My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 08

He perked up, and smirked as he reached for some coffee grounds. That Jessy woman had said she'd take care of that for him; and, despite himself, he believed her. This random stranger, who really seemed like nothing more than a horny woman, a bit younger than him, trying to show off her attitude, had something to her he couldn't dismiss. He felt it from her, from the other tiny girl, and even the redhead; something different from her, but something similar too. Not that it meant they were trustworthy, but he couldn't dismiss the feeling that she wasn't bullshitting him. And they'd known who Montoya Montel was too.

It was a nice change of pace. People bullshitting him was as common as breathing, back when he was a professional. Hopefully that trend in his life was over, or at least abated.

He went through his usual routine. Scooped the cat litter, drank some coffee, ate some shit food, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got Kat some fresh food, and then started the new routine. First, a treat in her food while he went to put on his suit. And then, once he was changed, a laser pointer to keep her at a distance and cat hair away from his suit. Another treat in her food bowel — poor girl was going to die young and fat at this rate — and then out the door while she was distracted.

Time for another night of standing around, surrounded by sex and drugs and money and everything in between.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lovely sound of pulsing music and pulsing hearts. Ugh.

He stood in a corner, and tried to keep to himself. Ganders wanted him to socialize, but tonight, socializing wasn't feeling like too good an idea. Which, as Ganders predicted, seemed to invite the attention of a certain clientele. Single women, and the occasional man, sought his attention, tried to engage in conversation with him, and the more he tried to tell them to go away without quite saying that, the more interested they became.

So tonight he tried staying in the dark, and just watch.

The four people came in again, the two men and two women, each with eyes glancing around, reading the environment, the people around them, like any dangerous animal would. And as he stared at them, he adopted an innocent stance, pretended he wasn't watching them; at least, not watching them anymore than the rest of the club. They glanced his way, he offered the same semi-nod he offered everyone, and he turned his head to watch randoms, while keeping them in the corner of his eye. These four were not like the others, and he needed to watch them.

The other bouncers didn't notice. He could see they were watching the more obvious dangers, the big guys who got handsy, the women who leaned toward their purse like they might have something in there that wasn't legal or safe, and all the people who crept around more than was normal. It was a hard job, spotting those subtle nuances, when everyone at Bloodlust was all over each other, and everyone was at least some degree of sneaky, shady, or drunk.

But these four were different. All the others, every one of them, he could safely slot into his mind as not a threat; maybe annoying, but not a threat. The four though, with the jackets, the scars, the way they walked, the way they watched people in the corner of their eye without actually looking at them, like Eric did, these four were most definitely a threat.

And yet, they did nothing. Hell they didn't stick around for very long. They made some hand motions, subtle, mostly near their hips or when their hands were resting on tables, and the others picked up on it without ever moving their head to directly stare at the movements. Always about subtlety with these four, the sort of people who didn't just have things to hide, but were very practiced in hiding them.

He could smell the strange smells again. Metal working, wood, odd smells that didn't belong to Dolareido, that didn't mix in with the smell of life and alcohol. How he knew what smells didn't belong to Dolareido, he had no fucking idea, but the instinct was there, in his mind, screaming for him to notice. These people didn't belong, and they were dangerous. And, he could only relax once they were gone.

He sighed as they left, and forced himself to breathe. Just breathe, in, out, relax.

Five minutes later, Fiona came in, and his muscles tensed all over again. She wasn't wearing the same green dress as last time, and instead opted for a white tank top and black pants. It might have been a bit boring, if not for her vibrant red frizzy hair, and the large breasts filling the top.

This place really was doing a number on his brain. Half the time he was looking for threats, the other half the time he was doing his best to push down his sex drive.

Fiona looked around, and around, and then around some more. When her eyes found him, she grinned, waved, and hopped over through the dancing and bumping bodies, past the drinks and fondling and dance floor.

"Eric!"

"... hello."

And like they were friends, best buds, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a nearby empty booth.

"Eric! Have ye seen Jack?"

"... Jack?"

"Jack! Wee lad, buzzed head, adorable. Oft has a very tall woman on his arm."

Little guy, buzzed head, tall woman? Didn't ring any bells.

"Oh... wait."

"What, what what!?"

"The manager mentioned the woman. White hair?"

"Aye!"

"Mentioned her, said she was to be given her space and treated with respect. That was it. I've never seen them though." Plenty of types came into Bloodlust. Short, tall, small guys with tall girls, small girls with tall guys, and everything in between. But the manager had been pretty insistent about this super tall girl with white hair. Stay out of her way, or you get canned.

"Oh... damn it." She whined, threw up her hands, and grabbed his wrist. "I have to find him! Everyone's looking for him! Damien said there were these four folk, and they might have taken him. And—"

"Four people?"

"Aye! Two men, two women." She scratched her head a few times as she thought about it. Girl wore her thoughts on her sleeve, like her emotions. "One dark skin, two with tan skin, one with white skin, I think he said. Some scars on them too."

Yeah, that was them. He winced, and looked out to the crowd, to the jumping people, to the numbing sound of the heartbeat music. Tell her? Not tell her?

He took a moment to look at the panicked girl beside him. Yeah, those four people were dangerous, with edge that screamed hidden knife. As a fighter, he knew to fear the quiet guy who could look you in the eye. The loud ones were all talk, and the ones that couldn't maintain eye contact were pushovers, but it was the quiet ones that stood their ground that got his skin crawling and adrenaline jacked. Those four sent the same chills along his skin and up his spine, got him looking for when one of them would strike out, like a quiet snake waiting for the right moment.

And then there was Fiona. Bubbly, silly, ridiculous, curvy little Fiona. Fiona that looked so delightful and innocent, and fun. Fiona that made him want to avoid the shadows, afraid she was hiding in them, ready to rip out his innards. He couldn't tell why, couldn't see why, couldn't smell or hear or notice anything about her that made him think she was dangerous; and yet, he knew she was. Her friends Jessy and Natasha were dangerous as well, in the way a prowling, hunting animal was, and that was a danger he could understand. Not sure why they were dangerous either, but it was clear to see in their movements, their stances, the way they looked at people, that they were dangerous too. Christ, so many people he wouldn't have noticed before, and now they were sticking out like sore thumbs.

But with Fiona, every instinct he had told him she was more than dangerous. She was terrifying.

She raised a brow at him. He wasn't talking, he was thinking, and staring into the crowd. And he wasn't breathing. Just breathe. He forced his lungs to move, and looked down at her.

"Ye do that dark and brooding thing very well," she said.

"... takes practice." A stupid little joke.

Stupid little joke worked. She erupted into laughter, and pat him on the arm. "Ye dobber!"

He tried to smile, but it didn't work. Tell her, not tell her, tell her, not tell her. God, what the fuck happened? In just several days he'd gone from driving a taxi, to being surrounded by sex, drugs, bad music, and the sort of people he was sure were doing crazy shit by moonlight. And, as for moonlight, he was going out of his god damn fucking mind, and the moon was haunting him every dream, every nightmare. And for the fucking life of him, he could not stop this overwhelming urge to... to who fucking knows what. Something with ripping, tearing, biting.

"Ye're doing it again."

"Sorry, just... I have seen those four."

"Oh? Tell me, tell me!"

"Just ten minutes ago."

"Perfect! Let's follow them!"

"... I'm working. And my shift just started." The night was very young.

"Yer boss wulnae mind!"

"... and they're long gone by now, how do you expect me to find them?"

Fiona raised a brow in confusion, but soon raised both as realization dawned on her face. No what idea what she was realizing, but it had her scooting in closer on the booth seat, and leaning in to whisper.

"Ye dinnae ken, do ye?"

"... know what?"

"What's happening to ye."

He drew his head back, frowned, and glanced around. "Nothing's happening to me."

She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. "Come on! Ye can tell me. Avery must have... must have... have nae talked to ye, has she? Does she even ken who ye are?"

He stared at her. Avery? What?

"Fiona I don't—"

"I shouldnae intervene! Nope. Nope nope nope. But... but I need to find Jack." She leaned in closer, and reached to pull down on his shoulder until his ear was to her lips. "Help me and I'll tell ye why ye feel different. Why ye're... why ye want to hunt things."

Hunt. Hunt was the word he was dancing around, refusing to acknowledge, keeping at a distance. He wanted to hunt. He wanted to chase something down, sink his teeth into it, rip it apart, and devour it. He wanted to know his territory, scan for threats, chase them off, and own his land. He wanted to... do the crazy shit he was seeing in his dreams.

"How do you know that?" Should have kept denying it, but she'd nailed the feeling so accurately, he couldn't just ignore it. How the fuck this girl knew what was happening to him, he couldn't imagine, but then he couldn't figure out why he was so fucking scared of her either.

At this point, he was totally mind-fucked, and this girl seemed to be the only one offering an answer.

"I'll tell ye... if ye help me follow those four."

"But I told you they're gone."

She shrugged. "Follow yer nose."

Oh god, she was serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~Author's Note~~

So much sex this chapter! I decided to dictate a large portion of this chapter to sex, because the story is going to run into some action/tension bits for a little while. It may be a few chapters at least before we see Antoinette's breasts again. :(