Read Online Dark Destiny (Principatus) by Lexxie Couper - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lexxie Couper
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of carnal sin started within the nightclub, whether that act be murder or sex.
Raking his fingers through his windswept hair, he walked out of the filthy alley onto the infamous Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross’s main drag and Australia’s premier home of sex, drugs, hookers, pimps and five-star restaurants.
Strip-club hawkers, curious tourists, harried locals, barely dressed whores and overly dressed businessmen moved past him, most of the women and quite a few of the men giving him decidedly interested glances. Even while human he’d been considered good looking, but since his transformation…suffice to say, he had no problems finding companionship whenever he wanted it.
Funnily enough, since meeting Amy Mathieson, he hadn’t needed or wanted to go looking for it. The petite photographer satisfied all his desires. That didn’t stop his allure to the living however, and tonight was no exception. More than one human sized him up as he pushed past them. One tall, willowy blonde in skintight black latex pants and a blood-red bustier disengaged herself from the arms of a man dressed in a U.S. naval officer’s uniform and sashayed her way up to him, her smoldering blue eyes promising all sorts of fun. She stopped directly in his path and, without hesitation, placed her palm completely on his groin. “I’m yours if you want me.”
“Hey!” the sailor barked behind her.
Ven gently closed his fingers around her slender wrist and lifted her hand from his dick. “Not tonight, love. I’m in a hurry.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Pity. Would’ve been a freebie, too.”
Chuckling to himself, Ven turned away from the hooker and walked the few steps to the Pleasure Pussy’s entryway. A short, stout hawker with wild, bloodshot eyes shouted from the sidewalk, regaling anyone who would listen with a censored-for-human-ears list of the delights they would find within. He flicked Ven a quick look, inclining his head in a slight nod of recognition. The Pleasure Pussy was one of a few undercover nightclubs catering to Sydney’s non-human population, a high-end strip joint serving a plethora of beings a range of delicacies while gorgeous dancers who may or may not be human entertained those in the dark, shadowy booths.
Ven didn’t frequent the joint that often. He didn’t need to anymore, but the hawker still recognized him for what he was.
A tight fist of disquiet squeezed Ven’s still heart. For some reason, he was always recognized by Sydney’s underground otherworld.
Squashing his unease, he pulled in a steadying breath. Now was not the time to—
A subtle, delicate scent filled his being, almost hidden by the overpowering odor of beer, sex and sin hovering in the air. A scent of mysterious spices and menacing secrets. Her scent. Death was here. In the Pleasure Pussy.
Not caring about who saw him move or how many gasps his inhuman speed caused, Ven shot past the hawker into the dim, smoky nightclub.
He came to a fluid halt just inside the entry foyer, scanning the smoke-filled club with eyes already adapted to the dark light. Humans and non-humans alike moved about the cramped floor space, all enjoying themselves in various stages of conversation, copulation and consummation. Vampires fed from willingly offered necks, demons of all rank and ethos mingled with various species of weres. The distinct musky odor of lycanthrope filtered into Ven’s breath, threaded through the almost gagging stench of brimstone and ancient blood. Somewhere in the shrouded mix of patrons, a molekh obviously enjoyed itself. Ribbons of sickly-sweet pheromones wafted through the heavy air like delicate bands of iridescent light.
In the centre of the club’s arena, a semi-naked couple—the female petite, gorgeous and human, the male tall, stunning and fae—danced on the extended stage, their lithe bodies gleaming in the single golden spotlight tracking them. They writhed and pressed against each other, removing the skimpy items of
Raking his fingers through his windswept hair, he walked out of the filthy alley onto the infamous Darlinghurst Road, Kings Cross’s main drag and Australia’s premier home of sex, drugs, hookers, pimps and five-star restaurants.
Strip-club hawkers, curious tourists, harried locals, barely dressed whores and overly dressed businessmen moved past him, most of the women and quite a few of the men giving him decidedly interested glances. Even while human he’d been considered good looking, but since his transformation…suffice to say, he had no problems finding companionship whenever he wanted it.
Funnily enough, since meeting Amy Mathieson, he hadn’t needed or wanted to go looking for it. The petite photographer satisfied all his desires. That didn’t stop his allure to the living however, and tonight was no exception. More than one human sized him up as he pushed past them. One tall, willowy blonde in skintight black latex pants and a blood-red bustier disengaged herself from the arms of a man dressed in a U.S. naval officer’s uniform and sashayed her way up to him, her smoldering blue eyes promising all sorts of fun. She stopped directly in his path and, without hesitation, placed her palm completely on his groin. “I’m yours if you want me.”
“Hey!” the sailor barked behind her.
Ven gently closed his fingers around her slender wrist and lifted her hand from his dick. “Not tonight, love. I’m in a hurry.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Pity. Would’ve been a freebie, too.”
Chuckling to himself, Ven turned away from the hooker and walked the few steps to the Pleasure Pussy’s entryway. A short, stout hawker with wild, bloodshot eyes shouted from the sidewalk, regaling anyone who would listen with a censored-for-human-ears list of the delights they would find within. He flicked Ven a quick look, inclining his head in a slight nod of recognition. The Pleasure Pussy was one of a few undercover nightclubs catering to Sydney’s non-human population, a high-end strip joint serving a plethora of beings a range of delicacies while gorgeous dancers who may or may not be human entertained those in the dark, shadowy booths.
Ven didn’t frequent the joint that often. He didn’t need to anymore, but the hawker still recognized him for what he was.
A tight fist of disquiet squeezed Ven’s still heart. For some reason, he was always recognized by Sydney’s underground otherworld.
Squashing his unease, he pulled in a steadying breath. Now was not the time to—
A subtle, delicate scent filled his being, almost hidden by the overpowering odor of beer, sex and sin hovering in the air. A scent of mysterious spices and menacing secrets. Her scent. Death was here. In the Pleasure Pussy.
Not caring about who saw him move or how many gasps his inhuman speed caused, Ven shot past the hawker into the dim, smoky nightclub.
He came to a fluid halt just inside the entry foyer, scanning the smoke-filled club with eyes already adapted to the dark light. Humans and non-humans alike moved about the cramped floor space, all enjoying themselves in various stages of conversation, copulation and consummation. Vampires fed from willingly offered necks, demons of all rank and ethos mingled with various species of weres. The distinct musky odor of lycanthrope filtered into Ven’s breath, threaded through the almost gagging stench of brimstone and ancient blood. Somewhere in the shrouded mix of patrons, a molekh obviously enjoyed itself. Ribbons of sickly-sweet pheromones wafted through the heavy air like delicate bands of iridescent light.
In the centre of the club’s arena, a semi-naked couple—the female petite, gorgeous and human, the male tall, stunning and fae—danced on the extended stage, their lithe bodies gleaming in the single golden spotlight tracking them. They writhed and pressed against each other, removing the skimpy items of
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