The Red Veil Diaries (Volumes 1-4) by Marianne Morea

Author:Marianne Morea [Morea, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Coventry Press Ltd.
Published: 2018-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

4

The rest of the afternoon flew by with meet and greets as the club arose from its slumber. It was well past eight p.m. when she finally collapsed on her bed in the east wing.

Her accommodations were fit for a queen, and she spent the better part of an hour soaking in a giant claw foot tub in a bathroom bigger than her mama’s house. She took extra pains getting ready. Tonight wasn’t ac official appearance, but it was still her first in the public eye in ages.

It was near midnight when Annika walked toward the VIP section dressed to kill. A black ruched skirt with blood red trim fell to mid-calf, its rustle a soft whisper against her thighs as she climbed the stairs. A Victorian bustle cinched tight under a plunging leather over-bust corset. The perfect counterpoint for the club’s ambiance.

The outfit hugged her full curves and a feeling of freedom washed over her as she trailed her fingers along the brass railing.

She was back.

Nika took her seat at the reserved table overlooking the lower bars. The music pounded, and the rasping, almost incoherent vocals reverberated with heavy bass across the concrete floor. Tonight, every version of Goth culture in the house.

“Compliments of the Red Veil.” The waiter appeared from nowhere carrying a small silver tray. He placed a stemmed glass on a coaster and then turned the wine bottle in his hand, presenting its distinctive label.

“Vampire wine,” Nika replied with a nod. “Now that’s appropriate.”

He smiled, flashing sharp teeth. “Bette picked this especially for you.”

With an audible pop, he pulled the cork from the bottle’s slim neck and poured. “It’s a proprietary blend. Enjoy.”

The server placed the bottle in a bucket stand beside the table and then turned for the bar. Proprietary blend of what? Annika picked up the glass and sniffed.

“It’s just wine. Don’t worry.”

Stemmed glass in hand, Annika turned toward the tinkling voice. An exquisitely dressed woman in a black vintage gown, approached. She had an air of style and confidence, and if there was such a thing as Haute Goth, she would be it.

“We don’t lace the wine unless asked, and then only for very special customers.” The elegant woman held out her hand, perfectly polished fingernails gleaming red. “Abigail Bigly, manager of the Red Veil.”

“I…I...didn’t mean…” Nika stuttered.

She pressed her lips together to stop from rambling. What was it about these vampires that made her so unglued?

“Annika Lee.” She steeled herself and took the woman’s hand. “It’s pleasure to meet you.”

Amused, the classy vampire smiled. Formidable as she was graceful, Abigail looked at Nika with eyes that seemed to pierce and detect.

It didn’t take long for Annika to guess the woman’s role in their veiled subculture. Abigail was vampire elite, and only one degree from the famed New York Vampire Council.

“I was told you decided to stay with us after all,” she said. “I trust you’ve found everything to your liking?” The vampire tilted her head, clearly curious.

Nika nodded, meeting the vampire’s unnerving gaze.

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