Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 20 - 24

Chapter 20: Chapter 24

He offers his hands to me.

I take it and he guides me out of the black bugatti. He leads me to the club with the heavy bass of the music reverberating into the night. We bypass the line that I’m sure wraps around the building twice. The bouncer lifts the velvet rope as we approach. Once we enter, the mere aura of the club scrambles my senses with skin-deep music that resonates through my body. A kaleidoscope of multicolored beams, flashing like rainbow lightning from the rotary lights.

We come to the elevated railing, overlooking the crowd of gyrating, flailing bodies. The inside of the club is full of dancing and drinking with a thumping bass-line that hums through my bones.

A raucous breaks over the booming music. A cheer that comes from above. I turn my gaze skyward to the exclusive gallery ornate with ultra-luxurious furnishings. The table is topped with ice buckets, with elitists holding different drinks, screaming for Landen, beckoning him to join them. Landen gives them a devilish smile.

"I don’t know why you wanted me here. You have more than enough company here."

He looks back at me, a sudden fire blazing behind them. "And yet I want you." He makes a verbal retreat. "As my plus one, of course."

He interlocks our finger and leads me down the steps, cutting through the crowd to reach the glazed-surface bar. Hidden sound attenuation and a surround sound system add to the energy and vibrancy of the club. Landen merely tips his head at one of the bartenders, and he abandons other patrons to cater to Landen’s wants.

"Mr Vacheron. What can I get for you two?"

Landen nods at me. "Mrs Vacheron and I will be having one of my favorites. Panty rippers."

"Got it."

I gape at him, shaking my head fervently. "Uh, no."

"What?" he yells over the music, pretending he can’t hear me. "Can’t hear you, babe."

"I don’t drink, Landen!"

"I’d hardly call this drinking. Just a taste. A kid could have it."

What have I gotten myself into..

Promptly, the bartender comes back with a tray of shots. Six shots. Brightly coloured with an ombre hue like something out of this world. Landen nudges the tray closer to me with a roguish smirk.

"No. What’s in them, anyway?"

"Little bit of this. Little bit of that, they’re harmless, I swear."

I remain cynical.

"Tell you what. If you do three shots, I’ll never ask you out again. This will be the last of my antics. I swear to God."

I take up a shot, throwing my head back and draining it. Landen sends me a wounded look.

"I’d be offended if I wasn’t impressed." In rapid succession, he downs his three shots in seconds. He quirks his brows and signals to my remaining two. "They are not going to finish themselves."

I take the second. Drain it. By the time I’m holding the last, waves are barrelling at me. Confusion and disarray stirs my mind. Everything becomes more vivid and yet more blurry, a haze of neon colors and dancing silhouettes.

"Last one," Landen goads. "Can’t back out now."

I empty it and pound the glass on the table.

Landen lets out a wild cheer, giving a mock applause. "Now for your reward."

Pressure grows on the small of my back before he steals me away to the dancefloor.

"What... what were in those shots?"

He looks at me, entertained. "Don’t tell me you’re already getting tipsy?"

I repeat the question.

"Little gin, maybe a little vodka. I think not knowing adds to the fun. And someone like you could use a lot of it."

My mouth flies open. I shove him back sloppily. "I am sooo fun."

"Prove it. And dance with me."

I glance down. I put my hand in his and he spins me around and pulls me close, my back against his chest, my body flooding with dangerous confidence, unbound by reason, the world and its judgments. My blood afire, my mind light as my hands roam over my body suggestively with sensual slowness, then my arms float above my head. Landen can’t restrain himself anymore. His hands sway my hips with sumptuous sultriness, his hands tracing down my sides, his face disappearing into the crook of my neck, leaving a pathway of searing kisses. My head lolls before I turn my face to the ceiling, grinning with my eyes closed.

Impatiently, he turns me around. And I see Botan.

A gasp bursts from me, and I stumble out of his grasp.

I blink fast. Eventually, I see Landen staring back at me with a worry line etched between his brows.

"You’re not him," I murmur, words drowned out by the music. "You’re not him..."

***

Silas POV

"Luciano safe?"

My dad nods, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose. "He landed in Tokyo a few hours ago. He’s set to rendezvous with the Vacherons at the hotel."

I heave out a breath. "Sending your son to do your dirty work." Sarcasm leaking into my tone. "Excellent parenting skills. You should consider writing a book."

His shoulders jostle from his hearty guffaw. "You’re just upset that I didn’t send you instead."

I crack into a smile, looking away. "Luciano is a damn good negotiator, but he’s too soft."

"And you’re too aggressive." He gives the commission report another faux peruse. "Your brother is clever and stern enough to get what we need without getting hostile. Last time I sent you in, you broke Dante’s jaw."

I stifle a smile. "You would think a mob boss’s son would know how to fight. That’s the problem with depending too much on hired muscle." I stand up, ambling toward the arched windows of the lounge. My finger swipes the drape aside so I can peer into the darkened street. "Frank said she left with Landen." The mere thought colors my vision red. "That was hours ago. Isn’t it almost 3AM now?"

"You’re worried?"

I drop the drape to swivel around. "You’re not?"

"He’d never dare try anything."

"I don’t trust him." I start pacing feverishly. "None of the Vacherons."

"We don’t need their trust, just their cooperation."

"Yeah, but—"

A roar of a turbo engine interrupts me. I go back to the window to peek at the sleek black sports car zooming down the road to stop in front of the townhouse. I squint my eyes at the disheveled, tall figure that sprouts out and rounds the car to open the passenger door. A sparkling silver fabric spills out. I bolt out of the lounge, my haste causing a zephyr as I dash to the door, swinging it open. Landen is crouched by the passenger door, speaking in hushed tones to Avara.

I march over to them. Landen catches a glimpse of me and straightens, then moves to meet me halfway. His hair is tousled and the buttons of his white dress shirt are undone. He approaches with his hands raised in placation.

"You should know that she’s a bit out of it."

I shove him aside to get to Avara. I lower myself to be level with her. I take her chin gently, turning it so she’s facing me. Avara gives me a lopsided smile, her eyes drooping, unable to look straight.

"Silas." She flips her arms wide open. "Huggy."

I back away, wiping my mouth with my hand. "Did you drug her?"

"No?" Landen exclaims, his face screwing up into a scowl. "I didn’t fucking drug her. We just had shots—she only had three."

"She doesn’t drink," I bark back. "What was in them?"

He sighs and looks around aimlessly, then shrugs. "I don’t know, man. The bartender changes it up every time. I had three and I’m fine."

Anger ripples through me, hot and quick. "That’s because you probably have the tolerance of ten Viking men."

His scowl slips into a smug smirk. "Was that supposed to be an insult?"

"Then you spiked her drink," I state as a fact. My anger becomes visceral.

He rolls out a laugh. "To do what?" He takes a menacing step forward, coming nose-to-nose with me. "You really think that if I wanted to fuck her, I’d need to use force?"