In the Blood 2 by Phoenix Adrian

Author:Phoenix, Adrian [Phoenix, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781416541455
Publisher: Bill
Published: 0101-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

ALEX SHOVED AWAY FROM the bar, plastic cup of Rogue ale in hand, and joined a group of idlers at the back of the crowd. Colored spots lit up the stage as four figures took their places. Fog machines churned pale, incense-scented mist into the crowd. Alex downed a swallow of the frosty ale, then twisted earplugs into his ears.

Hard-edged industrial music, a pissed-off wall of sound, slammed into the crowd, and Alex’s heart pounded in time with the heavy bass throb. He fixed his gaze on Dante’s lean, shadowed figure standing before a microphone at the front of the stage, his hands wrapped around the stand, his gleaming black guitar hanging at crotch-level.

Dante curled his hands around the microphone as he sang. His voice, low and simmering with rage, meshed with the music pounding through the club and up along Alex’s spine.

“On my hands and knees,” Dante sang, his voice a seething whisper. “For you. I’ll crawl, on hands and knees, across shattered glass, over splintered hearts, nothing is left of us. Nothing remains. But to crawl. On hands and knees.”

The music came to a sudden halt. But the crowd didn’t stop hurling themselves against each other with bruising and skull-jarring abandon.

“Now that I’ve got y’all’s attention,” Dante said, “I’ve got something I wanna say to the nightkind in the audience.”

Several people—male and female—shrieked “I love you, Dante!” A few laughed, thinking he was just doing a bond-with-the-audience spiel. Enthusiastic screams pierced the air.

Most had no idea that he truly was what their dark fantasies imagined: vampire.

And more.

“Everyone here came to enjoy a show, have a few drinks, and maybe get laid,” Dante continued, his voice clear and strong, his rhythm Cajun-spiced. “If you’re here for a different reason, if you want la passée, go hang out at a Smashing Pumpkins revival show or some other lame-ass gig and drink your fill. Touch anyone here without their consent and you’ll fucking regret it.”

A voice rang out from the crowd. “Is that a challenge?” More laughter followed.

A spotlight focused on Dante, lit him up with blue-gelled light. He slowly extended a middle finger. “Whattya think this means?” Then he lifted his head.

Alex’s heart jackhammered against his ribs, a stunned and frantic tattoo. The sudden collective intake of breath that he felt, more than heard, told him that this preternatural beauty, this Medusa of heart-stopping loveliness, hadn’t ensnared him alone. Lifting the plastic cup of ale to his lips, he drained it.

Light glimmered from the row of hoops in each ear, gleamed blue upon Dante’s glossy black hair; slender coiled muscles; and that pale, breathtaking face—full lower lip, high cheekbones, kohl-rimmed eyes. He moved across the stage with natural and untamed grace.

“Crawl with me, on your hands and knees, for me,” Dante growled, jerking the stand back up, rocking back, and pressing his lips close to the rounded microphone. “I’ll kiss away your fears. If you crawl. With me. Fall with me. For me.”

Every move of his tight-muscled body, every toss of his head, whispered sex.

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