Werewolf Mafia » Places

         

Too many vampires.

Positioned as he was, lecherous devils stacked on both sides as they all sat around their assigned booth, Harlan remarked on that particular thought for the umpteenth time, with increasing bitterness. These annual meetings were unpleasant at the best of times, and sickeningly unbearable at the worst. Every exchange of faux friendly words felt like shards of glass in his throat, and he didn’t doubt that his lack of interest in exchanging false niceties had not gone unnoticed.

Too. many. fucking. vampires.

He adjusted his shirt collar and took yet another sip of his drink, letting the cool liquid wash away his discomfort. It was a temporary relief, but a relief nonetheless. His eyes moved around the room searchingly, hovering every so often when he spotted one of his own, and didn’t return their focus to the table until the music began. His impatience pulled forth a deep sigh; not because he was eager to survey the provided entertainment, but simply because he wished this night would end already. Regardless, he found some solace in the idea that if these dancers upheld the establishment’s reputation, his associates might at least shut the fuck up for a while.

Harlan leaned back in his seat, watching with suddenly undivided attention as the three women took their places, the blonde featuring most prominently on display. She was beautiful. They all were, of course. There was something about the blonde though, and it irked him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on why she so effortlessly stole his focus. He drank in every sordid detail, so thoroughly consumed by her movements that he hadn’t spared enough concentration toward his formerly concerted effort to keep his expression neutral. The faintest hint of a half-smile ticked a single corner of his lips upward; a clear show of approval.

When a familiar figure stepped into his line of sight, Harlan’s fingers tightened almost dangerously around his glass. Shit. There were very few reasons Kilian would be bold enough to approach this table, and Harlan could only venture a guess at how much he was going to hate the news that followed. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he began, not really bothering to catch the growl that brought a clear edge to his tone, and gestured for the others to clear him a path to stand. It hadn’t occurred to him to offer any sort of explanation for his sudden departure; he wordlessly followed Kilian as the younger wolf pulled him to one side.

“We’ve got an… unauthorised stowaway.”

Kai.

“Where is she?” he asked without skipping a beat, but as it turned out, Kilian didn’t even need to answer. There was a small scuffle forming a little ways from them, visible just out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Lewan attempting to wrestle the girl into his oversized suit jacket, presumably to save whatever he could of her modesty. She protested loudly, catching him in the jaw with the outstretched ball of her palm, and shrugging her one arm out of the jacket as soon as she had the freedom to move. He wasn’t close enough to hear the profanity Lewan rattled off with any clarity, but the shit-eating grin pulling at Kai’s lips clued him in to how colourful it must’ve been.

Harlan started toward them in an instant, closing that considerable distance with only a few strides, and caught Kai’s arm in a firm grip. “I told you—”

“Ah, well technically, you didn’t actually tell me I couldn’t come,” Kai interjected, stumbling a little as Harlan continued to pull her toward the exit, before digging her heels into the ground enough to halt him in place. “You just said you didn’t think it was safe for me to come. So really, I didn’t do anything wrong, and since we’re already here...”

“We?”

Kai blinked, a frown beginning to push her brows together. She’d been caught out, and it was her own slip-up this time. With a sulkily half-assed gesture, she pointed off in some vague direction, but it was easy enough to spot the sight she’d been directing him towards. Hunkered awkwardly behind a waitress that could have easily been a whole foot shorter than him, Arlo was attempting to sneak past the pair, eyes fixed on Harlan. When their sights clashed, the young Delta froze in place, the waitress carrying on ahead of him.

“Of all the fucking nights,” Harlan snapped loudly, earning a cautious flinch from the girl still held captive in his grip. He pushed her arm away with a sigh, before gesturing Kilian forward. “Keep them out of trouble, at least?” The Beta nodded slowly, looking a little dismayed but unwilling to complain aloud. Harlan turned to Kai again. “No trouble. No drinking. And stay-”

“Stay away from those damn dirty vampires,” Kai finished for him, puffing her chest out with her fists pressed hard against her hips, donning the deepest voice she could manage to mimic the warning she’d received a hundred times over. “I know.”

***

Center stage always produced a weird headspace for Darcy, an unfocused awareness that allowed her to simply move with the music, and not think too deeply about anything else beyond that, and the front table. Sometimes she’d kept her eyes fixed on a single person, someone who looked kind, or a little lonely, or maybe even just handsome in that rugged way she didn’t often have time to acknowledge, and for a little while she could pretend this was something other than what it was. At first, it had started out as a survival tactic, a state her mind could slip into and ignore the initial mortification she’d felt the first time she’s been shoved out in front of a crowd in little more than a bikini and platform heels.

Twirling on the pole, working in athletics flourishes as her feet left the ground, Darcy felt a little more in control. Per house rules, while on the stage, she was untouchable, an admittedly rare feeling in most other aspects of her life. The booth in front of her was full tonight. Searching for a face, she scanned the assembly, but outside of Reynes, who was a stomach rolling option for many reasons, they were all strangers to her. One man in the bunch though, drew in her gaze, and with dark eyes she could practically feel watching her, and the smallest quirk of his lips, he fell solidly in the ruggedly handsome camp. It’s possible she may have shown off a bit while he stared, pulling off a one handed triple twirl that spun the tassels of her skirt up enough to give a teasing peak at what was underneath.

Partway through the set though, Darcy caught glimpse of another figure stepping up to the table.There was no chance of hearing what he said, but in a matter of moments, he, and the man her own focus had settled on, were striding away. She tried to not let it mess up her rhythm, reigning in her natural curiosity about what had led to this sudden shift. By now, she should know better than to butt into someone else’s business, especially someone powerful enough to be a guest of Malachai Reynes. Darcy’s curious musings were cut off though, as she caught a different pair of eyes watching her in a manner that had him pegged for a vampire without question. She tried not to shudder, since that was hardly the appearance the club was known for, but it was hard as that stare fixed on her like she was about to be dinner. Darcy had been fed on before, it was hard to work at the Scarlet Letter for any amount of time, especially in this role, and avoid it. And god she hated it. Darcy had talked with enough of the other workers here to know her pain response wasn’t normal. There was supposed to be a numbing sensation, disorientation, even a feeling of euphoria. Shooting pain that felt like acid being poured on an open wound certainly wasn’t what anyone else had described. The look she gave this man was decisively less friendly, hoping to ward off any ideas lurking behind those hungry eyes. Darcy had agreed to one fucking set, just filling in. She sure as hell wasn’t working the back rooms. Not tonight, or ever again if she could help it.

As the music began to fade away, signaling the cue for the next set, Darcy was happy to escape that look and head down the side stage. Her intent had been to head back toward the dressing room and put on some fucking pants, but before she could make it, her eyes caught on something that had her slipping off her heels, and practically sprinting toward the bar.

***

“I’ll get the table, just hang back in the kitchen for a bit.” Benji murmured comfortingly as Leanna’s shaking hands gripped the drink order. The Stratton vamps were always a rough bunch to handle, even for the seasoned servers. At sixteen and barely a week on the job, the young witch he ushered to the shelter of the back was not even remotely prepared to deal with them. Steeling himself for an unpleasant interaction, Benji mixed up the drinks for the table, and tried to plaster on his best placid smile.

“Sorry about the wait.” Benji said in a tone aiming for pleasant as he began setting the drinks down at their table. Two of the vampires grunted with a mildly disgruntled look, having clearly been waiting for their waitress to return, and were less than pleased with her replacement. The third watched him more thoughtfully though, and Benji found he much prefered the annoyance of the other two. As he laid down the final drink, Benji shifted the tray in front of him casually, like a shield, while holding up his pad of paper with clear intent. “Can I get you boys anything else from the bar while I’m here?” He asked with strictly trained politeness, though he couldn’t make the false friendliness reach his eyes.

“I’m hungry.” The vampire who'd been watching him intently announced bluntly with a curving smile Benji didn’t trust. Instinctively, the witch took a halting step back, though he tried to disguise the move by pulling a pen out of his apron pocket. “We’ve got onion rings and loaded potato soup on as specials tonight. I can bring an order out for the table, or bring you guys a full menu out to decide if you’d like?” Benji offered, purposefully refusing to acknowledge the intended meaning, and edged back to beat a subtle retreat.

“I don’t need to see a menu.” He said with finality, hand shooting out faster than Benji could jump away from, and wrapping around his wrist. He tried to tug it free, face flushing in mortified annoyance to realize he was being toyed with, given just enough slack to struggle, but with no chance of loosening that hold.

“We don’t provide that kind of service at the bar.” Benji warned lowly, hand warming slightly as he tried to summon some sparks. This kind of offensive move was unreliable at best though, even with practice, and the vampire’s arm barely jerked as Benji brought it down on the arm holding him in place. The vampire just laughed, a gratingly condescending sound, and Benji found himself yanked into his lap, free hand gripping hold of Benji’s hair as his head was yanked back for better access to his neck.

“WAIT STAFF IS OFF LIMITS ASSHOLE!” Came a familiar shout, as a streak of silver came flashing across Benji’s view. His sister, looking pissed as all hell and still in her stage outfit, was currently trying to pummel the vampire holding him with her three inch silver heels. Relief and horror raged for prominence at the utter absurdity of the sight, but fear won out at the dawning realization that Darcy was picking a fight she couldn’t hope to win.

***

Harlan leant against the bar, fresh drink in hand, eyeing the table he reckoned he would need to return to at some point before the evening was through. They hadn’t discussed much of real worth yet, he noted with an audible sigh of resignation. Still, however it might be taken in the others’ eyes, he planned to take advantage of the momentary break from being surrounded by so many vampires, even if only for a few more minutes.

Arlo stood directly to his left, and Harlan couldn’t help but make note of the several occasions in which the boy went to speak but promptly (and disappointingly) lost his nerve.

“I don’t blame you for this,” Harlan began, impatience bringing an edge to his tone where he’d meant the words to be of a more reassuring nature.

Arlo was a little confused, but shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let her—”

Harlan’s hand ticked upward in a manner so subtle, it might’ve been missed entirely if Arlo hadn’t been watching the older wolf like a hawk, but that one gesture was so authoritative in itself, he abruptly cut his own sentence short. There came a short pause, wherein Harlan made sure he held the boy’s focus before he spoke again. “We could’ve locked her in a padded cell and she still would’ve found a way into this bar. She’s resourceful like that,” he explained, almost sounding amused. “I don’t blame you for this. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Arlo nodded. It wasn’t worth arguing, he knew.

“How’s it going over there?” the younger man asked, still feeling the weight of that awkwardness between them—prompted by nothing more than his own guilt—but attempting to push past it. Those were the boss’ orders, after all. Harlan knocked back the remainder of his drink as if to answer that question without even needing to, and Arlo chuckled light-heartedly in response. “Business as usual, then.”

“Seems to be.” Harlan set his empty drink down and turned to Arlo. “I should head back. Keep a low profile if you can, and help the others keep an eye on Kai. If she gets into any trouble while she’s here, you’ll share in her punishment. Got it?”

Arlo’s expression fell flat again. “Of course, Boss.”

Harlan began making his way over to the booth, not in any kind of rush, when a nearby scuffle easily stole away his focus and halted him in place. He watched with a mix of amusement and pure horror as a blonde, which he’d pegged as one of the dancers from a little earlier in the night, struck—or was attempting to strike—a man with a silver heel gripped tightly in her hand, while another struggled in his lap. The second struck him as oddly familiar in a way he couldn’t exactly place, but something was carrying him closer to the scene before he even had a chance to acknowledge that curiosity, and then it seemed to hit him all at once.

He’d only seen the boy in pictures snapped hastily and at considerable distances away, from around corners and across busy streets, but there was an unquestionable resemblance between them. Closing that distance only served to confirm it in Harlan’s mind, when he got a much better look. This was the boy who’d been dating his son. Benjamin Lewis. It had to be.

Kilian and Lewan were by his side when he arrived, and Harlan felt emboldened by their presence. He reached out and grabbed the blonde by her weapon-wielding arm, but made no move to pull her to one side, and he would’ve released her arm if she chose to pull away. His goal had only been to keep her still and prevent her from attacking, if that’s what she’d been trying to do, while his own stare was fixed on the vampire. “Let the boy go,” he warned calmly.

Both Betas knew better than to openly question their Alpha’s motives, but the glances they exchanged between themselves were clear indicators that this sort of move was unusual for Harlan, and they weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. They had not been kept in the loop for this particular secret, strangely enough. To them, this unfamiliar boy was just that; a stranger, with no connection or relevance to the pack.

“This doesn’t need to get messy.”

***

“Bitch!” The vampire holding her brother hissed, fangs bared and eyes flashing, though better at her than buried in her brother’s neck. She sneered right back, none too pleased herself, raising the shoe for another strike, when suddenly she found a hand gripping her arm, holding her back. Her eyes shot to the man holding her, recognizing him immediately as one of the VIPs from the boss’s booth, the one she’s been watching while she danced. His grip was firm but oddly not demanding as his own stare was firmly fixed on the vampire holding Benji, the deep timber of his voice an unsubtle command as two others flanked him in a show of silent support. All the vamps at the table, except the one gripping her brother, stood up at that, fangs out and at the ready.

“Fucking werewolves think they can tell us what to do now?” One sneered, jeered on by the others. The one still seated narrowed his eyes searchingly at the apparent werewolf holding Darcy. She hadn’t made a move to free herself yet, trying not to make any sudden moves with the rising tension.

“I’m claiming my piece for the evening. How bouts you piss off and find your own eh?” The seated vampire returned with an unpleasant pointed smile. Benji gave an indignant grunt at that, still struggling stubbornly to wrestle free.

“Those are not the house rules and you know it!” Darcy growled, fingers angrily tightening around the shoe in her hand. Feeding on the floor wasn’t allowed without consent, or payment up front, and the bar and kitchen staff were never pulled for that.

“I don’t have to explain myself to a tractor whore.” He sneered the insult with all the snide superiority Darcy was used to in this place, and which never ceased to send a flush of anger and helpless shame to her cheeks. “Special hospitality of your boss, we get to pick out any which ones of you little blood bags we want tonight. Maybe one of my boys here’ll pick you up if you’re feeling lonely?” He laughed, eyes flicking back to the werewolf.

“If she’s yours already, then keep your whore in check, and beat it. Before we decide to take our meal a little higher up the food chain.” He threatened without subtlety.

***

Harlan had always known these vampires were a rotten bunch at the best of times. He himself was no saint; he’d fucked over his fair share of innocent people in his lifetime, and that number would no doubt continue to skyrocket during his reign as Alpha. Even so, the way they spoke about people—or in their words, ‘blood bags’—made him sick to his stomach, and his face made no secret of his disgust as he stared down the vampire who, a little insultingly, had remained seated throughout the dispute.

There was something about his choice of words regarding the blonde that struck a nerve in Harlan, but in the spite of the way his anger flared, he wasn’t about to let that battle steal the focus. Forcing and maintaining a steadily neutral expression, he at least seemed unperturbed by the presence of so many hostile vampires.

Lewan, on the other hand, looked about ready to pounce; his nose was crinkled with the beginnings of a snarl, fingers curling into tight fists before splaying outward, and back again. Everything about his stance, the fiery look in his eyes, was a challenge, like he was just begging them to give him a reason to let loose. “Try it, you upjumped parasite,” he sneered under his breath. “I’ll make a real show of plucking those fangs right outta your mouth.”

With the girl still in hand, Harlan gestured her to one side, making sure not to pull her beyond her own pace, and loosened his grip on her wrist when she was adequately out of the way. Kilian took over from there, ushering her to the back of the group while Harlan stepped forward, looming over the seated vampire. “I do hope you’re not about to make me repeat myself,” he spoke again, his tone dry—almost low enough to be a growl—but still erring on the side of calm confidence. He lifted his arms languidly and began unclasping his cufflinks.

***

There was something about his voice, Darcy thought with a vague shiver, as she found herself ushered back. The werewolf who’d held her arm had to be powerful, he’d never be invited as a guest at Reynes’ booth otherwise. It was more than just that though. He carried himself with an unhurried confidence, his voice far from the loudest or most forceful in this conversation, yet dripped with an authority even she could pick up on. Her eyes jumped between him and her brother, internally warring between concern for her brother, still very much in the clutches of a hungry vampire, and the instinct to keep an eye on the most dangerous predator in her space.

The vampire holding her brother had paused, eyes narrowed on the man again as if trying to place his face. He seemed to recognize the man a second too late though, as one of his vampire cohorts lunged at the other werewolf who had spoken a challenge. The vampire’s fangs sunk into the werewolf’s shoulder, upending one of the tables in the process. “Shit!” The seated vampire cursed, shoving Benji to the ground as he finally got to his feet in a defensive stance, clearly expecting a fight.

“What’s all this now?” Reynes voice boomed out above the fray with magical aid, another of the men from the booth at his side as Darcy’s boss approached. By the startled looks on the vampires’ faces at his approach, and how the vampire who’d bitten the werewolf immediately began backing off, she guessed that it was Stratton himself.

“Ricar, why are you making a scene while I’m busy with business?” Stratton intoned with clear annoyance that he’d been forced to come address his underlings.

“We didn’t start it!” Ricar, the vampire who’d been manhandling Benji, replied defensively, his eyes suddenly shooting to her. “We were just taking advantage of the hospitality, when that one,” He pointed an accusatory finger her way, “Came squawking outta nowhere about it, and then they just showed up. We weren't trying to bother you boss.”

Reynes gaze shot her way in an instant, clearly displeased, and she tried to school her expression into something that displayed a little less loathing. “My deepest apologies to you both. Mr. Lewis is a special case, off limits, but my staff does not make it a habit of being so rude to our guests for simple misunderstandings. She’ll be suitably punished I assure you. Please accept an evening in the VIP section with any of the dancers to your liking. On the house for the inconvenience.” He interjected smoothly to Stratton and the werewolf who was clearly an Alpha from the deference in her boss’s voice, in a move clearly meant to mitigate the damage.

***

When the situation finally escalated, Lewan found himself caught off guard. He’d been expecting an attack, he’d practically left himself wide open to receive it, but not from the one that lunged at him. He felt the fangs in his shoulder before he could process what had happened, and just about managed to steady himself before the impact could topple him backwards.

A pained yell exploded from Lewan’s lips, and he was in the process of bringing his arms up to answer with a blow of his own before a powerful, near-deafening voice seemed to halt everyone in place. Lewan let out a ragged breath, blinking against the feeling of venom already working its way through his system. There was a steadying hand at his back, and a sudden presence at his side which he knew belonged to Harlan. He instinctively leant into it.

Kilian appeared in front of him, working the man’s tie loose and pulling at layers of clothing until the bite was visible. He hissed at the sight of it; the bite was a messy one, and the bleeding showed no signs of slowing any time soon. To his credit, Lewan was taking it like a champ, but anyone could see that he was beginning to struggle. Kilian’s hands lingered on Lewan’s shoulders, smoothing down his chest. He was chewing his lip nervously.

One of Lewan’s own hands ghosted down the length of the shorter man’s back, where it hovered at his waist for the briefest of moments before being pulled back. “I’m fine, don’t start fussing,” he grumbled, the lack of volume adding a notable softness to his voice as the two men locked eyes. Kilian answered with only a nod, as if he didn’t trust himself to say anything with so many people surrounding them, and promptly took a few steps backwards.

Kilian turned to Harlan then, one eyebrow quirked upward. It was a question that didn’t need to be spoken aloud, it may have even been more of an outright expectation from the concerned Beta, and which drew a heavy exhale of breath from Harlan, followed by a single nod of his own. “You should take him home then, let him sleep it off. I can handle things from here.”

“But—” Lewan tried to interject and was silenced when both men, in comedic unison, cut him a sideways stare that dared him to try to finish that sentence. He looked down, nudging the overturned table with the edge of his shoe, and grumbling something inaudible about how embarrassing this was. Kilian put both hands on the sulking man’s shoulders and began walking him backwards toward the exit, and Harlan lifted a hand to scratch at his beard as he watched them leave, wondering how he might go about saving face after an incident like this.

He still hadn’t so much as acknowledged Reynes’ offer. That kind of thing might have worked easily on the vampire scum he was used to appeasing, but Harlan—rampant philanderer or not—had too much to be concerned with at present, and couldn’t justify accepting it.

For the time being, he turned to the pair from earlier, eyeing the girl in particular. “My sincerest apologies for grabbing you like that,” he offered, subtly scanning her wrist for any signs of developing bruises. He had tried not to hold her with too firm a grip, but he was never entirely sure when it came to non-wolves. “Will you... be okay?”

***

The men were talking, and Darcy did her best not to show her annoyance over being all but dismissed from the conversation while clearly being talked about. Or worry too much about what kind of punishment Reynes has in mind precisely. Hard to tell with the slippery sorcerer to be honest. While they were busy tending to and dismissing their own from the bar, Darcy slipped over to her brother, helping him up from where he’d landed on the floor. “You’re alright? Did he bite you?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll be fine. You shouldn’t do things like that though.” Benji chastised in whispered tones, the adrenaline finally beginning to catch up with him. He watched some of the werewolves and the Stratton underling clear out with a watchful eye noting the hungry look Ricar shot him on his way out with displeasure. Not all vampires were bad, it was a fact Benji was intimately aware of, but men with a taste for power were trouble at the best of times, without throwing supernatural strength and head spinning narcotics secreted from their fangs into the mix. His sister, brave and clever as she was prone to be in stressful situations, wasn’t a match against that kind of applied brute strength, and a shudder of apprehension worked down his spine at the thought of what could have happened to her. Or still might, he thought angrily as his eyes caught Stratton’s gaze on his sister, his hand gripping the edge of the table in a white knuckled grasp. That look was heated and assessing, his face a little too openly eager as he whispered with Reynes.

“Yeah well, I didn’t see anyone else riding into your rescue. Yet.” Darcy scoffed dismissively, oblivious to her brother’s rising ire, as her own green eyes flicked up to glance at the man who had, oddly enough, attempted to interject on her brother’s behalf. She didn’t know what his motives for doing so were exactly, but she was self aware enough to be grateful for it.

“I think you should leave while you can.” Benji whispered urgently. Subtly trying to edge his sister towards the kitchens and the service exit he knew like the back of his hand. Reynes would be angry for sure, but better that than letting one of the most powerful vampires in the city drag his sister to the back rooms. Men like that didn’t worry about handling the workers with care. Accidents happened, especially frequently with men like that. They didn’t worry about drinking someone dry, or carelessly snapping a neck or two. That plan, and their exit, was cut off though as the werewolf who’d tried to help them earlier approached them.

Darcy was more surprised than anything else, as the Alpha came over to ask after her, even apologize for grabbing her. It was certainly a first in a place like this, and it startled her into honesty. “It’s alright. You didn’t hurt me.” The second part was harder to answer, eyes glancing back to the conspiratorial huddle of her boss and Stratton before she could think better of it. That wasn’t his fault or problem though, so she wasn’t about to lay it at his feet. “Thanks for what you tried to do though.” She said instead. “I...appreciate it. Not many people would have bothered."

***

Harlan’s eyes were a little too sharp not to catch the way hers travelled past him, turning his head in the others’ direction long enough to gauge her concerns, before returning to the pair. He felt for them both, he really did. Surprisingly complicated though those feelings may have been, especially towards the boy, all things considered, he didn’t truly know either of them and his involvement in their affairs, let alone his unwarranted concern for their respective wellbeing, had already started to border on strange.

When she expressed her gratitude, he nodded politely, though his expression read more amused than anything else, one eyebrow raised to accompany the beginnings of a half-smile. “Yes, well… not many people would attempt to bludgeon a vampire with a three-inch silver heel, either,” he retorted with a laugh. “I’d say I’m not winning any awards in this category tonight.”

***

Darcy’s cheeks flushed red at the teasing reminder, standing up a little bit straighter with as much dignity as she could muster in this getup. “Yeah well, we work with the tools we’re given, and these are very dangerous weapons in my skilled hands I’ll have you know.” She retorted with a touch of teasing of her own, and a spin of the before mentioned shoe in her hand. “Besides we can’t all be tall muscular werewolves with that ‘You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry’ alpha voice to pull out whenever a vamp starts getting fresh.” She grinned up at him, doing her best impression of his intimidating timber from before, and missing by a mile. Looking at him now though, laughter in those whisky brown eyes, and humor quirking his lips, he didn’t look nearly as scary, if dangerous for an entirely different reason.

“Darcy, get over here!” Reynes called sharply, suddenly cutting through the moment of levity. She turned from the handsome not quite stranger who had proven himself a halfway decent sort if nothing else, and at her boss, stomach dropping as she caught the utterly satisfied look on Stratton’s face as his eyes gave her the undressing once over. In a moment of unguarded weakness, she shuddered, It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together about what arrangement they’d just come to, given Reynes’ earlier promise. The humor drained from her face, replaced by a blank professionalism that was better than outright revulsion.

“Darcy don’t!” Benji whispered, real fear in his eyes as he tried to block her way. “You know what he’s like back there!”

“You know what the boss’ll do if I don’t.” She returned flatly, trying to force a wane smile for his sake. No wasn’t an option at this point, so with as brave a face as she could muster, she slid her shoes back on, remarkably without hands shaking, and slipped around her brother to make her way over as commanded. Her boss did not like to be kept waiting.

***

As the blonde bit back with some cheeky comments of her own, Harlan’s smile bloomed into a full grin, and the laughter came to him freely and easily, for the first time that evening. He felt strangely grateful for that, circumstances momentarily set aside. He held his hands up placatingly at her attempts to tease him for his earlier display, shaking his head with another gentle chuckle. Whatever retort had begun to form on his lips, he wasn’t given the chance to continue their (admittedly rather enjoyable) banter, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

Upon turning to the source of that interruption, his mood and expression was soured with an efficiency only possible for the likes of Reynes and Stratton. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t until Benji expressed his concern aloud that Harlan clocked what was happening. Stratton had requested the girl, Darcy, as his entertainment for the night. Harlan had become so invested in their surprisingly easy chemistry, even if only for a minute or two, he allowed himself to forget the messiness of their situation—of her situation.

Fuck.

“Wait,” he called after her, closing the distance between them in a single stride to catch Darcy’s attention and hopefully halt her in place. He didn’t put his hands on her again; there was no need for it. “The promise your boss made to Stratton, he also made to me,” he reminded her, shooting her what he hoped was a knowing look. “I can make this situation a little less awful for you, so you won’t get hurt or toyed with, but I need your consent here. I need to know I can make that kind of move.” He cast a quick glance toward Stratton, then back at Darcy. “Tell me it’s okay, and I’ll help you. I promise.”

***

Darcy was caught off guard as the werewolf strode after her, apparently not done playing the white knight this evening. He’d helped more than she had any right to expect already, but as he laid out the beginnings of his plan, a tiny spark of hope she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine before took root. Stratton had a reputation for a reason, he enjoyed knocking girls around before getting down to any of the rest of that awfulness. She’d be a fool not to be at least a little afraid of going back there with him. And it didn’t hurt that the man offering to step in as the alternative was ruggedly handsome with a kind smile. Did he really understand what he was doing though? Stratton also had a reputation for being utterly vindictive, and he wasn’t likely to forgive what she suspected the werewolf had in mind.

“Okay, I consent.” Darcy began in agreement, green eyes meeting his in seriousness. “But only if you understand what you’re risking if you do this. Stratton...he’s petty. He broke a girl’s arm in three places once just for spilling a drink at his table. Something like this he’s not going to forget, so I don’t want you getting yourself involved in more trouble than you’re willing to sign up for.” She warned honestly.

***

“Better he aims that pettiness at me than at you,” Harlan answered with firm confidence, clearly committed to this plan of action. “Besides, I doubt I would’ve gotten very far in my position if I worried too much about bruising some egos here and there. I’ll be fine.”

He would have been lying outright if he had ever dared claim he wasn’t worried at all, though. The protection he was offering this girl had its obvious limits. When the night inevitably came to a close, so would their connection to one another. Harlan wasn’t about to whisk her away to join the ranks of his pack, nor would he ever return to this bar if he could reasonably avoid it. What would become of her then? Those thoughts culminated in a knot that settled in the pit of his stomach, churning it, and he looked at Darcy with a suddenly weary frown, before gesturing her forward. “Stay close to me, I’ll… I’ll figure something out,” he told her quietly.

When they were a little closer, Harlan had already regained much of the composure he’d briefly let slip in Darcy’s presence, and his gaze shifted slowly from Stratton to Reynes. “I’m afraid I’ve already taken an interest in this one,” he began to explain, managing not to visibly flinch with disgust at even hearing himself speak the words aloud, and hating how out of sorts he felt because of it. “If it’s all the same to you, Stratton, considering it was one of mine who suffered a casualty and all,” he reminded the man, wearing a polite smile so obviously fake, he didn’t bother to pretend it was meant as anything but smug and mocking. “We’ll call it a gesture of goodwill, hm? For the continuation of our… amicable business dealings. Sound fair?”

***

Darcy’s eyes softened a bit at his words, a nice sentiment, even if she didn’t exactly agree that his being in the line of fire was preferable. For now, she didn’t argue past a snort, and did her best to follow his lead. As they made it back to her boss together, and he went through his script, she watched the two men’s faces carefully. Stratton looked annoyed, but the reasoning given was above board enough that he couldn’t really protest, for now. Reynes’ look was harder to decipher, more guarded as he looked between them oddly.

“Why of course, only fair.” Reynes agreed with an ease Darcy hadn’t expected. A part of her was immediately suspicious, but she didn’t have time to ponder on it before he was waving them away toward the back. “Darcy, take our esteemed guest for some proper hospitality. The Blue Room should be open tonight. You know where it is.” He shot that last barb at the end, a little petty reminder, that she was certainly not in the clear with him. Taking the hand of the man who taken up the cause of her rescuer though, she refused to acknowledge the embarrassment the comment was meant to cause outside a brief narrowed look, heading toward the back.