelled us before they saw us. You
are
pretty ripe, and I am fine as hell. When was the last time you busted a nut anyway? The longer you go without sex, the riper you will become. You know that.” Giovanni exchanged flirtatious glances with a tall, slim, Asian vampire further up in the line.

“I know,” Zander said, but he really didn’t.

“It has been a while since I have had sex with a vampire. They fuck like rabbits in heat. I am getting hard again just thinking about it. He is gorgeous, and his body is as hot as fire. Do you think he has a nice dick?” Giovanni asked, never taking his eyes off of the vamp.

“What? No!” Zander hissed.

The line moved fairly quickly. When they reached the front, a beautiful, coffee-colored, young vampiress behind a glass enclosure recited the same rules that were plastered on the walls. The only difference was that she also gave the warning that they would be neutralized and permanently banned from the club if they were caught violating any of them. Zander didn’t know what it meant to be neutralized, but he knew that he didn’t want it done to him. After they agreed to follow the rules, the vampiress asked each of them to present identification and $20. After Zander showed his driver’s license and Giovanni showed his magic school identification, they were escorted through a large, black curtain by a figure in a dark, hooded robe.

The club was huge, and every inch seemed packed with writhing and wiggling bodies. Zander’s heart rate increased as the ruby went white hot against his skin. It was so hot, in fact, that he took it off and stuffed it into his pocket. Men were dancing with men, women were dancing with women, vampires were dancing with shifters, and shifters were dancing with witches. Zander noticed that the dances that they were doing were nothing like the ones that he and his mortal friends did back at his old high school dances. Someone howled behind them, and Zander jumped.

“Let’s go get a drink! Maybe that will loosen you up,” Giovanni laughed. Zander could barely hear him over the club music. Giovanni grabbed Zander’s hand and pulled him through the thrashing crowd toward the bar. Hands grabbed at every part of Zander’s body as they made their way through. He kept checking to make sure that his necklace, ID, and cash were still in his pocket.

The bar was at the other end of the club, furthest away from the DJ and dance floor, so it was just a little bit easier for Zander to hear.

“This shit is crazy!” Giovanni yelled.

“That is an understatement,” Zander sighed. The bar, like the rest of the club, was crowded, but Giovanni wasn’t shy about shoving his way up toward the front. A young, warlock bartender with shoulder length, blond hair immediately noticed them.

“Love and light,” he said, acknowledging Zander and Giovanni with the traditional warlocks’ greeting. They both responded with, “Blessed be.”

“My name is Milo. What are two little ripe warlocks like yourselves doing in a place like this?”

“Milo, my name is Giovanni, and this is Zander. We are here celebrating my friend’s eighteenth birthday,” Giovanni said. Zander smiled.

“No wonder you are so ripe. You just turned eighteen. You two had better not stand in one place for too long. You might get felt up in here,” Milo teased.

“Where does the line start?” Giovanni asked, and Milo laughed. Just then, the tall, slim, Asian vampire from the line slid up behind Giovanni.

“Bartender, these drinks are on me,” he said, pointing to Giovanni and Zander.

“We don’t know you,” Giovanni said, coyly.

“You don’t know me
yet
,” the vampire corrected. He looked to be around twenty-five in human years. He had a model’s swagger, a swimmer’s build, and he oozed of sensuality.

“I’m Giovanni and this is my friend, Zander. It’s his birthday,” Giovanni announced again. The vampire gave Zander a polite look and moved closer to Giovanni.

“My name is Hung,” he said.

“Really?” Giovanni raised an eyebrow.

“Hung is Vietnamese for spirit of a hero,” he explained.

“Oh, I thought it was vampire for you have a big dick,” Giovanni said.

“That, too.” Hung smiled, staring at the pulsing jugular in Giovanni’s neck.

“What are you having?” Milo interrupted, from behind the bar.

“I’ll have a Bloody Mary -- type O,” Hung said.

“Give us Hennessy and hemlock,” Giovanni said. Hung paid, and Milo poured the drinks and slammed them on the counter. Giovanni gulped down his drink before Zander could properly thank Hung. Hung whispered something in Giovanni’s ear, and Giovanni turned to Zander.

“I’m going to go dance with Hung. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Giovanni assured him. He was gone before Zander could object. Zander turned toward Milo, who was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll watch you until your friend gets back. Your next drink is on me since it’s your birthday,” Milo winked. Zander couldn’t tell if it was pity or flirting, but it didn’t matter. He would take either at this point. Zander reached into his pocket to find that the stone was even hotter. So hot, in fact, that it was starting to burn his leg. He reached up to the bar, grabbed a few napkins, wrapped the ruby necklace several times, and stuffed it back in his pocket.

Zander could see Giovanni grinding his fat little ass on Hung’s dick in the center of the dance floor. It was a good thing that no one had asked him to dance because he wasn’t sure that he could move that seductively without some practice and a few more drinks. He took a sip of his cocktail and was pleasantly surprised at how the smooth potion warmed him up and lowered his inhibitions. He’d tasted alcohol before but had never had his own drink – and certainly not one with hemlock in it. He stood with his back to the bar, occasionally smiling at admirers and trying to make sense of Club Arcane.

The DJ booth was perched up on a crow’s nest on the opposite end of the club behind a dark, smoky glass. Zander couldn’t see the DJ, but he could tell from the music that whoever was in there knew how to stir a crowd. The dance floor was shaped like a large square with pairs of male and female strippers dancing in cages in each of the four corners. Several platforms at different heights peppered the floor for dancers who wanted to see and be seen. To the left was the black curtain through which they had entered, and to the right was a series of numbered doors that were being patrolled by other security guards dressed like Ooba. The music changed into something with more of a reggae feel. Zander looked back toward the dance floor to find Giovanni and Hung now up on one of the platforms swinging and swaying to the beat.

Zander swallowed his entire drink and allowed the warm feeling to ease through his body.

“Not too fast, young warlock,” Milo said, as he slid another glass of Hennessy and hemlock toward Zander.

“Okay,” Zander agreed. He grabbed the second drink and took a small sip before turning his attention back toward Giovanni, Hung, and the undulating crowd. He could feel the Hennessy and hemlock opening him up. Zander wasn’t a bad dancer. He just wasn’t familiar with these particular dances. He studied Giovanni and imagined himself doing those same moves. Zander took the second drink and gulped it down.

“If you take it slow, then it might not hurt so much in the morning,” a voice said from behind Zander. He turned to find himself staring into a very broad and well-formed chest. Zander looked up into a pair of light brown eyes and was speechless. The stranger was tall and extremely muscular with skin the color of milk chocolate. He wore his hair in a long Afro, which was adorned with one cowrie shell at his left temple. A small, hemp loop was threaded through his right ear like an earring. His tight, white t-shirt seemed to show every single muscle in his torso, and his fitted jeans were doing nothing less for his legs and ass. The bulge at his crotch looked like he had stuffed a pair of socks or a large sausage in his pants. Zander assumed from his designer leather boots that he might also own a motorcycle.

“Excuse me?” Zander asked, trying not to stare into his eyes.

“I said if you take it slow, then it might not hurt so much in the morning,” the stranger repeated. Zander hesitated a second before realizing that he was referring to how quickly he had downed his second drink. Milo was no longer behind the bar, and Giovanni and Hung were nowhere to be found. Zander was all out of liquid courage and standing face to face with the most handsome man that he had ever seen.