Velvet Haven (8 page)

She was still kind of freaked out, and it didn’t help her current state of mind to know that she was standing on the sidewalk in the city’s notorious downtown east side. No one but drug addicts and vagrants came to this part of town. No one except the hundreds of eager people around her who were lining up, trying to get inside the old Gothic mansion.

“This is going to be so cool,” Rowan squealed beside her. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to get in.”

“How did you manage to score VIP tickets to the hottest club in town, anyway?” she asked, watching a big black bird land on the shoulder of the gargoyle statue. The thing was huge. But then, if the east side was his home, there was lots of garbage to dine on.

She watched its head cock to the left, its sharp, predator eyes honing in on something. Was it just her, or was the bird scanning the crowd as if it were looking for a midnight snack?

“I told you, my Tarot Guy brought a friend along with him this morning. He gave them to me.”

The flap of the raven’s wings drew Mairi’s attention away from Rowan. She watched the bird lift from the statue’s shoulder and fly to a branch of the apple tree above her. The branch wavered as the bird landed, and the sweet scent of apple blossoms wafted over her.

She was never one for bird watching, but this one had a strange silver streak on its back that captured her attention. It was extremely focused, astute, as it watched the crowd. Its head would cock sharply to the left and then to the right, as if it were listening. But always its sharp eyes came back to—her—if she allowed herself to admit it. But she couldn’t.

The bird is not watching me
, she muttered over and over, but still, she felt that rapacious gaze on her, even when she kept her eyes firmly lowered.

“Are you sure you should be accepting tickets from a guy you don’t even know?” Mairi asked.

“I swear,” Rowan gushed, “he was totally normal.”

“Yeah, well, we thought Aaron was, too. Till he turned into a stalker and we had to hide you for weeks.”

“That was months ago, and he’s in jail, remember? Besides, you know I’ve always wanted to get inside this place. How could I turn down free tickets?”

Was
Aaron still in jail? Mairi wasn’t so sure. Not after what Lauren had told her. “So, tell me about this man,” Mairi said as she watched a pair of guys with Mohawks and silver chains dangling from their nostrils to their lips saunter past them.

“His name is Sayer,” Rowan answered, watching the guys go by, “and, my God, is he hot. He came into Enchantment this morning with the Tarot Guy. Who, by the way, is überhot, too. He simmers with mystery and totally oozes sex. I bet he’s wild in the sack, once he lets go of his reserve.”

“I know. You talk about him every week.”

“Do I?” Rowan sighed. “He doesn’t notice me. At least not that way.”

“So a guy you’ve never met comes into your store and offers you tickets to Velvet Haven, and you accept them—and don’t feel a bit worried about that, especially after what I showed you happened in the city last night?”

Rowan paused. “Did it happen here?”

Mairi glanced at the bird, then at the facade of the club. “No.”

“Then what’s to worry about?”

“I don’t know.” And truly, she didn’t. But she felt like they should worry. This wasn’t their usual scene. And her dreams . . . they were dark and disturbing and somehow in her mind she had linked them with this place. Even though she’d never been inside the club.

Something brushed by her, skating down her arm. It was a black feather from the raven, which had just flown off the branch. Goose bumps sprang up and she shivered. Her body tingled where it had touched her. She felt warm—aroused.

“Hey, look, the line’s moving,” Rowan announced.

Within five minutes they were standing before a brute of a bouncer who scowled and looked them up and down as he took their tickets. “You’re VIP,” the bouncer muttered as he unhooked the velvet rope and waved them through. “Sign in, name and phone number. Then take the stairs and turn right. Mr. Macdonald will show you where to go from there.”

“Cool!” Rowan squealed as they entered the club and scribbled their name on a clipboard. “It’s even better than I thought.”

The doors suddenly shut behind them, creaking on the old rusted hinges. Inside, neon blue and pink beams of light flickered over the dance floor, illuminating the gyrating dancers. The music was loud . . . pulsing . . . the techno beat hard and heavy. In the shadowed corners were shimmery fabrics in fuchsia and black. The furniture had a Victorian Gothic vibe that reminded Mairi of an old burlesque club. Only it wasn’t occupied by men in tuxes and ladies wearing feather boas. The clientele at Velvet Haven were in leather and PVC. Mohawks and piercings and long
Matrix
-like coats replaced the tuxes. There were cyber Goths wearing their silver wigs and metallic costumes, as well as those creepy Babydolls who dressed like little girls and walked around sucking their thumbs. Some Metal Heads were holed up in a corner, their leather jackets covered in spikes, their necks adorned with dog collars. A group of women dressed in long black gowns that looked like something out of the Victorian age floated past them. One of them had two little puncture holes on her throat with two drops of blood dripping from the openings.

Against a wall filled with gilt mirrors, the DJ was spinning records, his shoulder-length black hair streaked with electric blue dye, his arms bulging with muscles and tats. He was at least six feet five and the expression on his face was beyond intense.

“Oh my God,” Rowan gasped, looking at the DJ. “That’s
him
! The Tarot Guy.”

Mairi swung her gaze to the wall to check out the man who came into Rowan’s New Age boutique on a weekly basis. She got an eyeful, all right. In the reflection of one of the mirrors behind the DJ was a couple making out, the guy’s hand steadily moving down the woman’s belly, only to escape beneath the waist of his date’s black leather skirt. Beside them, another couple watched eagerly as they fondled themselves.

Holy shit! Just what the hell had they walked into? What was this place, some sort of fetish club?

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mairi yelled over the loud music. Rowan nodded, swallowing hard as she watched the couple in the mirror. The man was now sinking to his knees.

“Rowan, who exactly is this guy who gave you the tickets?” Mairi’s eyes widened to three times their normal size as she watched the guy shoulder his way between the woman’s thighs, his palms sliding up her fishnet stockings, lifting her skirt. Nervously, Mairi glanced around and noticed that no one else was watching the show in the mirror. Everyone else was so blasé.

“I know I have a terrible history of picking up the wrong sort of man,” Rowan said uneasily. “But I swear, Sayer is . . .” She trailed off as another guy came into the reflection of the mirror to join the busy couple. “That is . . .”

“C’mon, we’re leaving. This Sayer is obviously a twisted pervert, just like that other asshole you’ve finally gotten away from.”

“I’m not twisted. Nor am I pervert.”

Jumping, the two of them whirled around, only to find themselves looking up at a giant. A beautiful, golden giant with eyes that shimmered in the strobe lights. His beauty was beyond anything Mairi had ever seen. And his body . . . Her gaze slid over the tight black T-shirt that showcased his pecs and arms.

Obviously hard-core in the workout department.

There was something inhuman about him, he was that drop-dead gorgeous.

He smiled, a slow sensual grin that was almost hypnotic. “Welcome to Velvet Haven. We’ve been expecting you.”

“We?”
Mairi glanced back at the DJ, who was still playing music.

The man grinned and moved to the left, revealing the most dangerous, sexiest man Mairi had ever laid eyes on. When he looked at her from across the room, her entire body jolted and images flooded her brain. He was dark, brooding, intense, reminding Mairi of a black thundercloud. Menacing yet strangely fascinating.

There was a fierce storm brewing inside him. Mairi could feel it, a strange energy radiating off of him. Her body lit up like a nuclear power plant and her breasts suddenly grew heavy. She was aroused, and her arm tingled where the feather had landed on her.

Their gazes locked as he began to walk—no,
stalk
—slowly toward her through the crowd. An instant connection was made, one Mairi felt deep into her core. The way he looked at her, the way he made her insides tighten with longing was the same as her dream lover.

But this man wasn’t a fantasy; this man was flesh and blood and warmth. This was for real, and so was the desire she felt suddenly taking over.

The scent of the woman clung to his fingers. Bran hadn’t been able to resist flying past her, allowing the tip of his wing to graze her soft skin. The zap of sensation had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t expected to feel so much with only the barest of contact. In fact, his fingertips still tingled from the brief brush of her arm.

He could still smell her, despite the scent of cigarettes, booze, and sweating bodies. As overpowering as those scents were to him, the woman’s was still more powerful. As sweet as the apple blossoms, but spiced with something more exotic. She smelled of woman, and sex, and the unmistakable pungent odor of unease.

She was perceptive, this female, her instincts keen and clear. Yet she buried them, hiding them beneath a suffocating layer of disbelief and rationalization.
Mortal thinking
, he thought with disgust. It had been many centuries since humans believed in the Otherworld. As much as he despised their narrowed vision, Bran counted himself fortunate that the humans didn’t see past their own kind. If they did, he’d have more to worry about than keeping Annwyn safe from within. He’d have humans to keep out.

He did not need mortals creeping about his world, causing havoc and mayhem. They would not understand magick, or Annwyn. And when humans didn’t understand, when they feared something they could not explain, their natural inclination was to destroy.

As king of the Sidhe it was his duty to protect Annwyn and its secrets. And to do that he needed to lie with a human female to sustain his magic. A bitch of an irony, but there was nothing to be done about the Legacy Curse now. He needed this woman.

“The two of you better be keeping your noses clean tonight.”

The gruff voice of Rhys MacDonald stopped Bran and he turned and faced his cousin. That this human was part-Sidhe burned him every time he thought it. His uncle had been a fool to give up his throne and his powers for a mere human. To know his uncle’s essence swam in the veins of this mortal made Bran feel savage.

“What are you up to, Raven? And it’s not your usual sex fest.”

“Nothing you need concern yourself over.”

“Don’t bother to hide it. I already know about the bodies that have shown up in Annwyn.”

“The Shadow Wraith, no doubt. He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

Rhys shrugged. “He doesn’t need to tell me things. We’re connected. I already knew of the killings before he told me.”

“You’re an abomination,” Bran spat with disgust. “Your bond with your wraith is unnatural.”

“Screw you, Raven.” Rhys took a step closer to him. “If you’ve come here looking for revenge, you can sheath your talons. The murders didn’t happen in my club.”

“No, just beneath it.”

Rhys’ gaze narrowed. “That’s your domain, King. I haven’t gone near that door since you put the spell on it. You can look to your own kind for the murders.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Bran growled impatiently.

“And I thought you came to get your rocks off.”

Bran felt his lips curl with rage. “Stay out of my business, MacDonald, or you’ll wish you had.”

“Is that right?” Rhys snorted, straightening his stance as if he were getting ready for a fight. “While you’re here, in
my
club, you’ll watch yourself. I’m not going to allow you two to interfere with my livelihood. No cops, no magick, and no trouble, you got that? You might be king back there,” he gritted out as he pointed to the wooden door that led to the Cave of Cruachan, “but in my club,
I’m
the boss.”

“I’m only here thanks to
your
great-great-grandfather. If he hadn’t left our world to fuck a human, believe me, neither would I.”

MacDonald stiffened at the affront, his violet eyes narrowing dangerously. He was mostly mortal, true, but Bran knew he could fight like the devil, and just as dirty, too.

“As I wasn’t around a hundred and seventy years ago, I’m not taking responsibility for your curse. It’s not my problem Daegan found the women of my species more pleasing than the Sidhe. I know what brings you here, Raven. Now get your fix and do your investigating, but keep a low profile. There’re a couple of undercovers here tonight, so watch what you’re doing and who you’re screwing.”