Pike released a gust of air from his lungs. With the exhalation, his lips curled away from his teeth and fangs, baring them on a hungered growl as the scent of fresh blood wreathed the banquette. Pike swiveled his amber gaze onto the blonde, who now drooped in the booth between them, narcotics and blood loss leaving her dazed and unaware of what was happening. "Take her," Dragos told his lieutenant. "She's yours."
With a snarl, Pike swung the woman onto the table and tore her dress open down the front. He fell upon her like an animal, feeding in a public spectacle that drew every pair of Breed eyes in the place.
Dragos watched with voyeuristic pleasure, not only for the unleashed, frenzied lust of his lieutenant but for the avid interest of the other males who slowly closed in from all sides, fangs gleaming, amber stares smoldering, in the relentless pound of the strobe lights ricocheting out from the stage.
How good it felt to know this sense of relaxation, of pure, predatory power. It had been too long since he'd been able to move about in public this freely, without the Order forever breathing down his neck, disrupting him at nearly every turn. He was finished running from Lucan Thorne and his warriors. The blow he delivered to them today should have been signal enough of that. Now it was their turn to go to ground. Their turn to wonder where he might strike next, and how deeply.
Right now, he was in charge.
He owned this moment and everything that would take place within it.
And he wasn't satisfied, not yet.
He sent the redhead up on the table with a command whispered into her ear. She disrobed as he'd instructed her, gyrating in time to the hard bass thumping from the club's sound system and trailing her slender fingers through the twin rivulets of blood that streaked down from the open bite wound in her neck.
The ranks tightened, sharks gathering for the kill. Only a few seconds passed before the first vampire broke from the crowd to leap up onto the table with her.
As he took her throat in his teeth, Dragos nodded his approval. "Drink," he said, then stood to address the crowd. "Take as much as you want, all of you! There are no laws here tonight. No one to stop us from being what we truly are."
With an assenting roar, another male vaulted up onto the table to drink from the redhead's wrist. Then another, fastening his mouth around her other one.
In a far corner of the club, a woman's scream ripped loose then fell abruptly silent as someone else took his fill in the shadows. More and more feedings began, punctuated here and there by the shrieked alarm of the humans who were being savaged by the suddenly ravenous pack of thirsting Breed vampires.
Dragos observed it all with the satisfaction of a barbarian king at home in his arena. The coppery fragrance of spilling human blood rose up from everywhere, turning the club into an orgy of sex and savagery and unchecked madness.
Dragos savored the raw, violent energy vibrating all around him. This was power. This was freedom, at last.
And in this moment - this perfect, terrible moment - not even the Order could take it from him.
Let them learn what he'd done here and seethe that they hadn't been there to stop him. Let them tear apart the Enforcement Agency in a furious quest to find his secret allies. They could dismantle the entire organization for all he cared. His operation would only benefit from any distraction on the Order's part. And soon enough, nothing they did would matter anymore. He would own them, the same way he would own the rest of the peasants of this insignificant, unsuspecting world.
With triumph surging through his veins, Dragos threw his head back and roared like the beast he'd been born to be.
CHAPTER FIVE
"DO YOU THINK they killed him?"
"Hmm?" Senator Clarence grunted from his seat beside Tavia in the back of the FBI's fast- moving black Suburban. He hadn't spoken for most of the drive out of the city, except to insist that he and the federal agents personally ensured she'd make it home safely. Now he glanced over at her, his expression oddly bland, considering what had happened back at the police station.
Maybe it was shock. God knew, she was still in a state of disbelief herself. "There was so much gunfire as they took us out of that room ... I just wondered if you think the police shot and killed that man."
"I wouldn't be surprised if they did." The senator gave a casual shrug. "I wouldn't care either. Nor should you, Tavia. There's no room in our world for someone like him. If it had been up to me, I would have pumped the bastard's brain full of lead myself."
The coldness of the remark disturbed her. She had known Bobby Clarence for nearly three years, first as an intern for him when he was assistant district attorney, then as his personal assistant from the time he decided to run for a seat in the Senate. She knew he drew a hard line when it came to national security and fighting terrorism; he'd built his entire campaign on his commitment to that platform. But she'd never heard him speak so callously about the life - or the presumed death - of another person.
Tavia turned away, watching the snowy landscape zoom past the dark-tinted window as the vehicle raced north along the highway, leaving the city proper miles behind them. "Who is Dragos?"
Because he was so quiet, at first she thought the senator hadn't heard her. But when she glanced back at him once more, he was staring right at her. Right through her, it seemed. A strange prickle edged its way up the back of her neck, there and gone, as her boss's handsome face relaxed into a look of mild confusion. "I don't know what you mean, Tavia. Should I know the name?"
"He seemed to think you did - that man back at the station." She searched the senator's face for some sign of recognition but saw none there. "Before you came into the room, he told me you were in danger from someone called Dragos. He said we both could be in danger. He wanted to warn you - "