He’d found them. The man and his dark witch. Grimfaced, Cian followed and brushed by the bouncer. The vampire’s one eye widened, the orb a rich mahogany in the pale face. He licked his canines and growled, “Whatever you be, keep to the code, creature.” The threat of malice hung in the air like the sharp tip of a blade poised for the kill.
Cian chuckled, amused by the taste of the vamps fear on his tongue. Predators always had a sixth sense when another, more powerful predator was around. An idea that settled like lead in the gut and instantly turned them feral, making them more dangerous for their unpredictability.
The vampire growled and fisted his hands tight to his side. A dark green vein in his lily-white neck pulsed like the angry beat of a heart. This was a dangerous time, as a predator he could show no weakness. In order to stave off a fight, Cian had to become the alpha, the more dominant and powerful of the two.
He pulled his hand from his pocket, exposing the skeletal appendage. The bouncer stiffened. Cian pointed his finger at the blond vampire. The penetrating chill of hoarfrost shot from his hand into the air, circling the vamps head. Death’s mark. The vampire sucked in a shaky breath as his crimson stained lips turned a pale shade of blue. A dark trickle of blood slid from his nose.
“Move aside.”
The vampire moved, stumbling over his stool in his haste. Cian shoved his hand back into his pocket and resumed following the scent of his witch, ignoring the fury-filled stare boring into his back.
It was ten ‘til midnight.
He walked along the medieval stairwell at a sedate pace, pausing to enjoy the antiquated finery. The allure of the club was in its décor. Black, iron chandeliers hung from rafters. Heavy, crimson tapestries adorned the walls, depicting grisly scenes of death, men transforming to beasts, witches gazing into cauldrons filled with bubbling brews. The low yellow radiance cast the stairwell in a sickly light, adding shadow to hollows and turning faces into nightmarish masks of ghouls.
There were four floors to the club, each divided by species. First the vampires, second the witches, third the Weres, and fourth the mixed flock. Yeah, he’d been here a couple times. Mainly to scout out a potential victim, but sometimes simply for the enjoyment of hanging out with creatures that didn’t know what he was. There was a certain solace in anonymity.
Her scent wound up past the first level and into the second. He pushed open the arched wooden doorway and scanned the dancing, shifting bodies of wizards, warlocks, and witches. Scattered throughout was an occasional human or two, but of his dark witch he could not find. He lifted his nose and tracked her unique perfume.
Her scent was a golden wash of color throughout the room. His heart picked up in speed the nearer he came. There was an allure to the witch he’d never before known. It was a burning desire to believe she’d actually seen him. That it hadn’t been his imagination, that for once in his life he wouldn’t be so easily forgotten.
He found her in a dark corner of the club. She was alone, gazing at a floor length mirror affixed to the wall and applying a dark shade of lip-gloss.
Five minutes ‘til midnight.
His heart tripped in his chest at the sight she made. The mass of black curls spilling down her back, her ivory skin sparkling with tints of pink and green glitter, and the tight fit of her violet corset top. A gothic rose standing out amongst the thorns.
He took a step closer. What would she think if she saw him? He looked at himself standing so close to her in the mirror. Would she find the neon blue of his eyes shocking, or would she lose herself in them as she did her human male? What would it feel like to be gazed at with something other than scorn? To be loved? Desired?
He blinked the strange desires away. Turn it off. Don’t feel. Don’t want. Never. Not ever. He was reaper. Killer. Here to do his job. Nothing more, nothing less.
Two minutes ‘til midnight.
A heated argument between two witches, over a male they both desired, broke out on the dance floor. No one noticed yet, but he knew. That was part of his skill. He’d always know what, when, where, and how his victims would die. And this was how she was meant to go. An unfortunate casualty to another’s greed and lust.
The words were quickly escalating to something wild and heated and with it a simmering threat of violence. Dancers nearest the women began to notice and take pause.
A few cleared the floor. His dark witch was still unaware.
She slipped the lip-gloss back into the velvet drawstring purse on her wrist and like a flame to flesh he felt her. Her gaze, it was on him. On his face. She smiled and whispered, “hello”.
A physical warmth spread through his body with rocketing speed. He couldn’t rip his gaze from hers. Transfixed by her gentle beauty. As if her smile was connected to the center of his being, and for a brief moment in time, the darkness inside him washed away at the beauty of it. In her exotic golden gaze he read the truth.