Page 57 of Born Reckless
“Tonight seems like a good night to die,” Mason growls as he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
Mason stumbles forward as Elena smacks him upside the back of his head.
“You said you were butting out!” Mason bellows at her as he turns around and walks backward.
“Only if you two stop being disgusting in front of me,” she barks with a glare.
“Shh,” I say as I lean in, pressing my finger to Mason’s lips. “We’ve been given a gift by the goddess. Best not to push your luck.”
Mason smirks at me and turns around, tucking my arm into his.
“Thanks for being my date tonight,” Elena says from behind us. “I know I can always count on you, Warren.”
“Any time,” he says, but he sounds nervous. No surprises there. He always sounds nervous.
He looks great though. He wears a suit that makes him look more grown-up. Considering Sigrid had him when she was fifteen, I think that makes him about twenty-four. I find a few of her features in him, mostly the shape of their eyes, and the slant of their lips, but he must look like his sperm donor most.
Seeing him and Elena standing arm in arm is kind of comical. She’s the deadly viper of the business world, and he’s the timid bunny with the magical tracking blood.
My eyes rise to the glowing red sign above the doors as we approach.
ROMAN NIGHTS.
Please. Could he be any more arrogant?
“I can’t believe Roman De Luca owns his own nightclub,” I say as we walk up to the bouncer. There’s a line of humans stretching down the block waiting to get in, but all we have to do is flash our roses and the man waves us in.
“Roman’s first love might be beating people to a bloody pulp, but all of the security tax goes to his employees,” Mason says.
Security tax? That’s new information.
We step into a hallway. It’s kind of… sexy. The walls are covered with this textured surface that’s shiny and looks like snake’s skin. All of the lighting is blood red. Could he be any more on the nose? “He doesn’t take any of it for himself. He opened this club twelve years ago as a way to generate income. A lot of his crew work here as well. From what I hear, the pay is good, and the club is always packed.”
He speaks the truth. Even here in the entry hallway, there are way too many people. And then we step into the main area and the energy rises off the charts.
There must be over three hundred people in this space alone. The ceiling rises high and as I look up, I see three railings circling this area, indicating three levels of balconies. Neon lights run in every direction, casting the entire space in red. It’s a hypnotic sprint of color through the space, reflecting off those snakeskin walls.
The music blasts loud and sultry. A DJ stands on a stage in front of the crowd. She’s wearing a ridiculously large set of headphones, though only one of her ears is covered. She has a complex setup in front of her, and she bobs her head in time with the beat.
And once I take in the surface stuff, I start noticing the details of what sets this place apart from any other nightclub.
Not only are they serving alcohol and sodas at the bar, they’re also serving blood. Couples aren’t just making out in dark corners, fangs pierce flesh. I see one man whose eyes glow purple and a woman whose hands grow black as she rubs them up a man’s chest.
As Elena said, no one hides anything in this club. And the population seems to be thirty-percent vampire. I can’t tell the difference between humans and the gifted, but I would wager that half of those who seem human to me are more than just human.
“If it isn’t the golden triad.”
His voice makes its way down my spine like an ice-cold finger. The smile that was beginning to take over my face instantly dies a swift death.
I turn, letting go of Mason’s arm.
And I nearly stop breathing when my eyes snap to him.
Roman De Luca stands there with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a black pair of slacks and a black sports coat. He wears a black button-up shirt, but it’s only buttoned halfway up. His hair is wild, and half of it falls into his face. And the steel cold in those blue eyes? He looks like a villainous wet dream.
“Not tonight, Roman,” Elena growls. “I was hoping you’d be out tonight.”
“This is my club,” he responds. “And it’s a Friday night.”