He kept my legs pinned to the bed with his large hands, easily keeping me restrained with his vampire strength as I thrashed in his hold.
"One more time for me, baby," he urged as he slowed his tongue, now licking me at a leisurely pace. Every inch...
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London, United Kingdom 1965
I sat perched on the couch in our designated VIP section, my ankle resting on my knee as I slowly nursed a glass of scotch.
Furnace's bustling atmosphere tonight was like a breath of fresh air after the day I'd had, and it was as I remained rooted in my spot, observing the throng of sweaty bodies, that I once again realized that there'd be far more shitty days like these in store.
Eternal life and all that bullshit.
But I guess that's the price we have to pay, being who we are and wanting what we want. Nothing in life ever comes easy, even for the first ever vampires.
Sure, we could just compel our way through life—and sometimes we do—but it's always more satisfying when you earn what you have.
Today, there'd been countless meetings that Steve and I had to attend, and even more upgrades to the other three locations we're opening that needed to be signed off on. Every last one of them needs the underground level added and a few more bars installed, never mind the cosmetic improvements. A goddamn headache. All of it.
Sometimes it feels like we're biting off more than we can chew, but the desire to have a place like this available to my kind—and the other factions, of course—is far too overwhelming to worry about those fears. We've discovered that this type of environment is crucial to the supernatural race after opening the first location in Romania.
Neither Steve nor I were expecting Furnace to gain as much traction as it did in the short three years after we opened, and after witnessing firsthand the amount of people that flocked to Romania just to spend a single night in the underworld, we knew we needed to expand. And we needed to do it quickly.
So, we grew.
And grew and grew.
Which brings us here, to London—our sixth location following Romania, Paris, Rome, Berlin and Tokyo—on an overcrowded Friday night, further proving my point. Furnace is the biggest night club around, and yet somehow, it's still not big enough. Not nearly enough room to appease the general public, much less the arcane society we belong to. No, own.
"Iisus, (Jesus,)" I muttered under my breath, bringing the rim of the glass to my lips and taking a long, stressful sip, a migraine in my right lobe forming quickly as the same trying thoughts make another appearance.
I should have just gone home.
That would have been the smarter choice; catching up on paperwork and signing off on decisions, rather than trying to drown my problems out with the exact same liquor I had sitting in my office there. I wouldn't have had to deal with people or the incessant pounding in my head, only further worsening thanks to the loud music.
