Chapter 8 Eight

They felt their way through the dark hallway into the change room and changed quickly into the too-short French Maid costumes, before heading towards the door behind which the music throbbed, it's beat decadent and dangerous.The club was busy.Raiden and his werewolves were not among the patrons, and there was a heavy presence of vampires aloof from the crowd of humans.

The vampires drink preference, she discovered, was red wine, and their seating choice was the VIP booths.There were human men in the booths with them, staring adoringly up at the vampires.Humans in thrall? She watched discretely but did not see the vampires drink from them.They sipped their wines, and many glasses returned still full, the drinks purchased not to be drunk but for the appearance of drinking.

The chesterfields were mainly occupied by human men.Tonight, there were no suits, it was all expensive brand-name shirts and slacks, wrists and necks flashing with jewellery and watches.And the drinks were all cocktails and whiskey, in a constant flow, the tables becoming crowded quickly with glasses, and needing constant clearing.

The stage act was a contortionist.From what Lia managed to see whilst the bartender filled her trays, she was very good, and deserved a better audience, one that actually paid attention.The humans were too busy talking amongst themselves to notice her, and it was impossible to see if the vampires watched.

Half-way through the shift, Raiden and Brock entered, pausing in the doorway to take in the chaos of the club, drawing eyes to them because of their alpha nature rather than through any deliberate act.Raiden murmured something to Brock before crossing the room to sit at the bar.

When she came to the bar for a tray, Raiden smiled at her warmly.

"Lia."

She reached out under the cover of the bar, and felt his hand meet hers, his hand warm and his grip reassuring.As if a current of energy ran between their touch, she felt her awareness of him increase, the noise of the room seeming to dim.She could smell the smoked lavender and citrus scent of him, see the shift in the shirt he wore as he breathed, the way the fabric strained against the muscles of his arm and the lights caught in his hair.The skin of his cheeks would be smooth against hers and scented by soap, she thought, as he had shaved before coming, the stubble temporarily tamed beneath his skin.

She wanted to press her body against his, and breath in the scent of his skin.

"Raiden," she smiled back, pressing the rising desire down firmly.

They held hands, hidden from the sight of the room, until her tray was loaded.

"I have to…" She murmured and felt him release her.

She checked the tab and took the tray to VIP booth one.

She had the opportunity during the night to distinguish between the types of vampires.The younger made-vampires were more human in manner, more up-to-date in dress and speech, but were lacking the refinement and dignity of those raised in the aristocratic vampire families with centuries of etiquette and wealth polishing their mannerisms, their eyes wise, and their expressions more restrained than the newer vampires.

Elior was in booth one with a party of other vampires, in the majority born-vampires by her judgement and the family rings proudly worn on their smallest fingers."Lia," he greeted her, his voice smooth and dignified, holding the echoes of times past.

She wondered how old he was.According to her magic book, vampires could live for centuries, indefinitely really, as long as they had a steady supply of human blood.Their ends most often came due to misadventure.Vampires were stronger, faster, and healed quicker than humans, but if they experienced enough bodily trauma and blood loss, they would die, just like a human.

"Elior," she avoided meeting his eyes as she exchanged new wine glasses for old.She wondered why they bothered ordering rounds, many of the glasses were untouched."A busy night."

"Yes.The next act is quite popular," Elior replied."Lia and her friend, Paris, are both ballet dancers," he said to his companions."Perhaps in time they will grace our stage.I prefer ballet dancers as waitresses when I can get them," he added."They are not afraid of hard work, and do not complain."

He did not seem inclined to continue talking to her, so she returned with a tray almost identical to the one she had taken.As she slid her tray onto the bar, she imagined that she could feel the warmth of Raiden against her side, although he sat just enough away from her that she knew it was impossible.

"Be wary of the booths," Raiden murmured, that magic of alphas making his words clearly audible.

"Yes." She knew he could hear her response over the music, werewolves hearing much keener than humans.Perhaps a human would ask him the reason to be cautious, she thought, but it was one thing not to tell him that she could see that the men in those booths were vampires, and quite another to deliberately pretend not to know.

Raiden did not offer an explanation for his warning, perhaps for the same reason.

She took the next tray out onto the floor - table eight.

Table eight were big tippers, a jovial, flirtatious crowd.She was not as easy being professionally flirtatious as Paris' was.Her exchanges with the men at the table felt stiff and uncomfortable to her, their attention unwanted, but she knew that part of the job was to be appealing, even if she was not available.She was very aware of Raiden's watching her, although his gaze was protective rather than jealous.

One of the men at the table met her eyes significantly as he placed the tip onto the tray.She found out why when she returned to the bar.There was a card with his number on it, and a question: When does your shift end? His name was James Crichton, and he was a talent manager, according to the card.The tip was overly generous, as if he were giving an advance on the date.Paris would have pocketed it without thinking, but Lia felt as if she were being paid for something she had no intention of delivering on.

She hesitated with the card in hand, wondering what to do with it and the tip.Was it rude not to answer if she kept the tip? Should she give the tip back and not answer? She didn't want to throw the card away in the man's eyesight, nor did she want to put it into her pocket as he might see that as encouragement.A talent manager could be a way into being paid to dance, but she suspected that pursuing the opportunity this way would be an opening to be taken advantage of, rather than a career step up.

"Problem?" Raiden asked.

"A very generous tip, but with this…" She slid him the card and he picked it up, turning it over in order to read both sides, his expression mild.He reached over the bar and snagged a pen from a jar on the other side.

"Just write no thanks and drop it back to him," Raiden recommended."He is a regular and will continue trying otherwise.Keep the money - his loss.He knows the waitresses aren't available, he is just hoping because you are new you might fall for it."

She wrote the response on the card and as she returned from her next delivery, she deliberately went by him and placed the card onto the table.She avoided looking at him when she passed by next, not wanting to encourage him in any way.

She delivered the tray to one of the last booths, one that her deliveries had not brought her too.The glasses on this table were empty, although the occupants were vampires.Not young vampires, she thought, not newly made like those on the chesterfields, old enough to warrant a VIP booth, but made rather than born vampire, and able to appreciate the taste of the drinks they bought.

As she offloaded, a cool hand closed over hers.

The vampire was gorgeous, his hair so blonde it was almost white falling to just below his shoulders, his cheekbones chiselled and his eyes a vibrant blue.She could entirely understand what motivated his maker to turn him he had the sort of beauty to him that it would be impossible not to want to preserve it if a person had the power to do so as a vampire did.

He met her eyes, holding her gaze, and she felt the hair stand up across the back of her neck as he pushed with his power, the Other a flash of red caught in the shifting light of the club.

"What is your name, pretty one?" He purred, his hand stroking across the back of her hand.

"Lia," she tried to push back against whatever vampire trick he was employing against her, but felt her body become heavy and the noise of the room faded until there was only the man's eyes.He drew her closer.

"I am Lucian," the Other was a red back light to his eyes as he turned her wrist and stroked his fingers up the inside of her forearm, the sensation of his touch lingering on the sensitive skin."When you finish tonight, you will come to me.We will become good friends, you and I, will we not? I bet you taste as sweet as you look.I can show you pleasures you can only imagine…"

"Lucian," Elior appeared suddenly at her side, his hand closing over Lucian's wrist.The blonde man snarled, revealing his sharp canines and pre-molars."It is ridiculously hard to find good waitresses.If they work for me, consider them otherwise unavailable."

Lucian released her.The headache was swift and savage, and she leaned against the table dizzy.A power backlash, she thought.She had felt it before as a child when she had first learnt to use her magic.

"You have exquisite taste in waitresses, Elior," the blonde vampire replied mildly."A taste I happen to share."