Read Online Anita Blake 15 - The Harlequin by Laurell K. Hamilton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
Tags: Fantasy
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did it get?
Joan leaned in to us to whisper over the rising music. "Sorry, but Jean-Claude's orders are that just because you're dating a dancer, the holy item still doesn't get inside."
On one hand, it was good that she was good at her job. On the other hand, it was beginning to irritate me.
Two of the black-shirted security people came over to us. I think the hat and coat fooled them, too. They didn't act like they recognized either one of us. Lisandro was tall, dark, handsome, with shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail. He was a wererat, which meant somewhere on him was a gun. A quick glance didn't show it under the black T-shirt and jeans, so it was probably at the small of his back. The wererats were mostly ex-military, ex-police, or had never been on the "right" side of the law. They always went armed.
The other security guy was taller and way more muscled. The weight lifting meant he was probably a werehyena. Their leader had a thing for weight lifters.
"Anita," Lisandro said, "what's the holdup?"
"She wants my cross."
He looked at Joan. "She's Jean-Claude's human servant. She gets a pass."
The woman actually blushed and apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, and you being with Brandon. I…"
I held up a hand. "It's okay, really, just let us get out of the doorway." There was a crowd behind us that went out the door. Clay was peeking inside, wondering what was happening.
Lisandro helped us ease through the room away from the door, but not quite to the tables, closer to the drink area. I would have said bar area, but they weren't allowed to serve liquor. Yet another of the interesting zoning laws about strip clubs on this side of the river.
The weight lifter stayed near the door to help sort the crowd with Joan.
I could finally see who was dancing to the music. Byron was near the end of his act because he was down to a very small G-string. It left the pale, muscled body very bare. His short brown hair curled haphazardly, as if some of his customers had mussed it. A woman was stuffing money down the front of the G-string. I felt him use a small slap of power to capture her just enough to keep her hand out of his pants. It skirted the edge of legal, but the vamps had found that a tiny bit of control could keep them from getting hurt on stage. I'd seen bloody nail marks, and even a few bite marks, on Nathaniel and Jason. It was a lot more dangerous to strip for women than for men, apparently. All the dancers agreed that men behaved themselves better.
Byron writhed around the eager circle of women who surrounded the front of the stage. He laughed and joked. They ran hands over his body and rained money down on his skin. I'd had sex with him once, to feed the
ardeur
. We'd both enjoyed it, but Byron and I both agreed that it wasn't our cup of tea. That each other wasn't our cup of tea. Besides, the weight lifting helped him pass for eighteen, but he'd died at fifteen. Yeah, he was several hundred years old, but his body wasn't. His body was still that of an athletic teenager. I was still disturbed by the fact that I'd had sex with him. Also, Byron preferred men to women. He'd do bisexual, if it came his way, but he was one of the few men who spent more time ogling my boyfriends than me. I found that disturbing, too.
Jean-Claude was standing near the back of the stage, lost in shadow, letting Byron have his limelight. Jean-Claude turned to look at me, his pale face lost in the darkness of his hair and clothes. He breathed through my mind, "Await me in my office,
ma petite
."
Lisandro leaned over and whisper-shouted over the music, "Jean-Claude said to take you through to the office."
"Just now?" I asked, puzzled, because to my knowledge no one but me should have heard it.
Lisandro gave me a puzzled look back, and shook his head. "No, after you called. He said to take you back to the office when you got here."
I nodded and let him lead us to the door. Nathaniel had kept his hat and coat on. He didn't
Joan leaned in to us to whisper over the rising music. "Sorry, but Jean-Claude's orders are that just because you're dating a dancer, the holy item still doesn't get inside."
On one hand, it was good that she was good at her job. On the other hand, it was beginning to irritate me.
Two of the black-shirted security people came over to us. I think the hat and coat fooled them, too. They didn't act like they recognized either one of us. Lisandro was tall, dark, handsome, with shoulder-length hair tied back in a ponytail. He was a wererat, which meant somewhere on him was a gun. A quick glance didn't show it under the black T-shirt and jeans, so it was probably at the small of his back. The wererats were mostly ex-military, ex-police, or had never been on the "right" side of the law. They always went armed.
The other security guy was taller and way more muscled. The weight lifting meant he was probably a werehyena. Their leader had a thing for weight lifters.
"Anita," Lisandro said, "what's the holdup?"
"She wants my cross."
He looked at Joan. "She's Jean-Claude's human servant. She gets a pass."
The woman actually blushed and apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't know, and you being with Brandon. I…"
I held up a hand. "It's okay, really, just let us get out of the doorway." There was a crowd behind us that went out the door. Clay was peeking inside, wondering what was happening.
Lisandro helped us ease through the room away from the door, but not quite to the tables, closer to the drink area. I would have said bar area, but they weren't allowed to serve liquor. Yet another of the interesting zoning laws about strip clubs on this side of the river.
The weight lifter stayed near the door to help sort the crowd with Joan.
I could finally see who was dancing to the music. Byron was near the end of his act because he was down to a very small G-string. It left the pale, muscled body very bare. His short brown hair curled haphazardly, as if some of his customers had mussed it. A woman was stuffing money down the front of the G-string. I felt him use a small slap of power to capture her just enough to keep her hand out of his pants. It skirted the edge of legal, but the vamps had found that a tiny bit of control could keep them from getting hurt on stage. I'd seen bloody nail marks, and even a few bite marks, on Nathaniel and Jason. It was a lot more dangerous to strip for women than for men, apparently. All the dancers agreed that men behaved themselves better.
Byron writhed around the eager circle of women who surrounded the front of the stage. He laughed and joked. They ran hands over his body and rained money down on his skin. I'd had sex with him once, to feed the
ardeur
. We'd both enjoyed it, but Byron and I both agreed that it wasn't our cup of tea. That each other wasn't our cup of tea. Besides, the weight lifting helped him pass for eighteen, but he'd died at fifteen. Yeah, he was several hundred years old, but his body wasn't. His body was still that of an athletic teenager. I was still disturbed by the fact that I'd had sex with him. Also, Byron preferred men to women. He'd do bisexual, if it came his way, but he was one of the few men who spent more time ogling my boyfriends than me. I found that disturbing, too.
Jean-Claude was standing near the back of the stage, lost in shadow, letting Byron have his limelight. Jean-Claude turned to look at me, his pale face lost in the darkness of his hair and clothes. He breathed through my mind, "Await me in my office,
ma petite
."
Lisandro leaned over and whisper-shouted over the music, "Jean-Claude said to take you through to the office."
"Just now?" I asked, puzzled, because to my knowledge no one but me should have heard it.
Lisandro gave me a puzzled look back, and shook his head. "No, after you called. He said to take you back to the office when you got here."
I nodded and let him lead us to the door. Nathaniel had kept his hat and coat on. He didn't
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