The bouncer stared at her hungrily. “Enjoy.”
She didn’t respond, just confidently strutted by him and inside.
Like the predator she was, she prowled through the sweaty bodies of the club goers. The scent of arousal, perfume, cologne, sweat, and alcohol was a cloying mix and one of the reasons she avoided places like this when she could.
Beams of colored light bounced across the walls and faces of the dancers. The music was overly loud in her ears, but she had an internal switch that could filter it out. So much so she could hear the shouted conversations at booths and tables, and the murmured sexy talk between lovers on the dance floor.
She searched the club as she moved through it, unused to this kind of hunting.
Then she saw him.
Tall, blond hair tied in a knot on top of his head. Scruffy beard. He sipped on a beer as he stood with friends, looking out of place among the dancing clubbers in his motorcycle boots and tattoos.
He wasn’t Elijah.
Didn’t exude Elijah’s confidence and sex appeal.
But he’d do.
As she grew closer, she realized he was young. Perhaps only twenty, twenty-one. The beard made him look older.
His brown (not green) eyes widened ever so slightly as she stopped before him and his friend.
“Buy me a drink?” she asked bluntly.
His eyebrows rose as his gaze dipped down her body and back up. “Uh, aye. Sure. Aye, of course.” He pressed a hand to the small of her back, his fingers grazing bare skin as they turned toward the bar.
She smelled his sudden arousal and glanced over her shoulder to see him looking at her ass with hunger.
So, he was an ass man.
Echo could work with that.
“What are you drinking?” the blond asked loudly in her ear.
Too loud for her senses.
She masked her flinch. “Whatever you’re drinking.”
“Is that an American accent?”
“It is.” She smiled invitingly.
She waited until he’d ordered two more drinks and handed one to her. “Is there a quiet corner in here?”
“Uh … no’ really, but this way will do!” He reached for her hand.
Echo noted the look he exchanged with his friend as they passed. TheI’m the manlook and the responding nod ofGo get yourself some.
She tried not to let her guilt stop her from doing what she needed to do.
It wasn’t like she was going to hurt the guy.
Just … take a little bit of blood to tide her over.
“I’m Johnny!” he told her after pulling her into the darkest corner of the club.
“Anne!” she lied, eyeing an exit door at his back.
