Revenge and the Wild(37)

“Every bloody human girl is here to see Costin. He’s busy, now go away.”

Alistair reached for Westie’s hand. She pushed him away and grabbed the big vamp by the throat with her machine, sending him to his knees. Alistair’s six-shooters were in the smaller vamp’s face before Westie had time to blink.

“Now that I have your attention, I’d like to see Costin, if you please,” she said, trying to mimic Isabelle’s society politeness.

Costin’s voice drifted out the brothel doors to find his guards. “Let her in,” he said. “The boy stays out.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said.

Westie released the big vamp and watched him cough and shrink into a ball on the ground. Alistair put his guns back in their holsters and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. He shook his head at her, his brows drawn, eyes pleading.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

She stepped over the big vamp. He looked up at her and hissed. Alistair tried to enter the building with her, but a group of guards emerged from the building and formed a wall to block his way.

“Wait for me by the horses.” Westie was pulled into the building, and the doors shut behind her before she could get out another word.

She was pushed into the center of the room by the guards. The overwhelming scent of perfume went straight to her head and made the spot just above her left eye throb.

Heavy black tapestries embellished with gold tassels hung at the windows. The walls were covered with black-and-white floral-patterned wallpaper, and the floors were blanketed in lush red carpet. To her right was the bar. It was well stocked with bottles of both whiskey and blood.

It looked much like any other high-end gentlemen’s club except for the soiled doves—as wives liked to call the human women working for the vamps—sitting around tables waiting for either their next customer or their next fix. And then, of course, there was the rumpus of fornication coming from the curtained partitions upstairs and the swings hanging from the ceiling.

“Come,” she heard Costin say.

She followed his voice to a dark corner of the enormous room, blinking to adapt her vision to her hazy surroundings. Costin was slumped in an oversize chair like a heartbroken king, hair pooling around his shoulders. He had beautifully long limbs and perfect symmetry. She thought about him helping her home from the Tight Ship, his hands on her stomach, his cool lips on hers when they kissed, and started to feel giddy with nervousness.

“Off you go,” Costin said to the others. The girls grabbed their drinks and rushed off without prodding, up the stairs and into their individual partitions. The guards were more hesitant. They knew Westie’s reputation for losing her head whenever she was angry. It was hard to kill a vampire, but Westie’s mechanics made a fair foe. “The rest of you too,” Costin said to the guards in the room.

They looked ready to protest but eventually left Westie and Costin alone.

Costin stood, grabbed a chair from a stack against the wall, and placed it next to his. He lit the candles in their sconces for her benefit and motioned her to sit. She did.

“It’s quite an honor having you here. There is only one reason a human girl comes to a blood brothel,” Costin said with a mischievous grin.

Westie screwed up her face. If he thought she was going to let him drink her blood, he had another think coming.

“I need vampire blood,” she said.

Even with blown pupils black as pots of coal dust, she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“All right, two reasons, but what you’re asking is against the law, as is barging into my establishment and threatening my guards. You could be hanged for your offenses if I were to go to the sheriff.”

Westie knew the sheriff didn’t like her, but his hatred for creatures went deeper than any petty dislike. A fact she didn’t mention.

“If I were the guest of honor at a string party every time I offended, I would’ve died as a child,” she said.

The sultriness crept back into his voice. “Yes, you’re quite contrary, aren’t you?”

She smiled sweetly, then let her lips fall back into a serious line. “Now about that blood.”

“For your long-standing illness?” he asked.

She remembered her kicking and flailing at the airdocks, and Nigel’s quick lie about seizures. “Yes.”

He lifted his head so that he could gaze incredulously down at her. “You come in here wanting vampire blood, which could get us both killed were anyone to know I gave it to you, and yet you lie to me.”

Their eyes dueled for a long moment before Costin turned his gaze away from her. “I know a seizure when I see one, and that display at the airdocks was no seizure. That, my love, was a fit of rage, though I have yet to figure out why.” Westie opened her mouth to speak, but Costin stopped her. “No. Don’t tell me. I like a good puzzle.”

“I wasn’t going to. I need that blood, and I need it before Nigel wakes up and sees I’m gone.”

Costin peeked at her through the corners of his eyes. “What will I get in return?”

“I have money.”

“I have more money than you can imagine. Why would I want your little bag of coins?”

“I don’t have time for games, Costin. What do you want?”

“I want you to drink from my vein.”