Christian flicked a glance at me, but I didn’t look away. I’d meant for him to hear the compliment.
And he deserved to hear it.
* * *
Claude arrivedat Nine Circles of Hell ahead of us and claimed a table in a private area of the main room. The vibe was different with rap and sexy dance songs playing. Women were misbehaving on the dance floor with their high heels, skintight dresses, and enough sexuality to set the club on fire. In the Breed world, people had no real concept of time. Many were wealthy and didn’t have jobs, and Vampires never slept.
I carefully studied every face I passed. Chitahs, Vampires, men with hair down to their waist, others with shaved heads. But none had the signature blond hair of my friend Chaos. Christian nodded for me to look in all the rooms, so I weaved through the crowd, staring at one unfamiliar face after another. One man tried to put his arm around me, and when I shoved him away, a Chitah took that as his cue to jump in and instigate a fight.
That was in the wrath room.
Men were less aggressive in the lust room, but one of them actually looked back and forth at my mismatched eyes and flinched before turning away.
Idiot.
“Well?” Claude asked, stretching his right arm across the empty space beside him in the booth.
I looked across the table at Christian, who mirrored Claude’s body language down to the amount of space he left for me to sit. “I didn’t see him.”
“Have a seat,” Christian offered, patting the back of the booth.
“I prefer to stand.”
Claude gestured to the open space next to him. “Come and sit, female. We might be waiting a long time.”
I put my hands in my coat pockets. “I know a bet when I see one, so if that’s what’s happening here, I want whatever you two wagered.”
When Christian rested his elbows on the table with a look of annoyance, I sat next to Claude.
“So what did I win?”
Claude locked his hands behind his neck, showing off his muscles. “The next beer is on us.”
“I’ll take a rain check. We need to stay sober until we hear from Viktor. Any news?”
Claude checked his phone messages. “Nothing yet.”
I looked at the long bar to my right, colored lights matching the theme splashed against the bottles and glasses along the back wall. Hooper was polishing a glass and talking to a man who wore a tribal tattoo on his right arm. When the man got up to leave, one of the waitresses winked at him as she briskly walked behind the bar to mix a drink. She swirled the glass in her hand, a red glow appearing from her fingertips and lighting up the glass.
“Why don’t they just spike the bottles of alcohol instead of each individual order?” I asked.
Christian followed the direction of my gaze. “Just imagine a row of bottles spiked by Sensors. You don’t think that would be tempting to thieves? One can only guess how much they’d go for on the black market. A bottle of wrath could make an otherwise sane man do terrible things. Imagine what it might do to a man who’s already insane. Imagine serving them to members of the higher authority at a banquet.”
“Okay, I see your point.” My gaze traveled across the room. “I see something interesting.”
“A plate of onion rings?”
I kicked him under the table. “No. But remember that woman our Mage was talking to before he ran off? Well, there she is.”
Claude craned his neck. “Are you sure it’s the same woman?”
“Pretty sure, unless blond hair with black bangs is the latest trend in your salon this season.”
“You slay me.”
When I rose from my seat, Christian snatched my arm. “You’re certain it’s her?”
I nodded.
