Page 45 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

Both men are too enraptured by Phernella’s performance to even notice our entry, their eyes fixed on her exquisite form. She is one of our most experienced performers, her long raven hair, deep green eyes and plush lips alluring. Tonight she is wearing a see-through red slip, every dip and curve of her perfect hourglass figure a captivating picture of beauty.

For a moment we stand in the shadows, the dimly lit room designed to draw the patrons’ attention to their performer for the evening. Phernella dances in a focussed spot of blood-red light, her hip-length hair swaying around her seductively. Both of their mouths are slack as they watch her, their base animal instincts subdued to a controllable level. Her compulsion is powerful, made more so by her innate sensuality.

“You may leave, Phernella,” I say. She cuts me a look, a knowing glint in her eyes as she dips her head in acknowledgement. “Take the rest of the evening off. You have my permission to satiate your desires. There are plenty of patrons to choose from tonight. Just remember the rules, yes?”

“Thank you, Dorian,” she replies, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she strides from the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mark, the man who gripped Henrietta’s arm, exclaims.

John blinks up at me, shock slowly registering on his face as I step into the muted light. His body tenses as Mark shifts in his seat next to him, Phernalla’s compulsion wearing off.

Yes, fuckers, we’ve met before.

“Wait—” John begins, his instincts kicking in as he senses our savagery.

“This is my club, and you are not fucking welcome,” I snap, cutting the prick off as I remove my jacket and place it over the chaise lounge situated to my left. Then I unfasten my cufflinks, tucking them into my pocket as I roll up my sleeves with slow, deliberate movements.

“Your club?” Mark replies.

It’s almost comical watching him try to catch up with the imminent threat, though a flicker of arrogance remains. It’s going to be very enjoyable watching Logan squash that once and for all.

“That’s right…” I let my voice trail off as I pin him with my glare.

“We didn’t realise. We’ll go,” John simpers.

“Stay right the fuck where you are,” I snap, my command pinning the bastard to his seat.

“We’ll pay you whatever is owed for the performance,” he offers, flicking his gaze to the machete gripped in Logan’s hand. “There’s no need for violence.”

“I thought violence was exactly what you enjoy. Oh, wait, violence against women and children is more your wheelhouse, right?” I sneer.

John flinches.

“We paid our dues,” Mark has the stupidity to say.

Logan bares his teeth, a deep rumble rising up his chest as he moves behind the fucker, grasps his hair, and yanks his head back with a vicious tug. He lowers his mouth to Mark’s ear, and says, “A few years in jail is not nearly enough punishment for what you’ve done.” Then he grasps Mark’s arm, and slices off his hand in one quick movement. “That’s for daring to touch Henrietta.”

Mark roars in pain, blood spurting from his radial artery, his fingers slipping through the bloody stump as he futilely tries to stem the flow. The acrid stench of urine lifts into the air as he pisses himself.

“Jesus-fucking-christ.” John’s eyes widen comically as he holds up a shaking hand in an attempt to appease me. “L-listen, we d-did w-wrong. We’re n-ot those men anymore.”

I step closer, my presence making him shrink further into his seat as I barely restrain my fury. “You attempted to drug my woman. So tell me again you’re not that man anymore.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t going to do anything…”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” I command, and his mouth slams shut as though sewn together with invisible thread. I see the panic flare in his eyes as I lift my foot, pressing it into his crotch. “Lie to me again, and I will crush your limp dick until it’s nothing more than a pulpy mess.”

“It was his idea,” Mark groans, his final words a pathetic attempt to save his own skin.

Logan immediately grips his throat, crushing his windpipe in one powerful motion. A wet, strangled sound releases from Mark’s lips as the blood vessels in his eyes pop, turning the white, crimson.

“Remind me of your names,” I command, removing my foot as Logan releases Mark’s throat.

He immediately gasps for air, but it’s no use. His lips are already turning blue. Death is almost upon him.

“I’m J-John and this is M-Mark,” John replies. “W-why?”

Logan grinds his teeth, his gaze snapping to me as he waits impatiently for me to act.