Crave the Night: A Midnight Breed Novel (9 page)

NATHAN LED HIS TEAM INTO CASSIAN GRAY’S CLUB AT THE height of the evening’s most lucrative hour. The dance floor and bar on street level were jammed with people who’d shelled out the steep cover charge just to get in, but the real commerce—Cass’s bread and butter—was taking place in the cages below.

With fearful glances and anxious murmurs rising in their wake, the heavily armed patrol squad cut a path through the crowd upstairs and headed down to La Notte’s arena.

The fights, and the sizable bets that accompanied them, were already well under way. Rune always drew the largest numbers, and tonight appeared to be no exception. The immense, dark-haired Breed male was matched against an opponent almost his equal in size and menace.

At six and a half feet tall and 300-plus pounds apiece, the two vampires dressed in little more than leather breeches and locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat inside the cage was a sight few humans would ever see in their lifetimes.

So much the better that the Breed-on-Breed blood sport could be enjoyed from the perceived safety of the club surrounding the steel-reinforced arena.

The crowd gasped as Rune drove a hard right hook into his opponent’s jaw. Bone cracked and blood spewed from the vampire’s slack mouth.

The blow was punishing, catastrophic, given that each fighter wore titanium-spiked, fingerless leather gloves in the ring. The metal was
meant to increase the savagery of the contest, but it also served to discourage the fighters from doping their performance with excessive feeding before a match.

If a Breed pushed himself into Bloodlust—the addiction only a rare few had ever beaten—the titanium of his opponent’s knuckle spikes would enter his diseased bloodstream and kill the vampire faster than any pounding he might suffer in the cages.

With the spectators cheering wildly, Rune’s opponent sank down onto his knees on a low howl of anguish. Nathan assessed the damage with a shrewd assassin’s eye. Another strike like the last one and Rune’s kill count would increase along with the stakes on him at the cashier.

Rune didn’t seem interested in beefing up his record or his worth. The big male stood back, allowing the other vampire the choice to either hit the mercy button on the cage and deliver Rune a jolt of electricity to the U-shaped steel collar each fighter wore around his neck or continue the match without the benefit of the handicap. Shouts of disapproval traveled the crowd near the cages as their champion refused to end the bout with an easy, but unnecessary, kill.

As the fight resumed, Nathan gestured to his squad to begin clearing the place out. It took only moments—and the flash of fangs from a group of combat-ready Order members—to send the bulk of the club’s clientele in the direction of the nearest exits.

But the intrusion also got the swift attention of La Notte’s security staff. Nathan and his men played rough with them tonight, no need to pretend they weren’t there to stir things up and make their presence known.

Elijah, Jax, and Rafe bounced a few Breed guards into the brick walls of the place, while Nathan soon found himself going hand to hand with a couple of the other fighters employed by Cassian Gray.

He disabled both in seconds, stopping just short of killing them. He wheeled around to face yet another of Cass’s fighters, but Syn made no move to take him on. Just shy of Nathan or Rune’s size, and handsome to the point of being pretty, the blond Breed male held his own impressive record in the cages. But he seemed to know better than to invite further problems with Nathan. All around them, the club was emptying out.

“Tell your boss we’re gonna come back every night and toss this place until we hear from him,” Nathan warned. “The longer he takes, harder the Order’s gonna push.”

Syn merely stared, unfazed, watching the arena empty further. Only the drunks and diehard fight fans remained now, a clot of about forty people still riveted to the match winding down in the cage.

Nathan stared into that crowd and felt his veins go tight as his gaze locked on to a pair of young women in the front row of the straggling spectators.

Holy hell
.

Carys was easy enough to spot. Her loose caramel waves bounced around the shoulders of her form-fitted black sweater as she cheered on her man, dark denim hugging her backside. She jumped up and down on high-heeled black boots, clapping her hands and whistling as the clock ran out and Rune’s victory was assured.

The other female was a surprise Nathan neither wanted nor needed tonight.

With her back to him, Jordana Gates stood beside Carys, dressed by contrast in a soft gray pencil skirt and pale pink silk blouse. Her long white-blond hair was gathered into some kind of knotted updo at her nape.

Jesus, she looked like she belonged in a boardroom meeting uptown, not a blood match down in the cages of Boston’s least reputable club.

Except Jordana seemed as rapt as Carys with the match taking place tonight. Neither woman paid any attention as Nathan left Syn standing behind him and made his way toward the pair. He smelled liquor on them even before he was halfway across the room. And now he noticed that the women were less than steady on their feet, even Jordana in her conservative pumps.

When the bell on the match rang out, Carys and Jordana cheered Rune’s name along with the handful of spectators around them. Nathan stalked forward, idly aware that Rune had peeled off his gloves and collar in order to catch Carys as she threw open the cage door and flew into his arms.

He felt Rune’s dark gaze light on him in disapproval for the Order’s interruption of the night’s commerce, but Nathan’s focus was trained elsewhere now.

Jordana went still suddenly, then slowly turned around. Her gaze collided with Nathan’s glower, a connection he felt like a lightning strike that sent heat straight to his groin.

If he’d thought Jordana looked suited for a board meeting from behind,
facing her now threw that lame comparison out the window. Her blouse was carelessly untucked in front, the first three buttons unfastened, creating a tempting plunge of bare flesh that ended just between the perfect swell of her breasts.

Her skin there was flushed, a pretty rose hue that traveled up her throat and into her cheeks now as well. He couldn’t help imagining her blood rushing through those delicate capillaries. Hell, he could almost taste it. His mouth watered at the thought, making his fangs punch out of his gums.

Desire ignited in a flash, hot and consuming. His cock answered the surge of need coursing through him, suddenly straining behind his black combat fatigues.

Nathan knew his pupils were winnowing down to narrow slits as he drank in the sight of Jordana’s disheveled beauty. The amber light of his transforming irises bathed her face in a dim glow.

His body’s swift reaction shocked him. And he was more than a little disturbed that he couldn’t seem to master his urges when it came to this particular woman.

Never one to back down, however, Nathan advanced on her. He called a command to his teammates to sweep out the back rooms and VIP lounge, ordering them to send every last person out of the place.

“The party’s over,” he snarled, his eyes still rooted on Jordana.

She scowled up at him, planting her hands on the tempting curves of her hips. “What right did you have to do that?” she demanded, her words sounding thicker than normal, no doubt thanks to the alcohol she’d consumed.

Nathan held her annoyed stare. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice this place makes its profits off illegal blood sport and gambling. Not to mention other deviant amusements you’d rather not know about,” he added. “It’s about time someone shuts this hellhole down.”

“No,” she said, tossing her head back and forth. The motion collapsed her loosely gathered mane and sent the platinum waves tumbling around her shoulders and down her back. “No, I’m talking about you, Nathan. What right did you have to storm into my life and mess everything up?”

He frowned, taken aback, not only by the question but by the sound of his name on her lips. “I stormed into your life?”

“Yes, you did.” She moved closer to him, until there was hardly an arm’s length between them. Then closer still. “You’re a dark, dangerous
storm, Nathan.” She tilted her head back, her glacial blue eyes arresting, even in the darkness of the club. “If I’m not careful, I’m going to leap off a cliff with you.”

He blew out a curse, peering harder at her. Christ, just how much had she had to drink tonight? She might be speaking nonsense due to one too many cocktails, but her steady, searching gaze and parted lips were communicating to his senses clearly enough.

“You’re the worst thing that could ever happen to me, Nathan.”

“At least we agree on something.” She listed toward him and he growled, whether with need or irony, he wasn’t sure. “Collect your things, Jordana. I’m going to have one of my men take you home.”

“No,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No, I don’t want to go home to my apartment alone. I want to wait for Carys.”

He glanced over, recognizing that Carys was in no better shape herself. Plus, she was wrapped around Rune in one of the booths outside the cages. It didn’t appear she would be leaving for a while, and Nathan had no intention of allowing Jordana to hang around the club in the condition she was in now.

And despite Carys’s obvious trust and affection for Rune, there was no way in hell Nathan would leave Jordana’s well-being in that male’s hands.

Fuck
.

Her apartment wasn’t far. He could drop her off safely and be back on task with his patrol team in no time.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Nathan clamped his hand around her wrist and took her with him outside.

FIVE MINUTES LATER, JORDANA WAS SEATED ON THE PASSENGER side of her car, watching Nathan navigate the Back Bay’s maze of one-way streets en route to her apartment. “It really wasn’t necessary for you to take me home. I could’ve managed on my own.”

“Out of the question,” he said, his stern profile bathed in the milky glow of the dashboard.

His deep voice brooked no argument, and she was instantly reminded that Nathan was no Darkhaven gentleman. He was an Order squad captain. A Gen One Breed male and former assassin.

A man adept at killing in God only knew how many ways. And yet here he was, playing designated driver to her after she’d foolishly over-imbibed.

Already she was sobering up, the mild alcohol buzz replaced by the twitchy flutter of her pulse as she sat beside Nathan in the dimly lit vehicle.

“Anyway, thank you,” she murmured belatedly, unable to tear her eyes from him.

He was handsome in a harsh way, his cheekbones too sharp, his jaw too square and unyielding. His eyes were stormier than ever as he sped her home, a blue-green thundercloud under the severe slashes of his black brows.

His mouth was easily the softest of his features, his lips far too full and lush for the cool, almost constant grimness of his expression. Jordana knew all too well how warm those broad, sculpted lips could be.
As she looked at him beside her in the vehicle, she was wildly tempted to taste them again.

He glanced her way, no doubt feeling her eyes on him. “I wouldn’t have guessed La Notte was your kind of place, considering what goes on there.”

Jordana shrugged. “I don’t spend much time at the club normally. The only reason I went tonight was because I knew Carys was there with Rune.”

“Looked to me like you were having a pretty good time up there in the front row outside the fighting cages.”

She frowned, hating that she’d let herself get caught up in the seedy entertainments of the club. Elliott would be upset if he found out, but her father would likely go apoplectic if he found out she knew the place even existed, let alone that she’d been inside.

“Of course, I don’t condone the violence of the matches,” she murmured, “nor the fact that profits are being made off spilled blood. It’s an appalling business.”

He grunted. “The fights aren’t the only way La Notte’s owner fills his purse.”

Jordana knew he wasn’t talking about the bar and dancing at street level, nor the sim lounge where people could slip into their choice of several virtual reality landscapes at a hefty hourly rate. “You mean the BDSM dens downstairs.”

Nathan swung a dark look on her. “You know about the sex rooms?”

“I haven’t actually seen them,” she hedged. “Carys told me about them.”

He cursed, low under his breath. “Don’t tell me Rune has taken her in there. For fuck’s sake, tell me he doesn’t do that with her—”

“No.” Jordana gave a dismissive shake of her head. “No, of course not. He might make his living in the cages, but Rune’s nothing but gentle with Carys. He’s protective of her, always. He wouldn’t even want her near that part of the club.”

Another grunt from Nathan, this time with a mix of relief and something else that Jordana couldn’t discern. He seemed to grow more tense now, staring back at the road ahead, a muscle ticking hard in his jaw. “If Rune truly cared about Carys, he’d make sure she never stepped foot in La Notte at all. It’s no place for you either.”

Jordana arched a brow. “Now you’re starting to sound like Elliott. He’s all but forbidden me from the place.”