“Shut the fuck up man; cool it on the ‘human’ talk. And wasn’t that you I saw looking like a youngling popping his first fang?”
Vance made a move to shove Roman but surprised crossed his face as Roman made a quick dodge and follow-through, tripping Vance, causing him to land face first onto the marble of the lobby.
The group busted up laughing, including Vance, as Ashford helped him to his feet.
“Thanks, Ash. Alright, alright, enough dickin’ around. Let’s get this party started!” Vance took the lead and headed off toward the club.
Ashford hung back and pulled Roman to the side to slow down a bit as the others carried on through the casino floor, receiving more than curious glances.
“What did happen back there? Everything was going according to plan and then that huma… err, soldier was like nothing we’ve seen, and we’ve seen some shit.”
Roman’s brow furrowed as he reflected on the mission. Ashford was right on all accounts; it was a strange and surprising experience. The Knights had received verified intel of where Lucem Diem’s vampire trafficking caravan would be moving through. The ambush was set up and executed expertly, like they’d done a thousand times in the last century. But when Roman pulled the doors off the van he was assigned, a human soldier came barreling at him at a surprising speed—way faster than any human should be able to achieve.
That alone took Roman by surprise, but when he engaged with the soldier, he was stronger, more agile, and executed complicated maneuvers that should not have been possible given his species. The fight took everything out of Roman, and if he was being honest with himself, rattled him a bit. And now, he wasn’t as healed as the rest of the group. It was odd for a vampire’s wounds not to resolve quickly.
“You’re right, Ash. And between you and me, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I was going to win that battle.”
“Yeah, and I saw the fucker actually get away with the rest of their team—although missing an arm. Do you think maybe we’ve seen the proof of our suspicions, that Lucem Diem has developed some advanced weaponry?”
“I think so. I’ll bring it to the meeting tomorrow. I don’t know what this means for us, but right now, I’d like to attend to the after-mission, business as usual, fuck around and wind down routine.” Roman forced a smile he wasn’t quite feeling, slapping Ashford on the upper arm.
“Yeah, we’d better catch up or Xavier will have saddled every woman in the club by the time we get there,” Ashford agreed, picking up his pace as he and Roman headed toward the “members only” entrance.
The nondescript, black metal door slid open with their cards. Roman spotted his team in their usual, semi-private location, throwing axes and surrounded by beautiful females. He recognized a couple of them from previous trips to Vegas; one platinum blonde in particular he remembered being exactly what he needed to take the edge off the mission and his lasting soreness.
She didn’t waste any time sauntering over, dropping Vance’s hand in the process. He looked irritated momentarily, then saw it was Roman who captured her attention and deferred to his privilege of rank. Vance seamlessly moved on to another blonde who just arrived.
“You want to take a turn?” the female asked, extending an axe to Roman with one hand and a shot of something, probably gin, with the other.
Roman gave her his most mischievously handsome grin, reaching for both, and trying to remember her name. Leah? Lilian? Le—
“Leighton,” she supplied. “And Roman, if I remember correctly… and I do.” She was all sultry temptress as she lazily slid her copper-colored eyes up and down Roman’s body, biting her lip directly in the center, her two fangs barely brushing her blood-red lips.
Roman could feel his body responding, thankful for a little distraction from his pain. He threw back the shot with his left hand, flipped the axe around in a small 360-degree arc with his right, then expertly threw it at the target, almost grazing Xavier.
Just before the axe collided with the center of the target, Roman gasped and swore as he grabbed for his shoulder, dropping the shot glass in the process.
Leighton caught the glass before it hit the ground. “Are you alright?”
Roman’s good mood, and semi-hard-on, evaporated. “Yeah, just my damn shoulder. It’s nothing. Another round?” Roman motioned for their attendant and was swiftly provided with a new bottle of Nolet’s Reserve and a couple glasses. They made their way to a little corner table and booth; Leighton draped herself against Roman’s left side, crossing her left leg over his lap, allowing him to place his fingers just under the hem of her minidress which had inched upward.
As Roman twisted his neck toward her, bringing his lips to just behind her ear, he winced and hissed in a breath, feeling the strain in his right shoulder again. “God dammit.” Roman gently pushed Leighton’s leg off him and stood up. “Fuck this. Hey, cretins, I’m out.” The rest of the crew barely acknowledged him, except for Xavier who gave him an assessing eye.
On his way to his suite, Roman texted the owner of Muse to see about a last-minute massage. By the time he arrived in his room, he received a confirmation text from Muse’s spa.
Muse Spa: Thank you for booking a platinum massage service. Your therapist, Jessica, will arrive at your room at 9:00 p.m. Please let us know if we can further assist you.
Roman saw it was just about 8 p.m. and thought that he’d have just enough time to take a hot shower.
Jessica absently hummed to the song streaming—“whatever it was called” by who cares—as she drove her regular, boring commute to Muse under the punishing sunshine of Las Vegas. She’d been in Vegas for less than a year, probably only six months, but for some reason, it was already starting to feel like a sand trap she’d wandered into and couldn’t get out of while she choked to death on the smog of extravagance.
She was coming up on the exit that would take her anywhere but here and felt that familiar pull to crank the wheel to the right and drive off away from the sunset. Why don’t I? Why don’t I leave this shithole and never look back? The thought was momentarily invigorating, but per usual, thoughts of her grandmother came rushing to her.
She’s why, Jessica. Get it together and grow up; that woman sacrificed so much to take care of you when there was no one left. The least you can do is suck it up and keep rubbing down the wealthy; it could be so much worse.
Although not a terribly inspiring self-pep talk, at a stoplight no less, Jessica met her green eyes in the rearview mirror and renewed her “I got this” mantra with a little nod. She switched the stream to her favorite podcast, Before They Were Murders, which was not only fascinating to her but also helped remind her that people don’t always start off terrible; somewhere inside these rich dicks that she serviced daily, there was probably once a neglected child or some other scenario that helped her not become a feature episode on the same podcast.
Jessica parked, made her way to the staff entrance, and navigated the pseudo calm facade of the spa to the locker room. The day shift of massage therapists was getting ready to leave while the evening shift was just getting started, changing and reviewing their bookings.
Jessica was grateful that her schedule that day would end a little earlier than usual. Although she needed the money to make all her payments this month, she was really not into it today, and getting to leave a couple of hours early would probably allow for some much-needed self-care. She could swing missing a little bit of work; plus, she’d be able to sign up for extra shifts on the weekend if she needed.
“Hey, Jessica, did you do anything fun on your days off?” Marnie, one of the senior therapists, was always trying to encourage Jessica to hang out with her; not in an annoying, overbearing way but with genuine interest that Jessica appreciated. She just wasn’t great at making friends and always felt a bit awkward; best to just keep to herself.
“Well, if you consider spending time with your grandmother fun,” Jessica replied with a raised eyebrow and smirk. She flipped her hair forward and gathered up her long, red, rambunctious waves into a thick but clean bun.
“I don’t know; depends on what your grandma is into,” Marnie said and then laughed.
“Honestly, she can get a bit out there.” Jessica chuckled, more to herself reflecting on just how far “out there” her gran could get. People generally didn’t understand her quirkiness, and she really wasn’t that old to be considered graciously losing her marbles.
“We’re all heading out a bit later to grab some apps and drinks at Ember. I saw you don’t have any clients booked past eight. You should join us. In fact, one of the guys meeting up with us might interest you.” Marnie gave Jessica a knowing look.
“Thanks, Marnie. I’ll think about it.” But not really, Jessica thought as she slipped out of her flip-flops, pulling on socks and sliding into comfy sneakers.
“Please do, hun. Live a little! You’re young and beautiful; you need some love in your life.” Marnie gave her a wink and continued out the door.
Jessica sighed deeply and shut her locker. I just need to make it through a few hours, she reasoned with herself to force some elusive motivation. Jessica checked the schedule and headed to one of the couple’s massage rooms to wait for her first appointment. Kylie was already there, putting fresh linens on the table and stocking the towel warmer.
