I Only Have Fangs For You

CHAPTER 5

"Hey, this isn't my drink."

Wilhelmina stopped midstep and turned back to the table surrounded by a mixture of humans and what she suspected, if the men's sizes were any indication, alpha werewolves. The huge, heavily muscled man who'd spoken to her gestured to his drink. The cocktail on the table in front of him was pink with cherries and a purple umbrella. Definitely not the kind of drink a burly lycanthrope would order.

She quickly picked the glass up and placed it back on her full tray. She frowned at the drinks, guessing his was the pint of porter.

She carefully placed the dark beer before him and waited, hoping she'd guessed right. She had. He nodded and lifted the drink to his mouth, swallowing half the beer in one gulp.

She smiled stiffly and headed off to deliver more drinks, guessing at all of them, because her thoughts were not on her job but on the fact that she had again bungled her sabotage attempt. Why was she so clueless? Of course, if she understood herself and her kind better, she would have known about this.

If you do it right. Suddenly Lizzie's comment made sense. Lizzie had known how the rats would react. Wilhelmina obviously hadn't. But she should have guessed that the released rats would just run, leaving the nightclub altogether.

Equally as pathetic as her own ignorance was the fact that rodents had more sense than the humans she was trying to help. But the rats hadn't been told from birth that things that went bump in the night weren't real. They functioned solely on instinct. Not a bad thing.

She paused at her next table, trying to recall what the patrons here had ordered. Was it the wines or the beers?

Finally, after much debate, she just asked them. They told her the beers, which she placed before them and then moved along toward the next table.

"Can you believe that someone called the health department on the club?"

Wilhelmina stopped and turned to see Greta, one of her coworkers, standing beside her. Greta was all that a vampiress was supposed to be: beautiful, graceful, and seductive. Her Swedish splendor only enhanced by her undeath. But tonight, her ever-present, beguiling smile was missing.

"No," Wilhelmina finally said, trying to mimic Greta's amazed expression.

"Thank God they didn't find anything," the tall blonde said, hints of her Swedish origins lilting her words. "I can't afford to be without this job."

She leaned closer to Wilhelmina. "I need the money, and this is the only place I know of in the city where my secret is absolutely safe. It's not easy to be what we are and find a good job."

Greta sighed, then glided away to take a drink order from a table of mortals, the males and females alike watching her approach with appreciative fascination.

Wilhelmina stared at her for a second. Then her gaze moved to Crystal, another stunning vampiress who also waited tables. Then to Charlie, a lean handsome vampire who carried a huge tray high over his head. Constantine, a large Greek werewolf, held a post at the top of the upper level of the club, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching to be sure no violence erupted in the club below. David, or Dr. No as he called himself, a short thin human danced behind the large stereo system, a padded earphone pressed to one ear as he lined up the next song, which would begin as soon as the current dance song faded away.

There were at least twenty-five or more employees working tonight. All of them, with the exception of Dr. No, a preternatural of one kind or another. And Dr. No was so different, he didn't even seem quite human.

For the first time, she considered that these individuals, despite their preternatural fate, needed their jobs. They counted on them.

Disgust filled her that she'd never considered that fact when she was planning her attacks on the club. She should have. After all, she was no longer the sheltered, naive heiress, who didn't understand the ways of the real world. That was long gone. But she'd been so intent on stopping Sebastian that she'd lumped her coworkers together with him and his purpose for this club, when they were really just here for a job. Here to survive.

How had she overlooked that fact? Was she so focused on seeing this place closed and mortals saved that she was willing to hurt those of her own kind?

Not only that, she liked her coworkers. Even though she so obviously didn't fit into this place, they had accepted her. Perhaps it was because she was a vampire, but maybe it was something more. She didn't know. But she had intended to interrupt, and ultimately destroy, their source of livelihood.

"Hey," a man at the table a few feet away from her called. "Are those our drinks?"

She blinked down at the forgotten tray balanced in her hands, then nodded.

"Sorry," she said as she placed their drinks before them. This table was all vampires. Hungry vampires. Their need heavily scented the air, made it almost pulse.

She quickly stepped away from the table, their hunger making her skin crawl. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood up, and she shivered. Suddenly she remembered that kind of intense, frightening hunger focused on her. And the pain that followed.

She hurried on, not looking at them again.

They were the preternatural patrons that needed to be stopped, she realized, not Carfax Abbey's hardworking staff. But she didn't know how to do that.

She was still debating what could work, when she paused at her next table. All that was left on her tray were several froufrou pink cocktails with cherries and umbrellas like the one she'd tried to give the wolf. She cast a cursory glance at the booth, realizing it was occupied by young, giggly, and scantily clad mortals. These drinks had to be theirs.

She began to set the hourglass-shaped stemware on the table, when several of the ladies began to call, "Sebastian!"

Wilhelmina closed her eyes for a moment.

Great, he was coming this way. She hadn't seen him after the health inspectors had left and she hoped that he was gone for the night. No such luck.

"Good evening," he said as he reached the table, and Wilhelmina could have sworn he'd used just a hint of Transylvanian accent when he said it.

The women began to crowd together in the semicircular booth, making room for him to join them, which he did. The women's elation flooded around Wilhelmina, their desire like a heady, too sweet perfume. For a moment their emotions overwhelmed her, making her feel disoriented.

Then Sebastian turned his smile on her, and she could only focus on that lopsided curve of his pouty lips.

"Hi," Sebastian said to her. "Would you please bring these lovely ladies another round on me, and I'd like a scotch, straight up."

Wilhelmina watched as he turned his attention back to the mortals, flashing them that same sexy, lopsided grin. Although she noticed his intense eyes darkened as he admired them. Then his hunger flared so powerfully, Wilhelmina had to step back. But unlike her reaction to the other vampires' hunger from earlier, something else mingled with her disgust. Something that made her knees tremble and skin feel hot.

Suddenly she realized all of them were staring at her, puzzled by the fact that she was still there, gaping. She forced herself to move back to the table and clear away the empty glasses and napkins that littered the glossy black tabletop.

"Betty, it's good to see you again," Sebastian said, returning his attention to the ladies.

The brunette next to him giggled. "It's Becky."

"Right, Becky," he said, and Wilhelmina wasn't overly shocked to see the woman readily forgive the mistake.

"And Gina." He grinned at the girl across from him. "I thought you were moving back to Boston."

The blonde laughed, which made her impressively large breasts jiggle and threaten to spill over the top of her tight beaded top.

"Nina," she corrected with no annoyance in her voice, even after he'd just confused her friend's name. "And I was planning to move back to Boise."

"Of course," he said with no embarrassment or remorse in his voice.

Wilhelmina had the feeling these mix-ups were a very common occurrence. After all, what did Sebastian really care about these women? They were nothing more than entertainment and dinner. And that was if they were lucky.

Although, she thought bitterly, most people could remember the name of their favorite meal.

Suddenly her irritation with his cavalier behavior was too much. For the first time since she'd met him, Wilhelmina did something clumsy that she fully intended. As she picked up another empty glass, she clanked the stem against Becky's full cocktail. The glass soared over and pink liquid splashed down the front of Sebastian's pale blue designer shirt.

Sebastian jumped up as what appeared to be a mai tai with extra cherries soaked into the material of his shirt and the crotch of his trousers.

The women in the booth handed him their drink napkins as he attempted to pat away the worst of the spill.

"Oh no," Wilhelmina said, "I'm so sorry."

Sebastian looked up from the wet splotches to see something akin to a smirk on Wilhelmina's lips. As soon as she realized he was looking, the smile faded into an expression of innocent dismay.

But Sebastian knew what he'd seen.

"Excuse me, ladies," he said and slipped out of the booth. Before Wilhelmina could step back from him, he caught her wrist and tugged her along with him.

He felt her struggling, and he also noticed a few patrons watching them, but that didn't slow him down, nor did it cause him to release her. Out of the corner of his eye, he even noticed Constantine, one of his bouncers, starting down the stairs toward them. But once the giant bouncer realized it was Sebastian, he stopped and returned to his post.

So he was making a scene. The truth was-he didn't care. He'd had enough of this klutzy, strange, and altogether distracting (in a bad way, he asserted to himself) vampiress.

Not to mention, this had already been a thoroughly unpleasant night. He'd had to deal with the health inspectors, which had been downright ludicrous. And dangerous. He worked hard not to give anyone a reason to question anything about this place. Now, twice in one week, the authorities had been called here.

One of his main concerns was always to keep Carfax Abbey on the right side of the law. That kept the law out of the club, which allowed the preternaturals who worked and patronized Carfax Abbey to remain safe.

He was equally religious about the security of his human patrons. Which was why he had so many bouncers and cameras stationed all around the club's bars, dancefloors, and exits. If an incident happened, which was rare, it was dealt with internally. But overall, he'd been lucky. The preternaturals that came here understood the rules and followed them. And keeping on the good side of the law and other officials had served him well and kept everyone safe.

The health inspectors had found nothing in the club to question and left feeling the caller's claims had been ridiculous. Just as the police had. But having two anonymous calls in a week to officials was too unusual to be a coincidence. That made him nervous.

And this clumsy waitress was the last straw of the evening.

He tugged her into the employee lounge. Valerie, one of his cocktail waitresses, stood in front of her opened locker, reapplying her ever-present deep red lipstick. When she saw Sebastian's expression, her eyes flashed between him and Wilhelmina. She swiftly tossed her lipstick back into her locker and shut the door, with a sharp, metallic clang.

She didn't speak as she passed, but Sebastian noticed she gave Wilhelmina a worried look as she left the room.

Sebastian frowned. He was hardly an ogre. Then he turned to look at the hand he had clamped around Wilhelmina's delicate wrist. She stared up at him, her eyes wide behind the lenses of her glasses. For the first time, he realized her eyes were blue, the deepest blue he'd ever seen, like a dark midnight sky.

And they were frightened. He now sensed that fear like a glacial chill snaking down his spine.

He dropped her wrist, suddenly feeling regretful of his abrupt behavior. As soon as she was released, she took several steps back from him, rubbing her wrist, those wary blue eyes watching him.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling more guilt course through him. He wasn't usually an easily angered person. He'd made an art of being laid-back and carefree, but the events of the past few days had made him tense. Hell, forget cops and health inspectors, and anonymous callers, she made him tense.

He watched her, hoping she'd say something. She didn't. Instead she frowned down at her wrist. More guilt rushed through him.

"I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he said.

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed quietly. She still stared at her wrist.

"Listen," he said, stepping toward her. Her head snapped up at his approach, and she stumbled backward, keeping the same distance between them. Fear shot from her like warning flares, making the air snap with the emotion.

Sebastian frowned, but then stepped back himself. He didn't understand her extreme reaction, but he didn't want to scare her any more than he already had. His behavior had been bad and he was more than a little irritated with himself at his lack of control. But he didn't think it merited the kind of fear that surrounded them.

"Please forgive my rude behavior. I overreacted. It's been a rather stressful night, but I shouldn't take out my strain on you."

She didn't respond and continued to stare at her wrist. Her fingers played over the spot, caressing the place where his hand had touched her, as if to rub away pain. Suddenly he remembered the feeling of her skin against his. Its soft, velvety texture.

He pushed the memory away, trying instead to see if he'd hurt her. Despite his brusque behavior, he didn't think he'd grabbed her that roughly. Not to mention, vampires did not injure easily. He couldn't see any marks or redness marring the unusual paleness of her skin. Even the scratches he'd seen earlier were gone.

He paused, staring at the back of her hands.

"What's your cat's name?" he asked suddenly.

Wilhelmina's gaze snapped up to meet his. "What?"

"Your cat? What's its name?"

"Spot," she said without pause, but Sebastian could see more uneasiness in her eyes.

He couldn't tell if her uneasiness was over his question or just over him. Her expression certainly didn't reveal if his sudden suspicions were founded-that she was the one making the calls to law enforcement about his club.

Scratches weren't much of a lead. But then she had also set off the sprinkler, he knew that for a fact. Had that been another attempt to damage his business? Had she brought rats into the club?

He studied her, trying to see or sense something that would either validate or deny his thoughts. He found nothing. Just a small vampiress with the darkest blue eyes and palest skin he'd ever seen. And again, he was struck by the word Nadine used to describe her. Lost. At the moment, she seemed very lost.

Before he thought better of it, he touched her pale cheek.

"Spot? Good name."

She remained perfectly still under his touch. Again, he felt a prickling of fear around her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly, certain that he must have for her to be so scared of him. Even now.

She shook her head, causing his fingers to rub against her smooth skin. Wisps of her black hair, which had escaped one of the messy knots on the top of her head, tickled the back of his fingers.

Sebastian swallowed as overwhelming desire rocketed through him, sudden and intense and as unexpected as a landmine. He frowned, telling himself the need rippling over his skin and tightening his groin was just an inappropriate reaction to stress, just as dragging her through the crowded bar had been.

He told himself that several times, but he couldn't manage to stop touching her. Skin against skin, moving in gentle strokes. He wondered how her pale skin would feel against his body, and what her fingers would feel like touching him in return.

He dropped his hand from her cheek. Just moments before, he'd been seriously considering this woman might be the one who'd placed the anonymous calls. Now, he was thinking about…

No, he wasn't going there again.

Instead he focused on his drink-splattered clothes. The pink liquid had turned the front of his blue shirt an unappealing puce-y color.

"Well, I've only known you for two days, and twice I've ended up soaking wet."

Her gaze moved from his face to his shirt. Then drifted slowly downward to the wet splotch darkening his trousers.

He felt himself react as her gaze lingered. He shifted, and her eyes snapped back up to his, the fear flaring again around them. But there was something else, barely perceptible under the sharp emotion.

"You aren't soaked," she said, her voice a little breathy.

His body reacted to the sexy sound, but he told himself to ignore it. "True, I'm not as soaked as I was with the sprinkler, but now I'm sticky."

Again her gaze dropped to his crotch. Damn. If she couldn't sense he was aroused, she could sure as hell see it. He shifted again, and her eyes returned to her wrist, her fingers touching that same spot.

Despite his better judgment, he reached for her again. She went rigid under his touch, but she didn't pull away. Neither did he. His fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his thumb brushing the corner of her red mouth. He tested the soft curve of her full bottom lip, wondered how her lips would feel against his. Would they be sweet like ripe berries?

More emotions crackled around them, but he couldn't read them. She didn't pull away, but she remained absolutely still, and he couldn't tell if she was enjoying his touch or not. Her emotions were too complicated, too jumbled to read. She wasn't attempting to block them, but there were simply too many of them for any one to be clear. That bothered him. He wanted to know what she was thinking, feeling.

"I-" she said, her eyes meeting his, and he hoped she'd just tell him what was going on behind her inscrutable midnight eyes. Instead, she stepped back, moving out of his reach.

"I have to get back to work," she said her voice cool, distant as if she didn't feel any of the desire he was experiencing. That really bothered him. Nearly as much as the fact that he was feeling desire. Very intense desire.

"Unless I'm fired," she said after a few moments, when he still hadn't said anything.

Sebastian considered her. She'd given him an out. A way to be rid of her. If she was involved in the calls about the club, that would be taken care of. And even if she wasn't involved in the anonymous calls, she was a pretty bad waitress. He'd fired employees who were actually better. And, and at the moment this was the thought that was really troubling him, she would be out of his sight and no longer getting under his skin. Which she was, even though he couldn't figure out why.

If she weren't here, many of his problems would be gone. Just like that.

He opened his mouth to tell her that leaving might be for the best. Then his eyes met her dark blue ones, and he was struck by the pain he saw there. Then the emotion swirled away, disappearing into bottomless depths.

Instead of the «yes» his mind had been telling him to say, his mouth said, "No. No, Wi… Mina." Again his mouth seemed to function without consulting his brain. Somehow, she did remind him of Mina in Dracula. Dark hair, fair skin, innocent, yet determined. Lost yet searching.

"You're not fired."

But the idea of keeping this Mina in Carfax Abbey didn't make him feel particularly relieved.