Page 91 of Those That Defy the Realm

“Why don’t we go grab a drink? Catch up?” Antares moves between us and links his arm with Bree before she can actually start a fight in the middle of the casino floor.

“Not with you, scum. Didn’t we break enough bones last time we found you in one of our clubs?”

This is exactly why I stayed as far as from the pack as possible when I got the job at the university. The propaganda the fae successfully used to evoke our ‘extinction’ was mostly bullshit but there are a small minority of vampires that feel that the fae are beneath us, turned fae even more so. Being pushed into the shadows of society hasn’t helped those opinions unfortunately, it's made the bullshit lies almost true, in some cases.

“Clearly not,” Antares antagonises the rival vampire.

The other three members of the pack are all hovering in close proximity and look ready to launch an attack should Phelan give them a signal.

Before anyone can say anything else, Phelan’s phone starts ringing in his suit pocket. Plucking the device out the fabric, he answers the call. Whoever is on the end of the line must speak for a maximum of three sentences before hanging up as Phelan doesn’t even respond before lowering the device from his ear.

“Bring them downstairs. The boss is feeling hospitable,” he says before turning away from us.

We get ushered by the pack across the playing hall to a door in the far corner. Another one of their pack stands to attention as we slip into the corridor beyond. Phelan barely acknowledges the male as he leads us past several closed doors and down a set of stairs at the far end.

We’re in such close proximity it would be impossible to talk without any of the other vampires hearing, especially as the raucous sounds of revelling gamblers has been shut out completely.

If we’re wrong about this hunch, we’ve wasted so much time. My heart lurches in my chest at the thought of Claire alone and in danger just for us to be barking up the completely wrong tree.

That’s without the fact that we have just willingly walked into hostile territory without any real escape plan.

Eventually, we’re brought into a small private bar. Everything is dark, rich wood, from the flooring to the panelling on the walls to the bar itself. Although the top is made of a black granite, which gleams slightly in the orange overhead lighting. There are a few stools lining half the bar area, and several leather wingbacked seats dotted around the edge of the room, with low tables to place drinks on.

“Order a drink, Fillias will be here in a minute,” Phelan says, back to pretending we’re here on a friendly catch up. He pauses for a beat to make sure we don’t follow him then disappears through a black door on the far side of the private bar.

Our other escorts take up spots on the entrance we just came through, and at a third door next to the bar. It’s clear we’re not leaving without fighting our way out.

“What can I get you?” A pale skinned male asks from behind the bar. His black hair and the orange lighting give him an alabaster glow, his visible fangs are as bright as his skin.

“What have you got?” Antares asks, acting right at ease.

“I can do just about any cocktail you like with any blood type you like, although we are getting a little low on the A-neg, so I hope you all don’t prefer that one.”

“Really? It’s a blood bar?” Ty says, shock clear in his voice. But there’s an undertone of admiration as well.

Blood Bars were everywhere before the war, in fact most clubs had blood on tap right next to the beers and mixers.

“Yes indeed. You should be very honoured that Fillias has invited you down here.” The male leans on the bar top. “So, what can I get you?”

We all order drinks, except for Bree, who looks a little horrified. I have zero intention of actually drinking the cocktail placed in my hands, but I lift it to my lips to give the impression that I am. It smells rich and well balanced. This bartender clearly has talent.

But I won’t trust anything any of this pack gives to us.

“Take a seat,” the male says as he finishes serving us. “I’m sure Fillias will be along soon but it might be several minutes yet. He’s very busy.”

We share collective looks but ultimately decide that sitting or standing, we’re outnumbered and need to play along. So, we head to a set of chairs adjacent to the bar.

I sit in one of the wingbacked chairs, back to the wall, Ty sits to my right, and Bree and Antares pull up small stools to make up our circle.

“I can’t believe they’ve got a whole blood bar down here,” Antares says. Ty joins in on the conversation, and I’m glad they chatter as we’re not suspiciously quiet. I fake another mouthful of my drink and watch as the males keeping guard around the room silently slip out of the room one by one until only the barman and one other is left.

Either they’ve recalculated the threat they feel by our presence, or something is going on. Catching Ty’s eye, I know he notices as well.

Several minutes pass and nothing happens. My knee, of my real leg, bounces as I force myself to make small talk. My mate might be in this very building, a few walls from me right now and the urge to smash through plaster and find her is a force I don’t know I can keep contained much longer.

If only she was already bonded to me, I’d be able to sense her.

“It’ll be fine.” Bree leans forward to put her hand over mine. She can’t know, that but her words coat the cracks showing in my armour.