Cassadaga Moon Page 4

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  Scared? No. Hating rain? Yes.

  Amused at Mia’s attempt to “call her on the carpet,” she relaxed her head back against the seat and watched with half-hearted interest as rain poured from the heavens and pounded the car. Forget raining cats and dogs. It was like driving through endless waterfalls, with plenty of lightning surrounding both sides of the car. “We seem to be in the hellacious part now.”

  “Yes, we are. Just wait, a few minutes more and it will stop.” Just as Mia predicted, the storm stopped and they were heading down I-4 toward the club. Mia kept insisting that there was nothing to worry about the entire drive. She still seemed to assume that Cindi was afraid.

  Sweet little muffin, Mia was. Usually Cindi was the one calming Mia and protecting her. Cindi smiled when one of their excursions popped in her thoughts, the senior college trip to Key West. They had ended up in an undesirable area of town, and Mia was a wreck. When drunkards had followed them, and homeless bums had whistled at them and asked for money, Mia learned to fly. Yep, her fear took control, and her body took flight.

  Cindi had chased after Mia, who ended up at an intersection, sweating bullets and hyperventilating. From that moment on, she had ordained herself as Mia’s protector. She had told her that she would always take care of her. No one would ever hurt her friend, and if anyone ever tried, she’d kick their ass.

  Cindi rested her head against the window. She’d have to be on her toes at the club tonight and party tomorrow to keep a close watch on Mia. She hadn’t lied when she told her the club and party were work related. They were. She just hadn’t been too forthcoming with what kind of establishments they would be gracing and what her research really entailed.

  The lack of disclosure was part of her protection mechanism. Mia was such a good soul, so innocent, but she needed to loosen up, expand her horizons.

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  Apprehensive, she glanced at Mia. Maybe the party is too much too soon? Well, too late now. We’re already on our way. The best I can do is keep an eye on her and hope that if anything weird goes down she won’t hate me.

  Thoughts of sharing with Mia the true nature of her work crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to lose her friendship. So many friends over the years had walked in and out of her life the moment they found out she was a psychic vampire.

  “You’re awfully quiet over there. Penny for your thoughts?”

  “Just thinking about how much fun we’re going to have the next few days.”

  Mia shot her a wry look. “Are you sure there isn’t something else on your mind?”

  “You mean besides us passing up the club?” The car slowed down as Mia glanced out the window at the sign whizzing past. “Firestone?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Give me a sec. I’ll turn around at the street.” As Mia promised, she turned the car around and had them safely in the parking lot within minutes. They both emerged, slamming the doors shut behind them.

  A line of people started at the door of the club and wrapped around the side of the building.

  “Holy crap, Cin. It’s going to take us hours to get inside there.”

  “We’re not waiting in any line, Mia. Come on.” Pulling Mia’s hand into hers, she took off toward the front door.

  A big, burly bouncer with a Mohawk greeted them. “Ladies, the line is back there.” He pointed toward the montage of bodies gyrating to the booming bass wafting from the club.

  “My name is Cindi Vera Cruz. Check the guest list, and you will see we are on it.”

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  “Hold on a second. Justin, hand me the guest list.” A cute man with curly, red hair handed him a clipboard, and Mohawk man glanced at it. “What’s the name again?”

  “Cindi Vera Cruz.”

  “How do ya spell that?”

  Cindi fought back the desire to snatch the clipboard from his fat hands and clobber him over the head with it. “C-I-N-D—”

  “Last name.”

  Now she had to fight back the urge twice as hard. “V-E-R-A—”

  “Okay. Okay. I see it here. Cindi Vera Cruz, plus one.”

  “Yep. That’s us.”

  He handed the list back to his assistant and removed the cloth rope from the VIP entrance.

  “Thank you kindly,” Cindi said, pulling Mia through the entranceway into the club.

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  Chapter Three

  Jordan had just ordered Tanner a glass of chardonnay when the host at Firestone announced his table was ready. When they reached the secluded round table near the back door, Jordan slid the chair out for Tanner, and she plopped down.

  “Are you hungry?” He asked the question knowing damn well the poor blood doll was probably starving. She hadn’t eaten since her time with him, and since he’d just met her late yesterday afternoon, hunger could be a real possibility.

  “Are you?” A sweet tone answered back.

  “I can always eat, darlin’.” He wasn’t talking just food. His gutter mind always took center stage, and he loved it. Just the thought of him dining several times between her legs last evening made his pants a little snug.

  He glanced at his cock, catching the quick glance Tanner gave.

  That was his cue to grasp her hand and place it near the bulge.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” He leaned in close to her, the strawberry bodywash he’d purchased last weekend at Bath & Body Works to keep in his shower for his visiting women permeating from her recently bathed skin.

  “No. I’m growing rather fond of it.”

  He snickered. “Yeah, darlin’, they all do.” Her chuckle was sweet, and the long strokes she gave his erect cock even sweeter. Resting a gaze on her plump lips, it took all of his willpower to not push her to her knees under the table in front of him.

  Sucking him off was something she knew how to do. She may have 40

  been a virgin when it came to the blood game, but when it came to giving head, she was a pro. Lips made for pleasure.

  “Just don’t get too attached. It tends to like to wander,” he added.

  She squeezed him harder. Horny was taking the place of hunger, and he was just about to whisk her into his favorite janitor’s closet when the waitress appeared with their food.

  Thirty-five minutes later, they’d finished dining on shrimp cocktail, fried cheese, zucchini, and ravioli. He’d ordered a second round of drinks when Jamison approached the table. His appearance left much to be desired. His hair was tousled and not in its usual ponytail, and his expression was etched with annoyance.

  “To what do we owe this pleasure, my friend?” Tanner chuckled at Jordan’s words. A cordial expression crossed her face, and she added, “Nice to see you again.” Jordan opened his mouth to say something when a commotion broke loose at the bar. A brunette hauled back and threw a punch at a petite blonde, knocking her from the barstool she was perched on.

  Another woman broke a beer bottle against the forehead of the man beside her. The man cracked his head against the wood floor, giving Jordan a bird’s-eye view of the culprit that laid him flat. Christi Wilson launched off the barstool and straddled the incoherent man.

  The bar suddenly turned into mayhem central. Jordan was at Christi’s side before the bartender lifted the phone to dial 911.

  Christi wound up, ready to throw another punch at the passed-out man when Jordan grabbed her wrist.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  In an uncontrolled slice of anger, she spit in Jordan’s face. “I’m going to kill this asshole.”

  “Hey! Spit on me again and it’s going to be lights out for you.” Jordan’s patience was wearing thin, and he bit back the desire to slam her head against the wood floor, so instead he managed to chuckle in spite of his desire to give her a punch that would knock her into tomorrow.

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  Jordan tightened the hold on her wrist then swept an arm around her waist just as the Orlando Police Department barged through the front doors of the club.


  He gazed up just in time to catch Detective Kipling scanning the room. Our cue to fly the coop.

  He’d made it down the back hallway without Christi pulling out all of his hair and without Kipling seeing him.

  Jamison stood at the exit door. Shaking his head in what could only be described as disbelief, he pushed it open. “I’ll take care of Tanner and Kipling. Get Christi out of here.”

  “You asshole, I’m going to cut your dick off,” Christi wailed as Jordan rushed them through the open door.

  “You bet you’ll be doing something with it, but it won’t be cutting.”

  Christi kept bellowing obscene words, and Jordan just laughed.

  Keep that thought.

  * * * *

  A few hours later, Jordan hung up the phone. Jamison’s call came at the perfect time. He needed to get Christi home before her boyfriend came looking for her. The last time Matt showed up unannounced, all hell broke loose. He didn’t take to kindly to his girlfriend having sex with Jordan, so he probably wouldn’t be happy about what they did tonight. No. He wouldn’t be happy, but I sure am.

  The image of her full lips flashed through his mind. And then the remembrance of where they’d been. He readjusted himself before he made her later than she already was.

  After depositing a satisfied and pleasant Christi at her doorstep, he pulled the black Mercedes Kompressor from the curb and headed back toward the club. It was early, and there was fun still to be had.

  Twenty minutes later, he parked the car in his usual spot at Firestone. Once he reached the door to the club, he slipped an Andrew 42

  Jackson in the hand of Leroy, the only bouncer he cared for at the establishment, and waded his way through the crowd toward the back table he’d abandoned earlier in the evening.

  Jamison was at the table, sitting in his usual seat, but Tanner was missing. When he’d reached the table, his best friend nudged the vacant chair with the tip of his boot, gesturing for Jordan to take a seat. Jordan caught the eye of the waitress coming toward them, pointed to the longneck Budweiser on the table, and after she’d nodded and headed toward the bar, he plopped down.

  “What happened to my little Tanner?”

  Jamison took a swig of beer before he said, “I took the poor girl home. She’s goddamned infatuated beyond normal groupie with you.

  You really need to stop doing this to women. How are you ever going to find the right one when you—”

  “There is no right one. Not for a man like me, Jamison. Buddy, my lifestyle, my preference, they don’t bring the women that could be forever, only the ones that want forever to be one night.”

  “Bullshit.” Jamison shook his head and pinned Jordan with a challenging look. “You were in love once. Yeah, it was in college, and when she found out about the vampirism, she freaked and ran.

  She was probably meaner than she should have been, but what you two had was real. I’m not here to lecture you, buddy, but I think if you’d let your guard down and stop slutting around, you’d see I’m right.”

  Jordan took a long swig of his beer, then slammed it on the table.

  “Are you done lecturing me? And before you chastise me because I like to fuck women, you best look in the mirror.”

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah, fine. I think your little Mina…Mia has boggled your brain.”

  Jamison leaned back on his chair. “Perhaps she has.” A sadness fleeted across his best friend’s face. “You’re right. It won’t work.”

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  Jordan’s phone tinged. He reached in his pocket, flipped it open, and said, “Jordan here.”

  Jamison silently motioned that he was going to the restroom and then pointed toward the bar.

  Jordan nodded and then said into the phone, “Glad you and Trixi came. Jamison and I will be there momentarily.” He chuckled. “Yeah, baby, I’m thirsty.”

  Excited about the new plans, a second night of blood drinking, this time with Trixi and Stacey, he disconnected from the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket before he joined Jamison at the bar.

  Once he’d filled Jamison in on the new plans, those plans being the blood dolls in waiting, the two men paid the bar tab and waded across the dance floor toward the rear of the club. On their way to the back room of the club, Jordan slipped a lancet into Jamison’s pocket.

  Jamison had mentioned he didn’t have any of his tools with him, and of course, Jordan always carried his talon and extra lancets in case of an emergency.

  The room was full tonight with many hungry sanguinarians.

  Jordan refocused his eyes in the dim lighting and scanned the room for Trixi and Stacey. The two redheads were sprawled out on the two black velvet loveseats against the mirrored wall. Jordan nudged Jamison, and the men moved to the couches, carefully sliding in beside their prospective donors for the evening.

  Comfortably seated behind Trixi, Jordan placed his hands on either side of Trixi’s waist and pulled her against him. Her white cotton blouse fit loosely at her waist, giving him ample opportunity to slide his hands underneath, and of course he just kept his hands traveling north. She conveniently forgot her bra, and he conveniently ran his hands over her tits, the soft, warm flesh inviting.

  His thumb touched her nipple, sending it to torpedo mode, and he pinched and played with her left tit while he slid the hair away from 44

  her neck with the other hand. Gently, he placed a kiss on the spot on her neck that he would soon cut, and sucked the skin into his mouth.

  She turned her face toward him, and a soft moan sounded. “That feels so good. Please pinch my titties while you cut and suck me.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. But, only if you unbutton your skirt and let me finger your pussy, too.”

  Trixi moaned again, a little louder this time, and unbuttoned her denim skirt. Jordan moved his hand from the tit he was squeezing and pinched down her warm flesh until his fingers rested in the soft curls above her pussy. When her breathing accelerated, he slipped his finger into her wet center.

  Then he punctured the skin on her neck.

  The blood surfaced. The crimson liquid made his mouth water.

  His lips touched her neck before he covered the cut with his mouth.

  He drew on her neck, and the metallic, salty taste filled his mouth, warming his body as he swallowed.

  He closed his eyes and licked the area, pulled his finger out of her pussy then slid it back inside. Her pussy clenched around his finger after he slid it back inside. The lights dimmed further, a sign that if the participants wanted to get funky, this was the time. No stray customers would be making their way back to this room now.

  Stacy turned her head slightly and whispered against his cheek, “I want to pleasure you. You just made me come. Now it’s your turn…” Well damn, he couldn’t fight a lady’s request, now could he?

  “Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”

  She slid off the sofa and landed on her knees, facing him. Then she unzipped his pants and pulled his cock into her hands, stroking it a few times from hilt to tip, carefully placing her lips around it and sucking it into her mouth.

  If Jordan remembered correctly, and he did, she gave a wicked blow job.

  Comfortable and content, he rested his head against the back of the couch and gazed toward the front doorway. A female with bright-

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  magenta hair walked into the room. But it was the female that walked in behind her that caught his attention and sent a flutter of butterflies into his gut.

  The muscle-bound bouncer rushed the girls. The magenta-haired one touched the bouncer’s arm and appeared to be saying something, but Jordan couldn’t make it out. And the one with long brown hair glanced around the room quickly before backing out of the doorway.

  Trixi sucked him harder until he came in her mouth.

  But the usual feeling that came from a great blow job was gone, and in its place a desire to meet the amazing brunette that was here before she got away from
him.

  Trixi cleaned him up and put him back together before she disappeared.

  I’ve got to find that woman.

  Jordan stood and planned to do just that when Jamison rose from his spot on the sofa and stood in front of him. His face was white as a ghost.

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked.

  “She’s here. Here at this club…” Jamison’s voice trailed off toward the doorway.

  Jordan glanced at the doorway while he tucked his shirt into his pants. “Who’s here?”

  “Her. She’s here. This isn’t good. I have to go.” Jamison’s voice held panic.

  “Can you be more specific? Her? She? What the fuck, who are you talking about?”

  Jamison dismissed Jordan’s questions and just said, “She can’t know about this part of my life. She’d never understand.” And with that, he left Jordan speechless and walked away.

  Jordan stared after him briefly before he remembered what he previously planned to do, find that woman.

  With a desire burning through him to find her, he walked toward the doorway that led into the front room of the club.

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  Pretty lady…I’m coming for you.

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  PART II:

  Blaring

  Chapter One

  “What do you mean don’t run from the house if I’m scared?”

  “Mia, trust me. There’s nothing to worry about.” Famous last words.

  A jolt of energy, like an invisible hand lurching out from the atmosphere, slammed into Mia’s chest and traveled through her body at the realization that Cindi was a scientist who researched paranormal cults stemming from indigenous groups in the far corners of the world. First the strange club last night, and now this. So what are we doing on this porch in Cassadaga, Florida?