Over The Edge [On The Edge Series] Read online

  "Don't even move a muscle."

  Lisa's voice was soft, strong, trembling on the last word. Brett froze instantly, unable to deny her request. He bit softly on his bottom lip to stop himself from making a sound as Leo pulled away from Lisa and she lowered her legs, as graceful as a ballerina. He saw her waver, for just an instant, but her footing was steady when she climbed out of the shower. With water droplets sliding lazily over her body, she approached Brett with slow, sure steps, a dangerous cat stalking her prey. Behind her, the water stopped cascading over the tiles, but Brett couldn't manage to take his eyes off her to see what Leo was doing.

  She advanced close enough that her entire body was just an inch away from his. All Brett had to do was breathe a little more deeply, and his chest would expand to meet hers, her still distended nipples would brush against the silky material of his shirt, and ... and she had asked him not to move.

  Her left hand pulled Brett's hand away from his cock. Her right replaced it.

  "Did you like the show?” She leaned in just a little more, so that her words were a caress against his lips. Her hand tightened on his cock, and she smiled. “No, don't tell me. I know you did. You could have joined in, you know."

  She didn't give him a chance to answer, closing in to press her mouth to his. Her tongue slid over his lips before pushing past them. At the same instant, her hand started moving: long, tight pulls that had his cock throbbing again after only seconds. He stroked her tongue at the same languid pace as her caresses. A quiet groan rose in his throat as pleasure returned, still beyond his grasp. He closed his eyes to try to coax it closer, but it remained unattainable.

  He felt Lisa move against him and press against his side just before her hand let go of him. He opened his eyes again and started protesting, but the protest died on his lips, swallowed by Lisa's suddenly fiercer kiss, when another mouth covered the head of his cock. Whatever had been keeping his orgasm out of his reach suddenly broke, but now the long awaited release felt like it had arrived too soon. Leo's mouth had barely been wrapped around his cock for a second, it seemed, and already it was retreating, suckling gently. Brett wished it had stayed a little longer.

  But then that clever, sinful mouth was trailing up his body, the touch even more of a torment because Brett could only feel it through the material of his shirt. Finally, Leo reached the crook of Brett's neck and the two puckered scars there.

  "You should join us, next time,” Leo murmured. He racked his teeth against the healing bite, not hard enough to reopen it, but sensually enough that Brett trembled.

  Lisa's lips pulled away, and Brett didn't have the power or even the presence of mind to try to catch them back. He saw her tilt her head as she looked at him, saw her smile.

  "Don't worry,” she answered Leo. “Next time, he will."

  Brett couldn't manage to push words past his tight throat, but as he let them pull him back to bed, his clothes peeled away from him before they reached it, he could only privately agree. Watching was lovely, but playing had its merits too.

  If this was what he would miss when leaving them, it would certainly make going down to the club to work a much more complicated affair.

  Chapter 2

  It was long past noon when Leo followed Brett down to the club. He observed him walking down the steps with a purposeful, determined stride that echoed down the narrow staircase and couldn't help but notice that this man was much different from the one he had just watched prepare his lunch of stir fry vegetables and chicken, as comfortable in his kitchen as a cook might have been. Different also from the man who looked at Lisa with enough devotion in his eyes to fill the sky. Even his scent was shifting, an edge of confidence building with each step down, and Leo was impatient to get to know more closely the businessman he had only glimpsed in the loft.

  After their impromptu time in the bathroom, they had all fallen into bed for some heavy petting that hadn't turned into anything more when Brett had fallen asleep between Leo and Lisa. Leo had watched her card her fingers through his hair, the gesture almost tender, and listened as she explained with amused fondness that Brett was overworking himself at the club and that a few more hours of sleep would do him good.

  "Why don't you step behind the bar and mix me something?"

  They had reached the ground level. Brett opened the door that would lead them to the club, and Leo chided himself for being surprised at the semi dark space that greeted them. It was of course much too early for the club to be open, and the only light came from emergency exit signs glowing softly around the spacious room.

  "No alcohol,” Brett continued, “it's a bit too early for that. Juice, soda, fruit. Can you do anything with that?"

  "If my employment depends on it, I should be able to,” Leo said distractedly, a dozen combinations jumping to the front of his mind. “Any preferences?"

  "Just surprise me."

  The hint of laughter in his voice when he said that hinted at surprises more naughty than a simple drink, but he was already walking away when Leo looked at him. He threw a glance and a grin back over his shoulder. “I'll get the loft key in my office. I'll be right back."

  There was quite enough light for Leo to find his way to the bar in the center of the room. He easily avoided the tables spread out over the floor. The chairs weren't around them like they had been the previous night, but rather perched upside down on the tables. It looked and smelled as though the cleaning personnel had already readied the club for the next night.

  The lights flickered on as Leo reached the bar island. Designed as a square of counters on a platform just a step higher than the ground, it was lined with high stools on all four sides. Leo had to walk around two sides to find the opening and then remove a couple of stools from the counter to swing the chest-high door open and step behind the bar. It was larger than it seemed, the carefully organized space beneath the counter adding to the impression, and he took a few moments to carefully inspect what he had to work with.

  One side of the bar was made of shelves upon shelves of glasses of all shapes and sizes, waiting to be filled with the most innocent of drinks—or something much stronger. At each end, large clear plastic buckets seemed ready to hold ice. In the center of the next side, a recessed sink was at perfect height for a quick wash, with trays on each side to welcome the glasses. Beneath that, three beer kegs and three soda ones were lined up and ready, a stainless hose coiled on top of each. The next side held rows of alcohol and syrup bottles, the most common ones being on a row of hanging shelves that lined the entire bar, a foot over Leo's head and within easy reach. The last side of the square held a small fridge filled with ice and fruit juice bottles, fruits in baskets next to it, and a work area with knives and mixers. Leo had worked in a few bars in the past years, and in none had such a small space been so thoroughly furnished.

  He could hear Brett's steps behind him, echoing in the silent space, and he put himself to work. He chose a short, wide glass. Stepping to the workspace, he sliced an orange, used it to wet the rim of the glass, and set it upside down in a bowl of sugar. The sugar left a nice edge on the glass that Leo was careful not to damage when he poured in some crushed ice from the fridge. Grabbing a mixer, he poured in grenadine syrup, orange juice and pineapple juice, then closed the cap and shook the mixer with one hand so he could grab the glass and walk over to where Brett was sitting on a high stool. He placed the glass down on a coaster, then opened the mixer with a flourish and poured.

  "Nice color,” Brett commented as he picked up the glass and took a sip. “Nice taste, too."

  Leo turned back to the workspace to clean up, putting everything back in its place. When he glanced back, Brett was licking the sugar along the rim.

  "Does that mean I get the job?"

  "You got the job simply by showing up and knowing your way around the bar.” The glass made a dull sound when Brett set it down on the coaster. “Lisa had been telling me for weeks to find a vamp to put behind the bar. I've asked for a blood ba
r license, and she thinks only a vampire can serve blood correctly."

  There was a hint of skepticism in his words, and Leo had to chuckle as he walked back to him and topped off his drink, emptying the mixer.

  "She's right, and I'm not just saying that to keep the job."

  Once again picking up his glass, Brett gave a small shrug. “Oh, I believe you. It's not like I know much about blood myself."

  He punctuated those last words with a wry smile, and Leo answered it in kind. The businessman facet seemed to have retreated at the mention of Lisa, leaving Brett more open, and more approachable. Leo leaned against the counter, his arms folded in front of him, and considered his new boss—his new lover—for a little while before daring to ask:

  "How did you meet Lisa?"

  He had heard her side of the story the previous night, but he was curious to hear how Brett would describe the encounter.

  "By chance, I suppose.” He took another sip of his drink, and his tongue sneaked out to catch a grain of sugar on his upper lip. “She came to the bar I was managing at the time, and one of the patrons freaked out when he realized she was a vamp. I had to come out and calm things down. Kicked the guy out, offered Lisa a drink."

  He stopped there, and Leo watched as a small smile came to life on Brett's lips. It was a happy smile, the kind that only fond memories inspired. It made Leo want to share that happiness at its deepest level.

  "Only one drink?” he insisted, needing to hear more.

  "That first night, yes, just one. But she came back the next night, and this time she got me one. We started talking.” The smile widened a little. “We talked a lot. And then we did more than talk."

  He finished his drink in one long swallow, tilting his head back as he did and baring his throat. Leo followed that elegant curve with his eyes. He wanted to brush his fingers along it too, and uncover the small, puckered marks at the crook of Brett's neck. If they had been upstairs, he would have, without second thought or hesitation. But down here, in this much more public scene where Brett was his new boss, he had a feeling that discretion might be better, even if they were alone.

  "It was definitely my lucky day when I met her,” Brett started again, a little more softly now. His gaze stayed on the empty glass in front of him on the counter, and he picked up the sugar grains there with his finger. “I'd never have envisioned a club like this without her, and she's the reason it's so successful. She not only thought of everything, she also financed most of it. Sometimes I wonder why she didn't do it herself before she met me."

  Leo laughed quietly at that, drawing Brett's eyes back to him. “Can you imagine her here right now, giving a new bartender directions? Or in an hour, filling out whatever paperwork you need to actually hire me? Or in five hours, smoothing out a problem between two customers?"

  Brett chuckled. “That's what the security personnel is for. But you've got a point. She enjoys being a customer too much to play the owner's part. So now you know how she and I got together. What about you? Did you know her before you were turned?"

  Moving away from the counter, Leo straightened, stretching a little, and looked up at the bottles above him. He wouldn't have minded helping himself, but he still didn't know Brett enough to dare.

  "No, I didn't know her then.” He would have preferred to stop there, but Brett's questioning gaze when Leo looked back at him asked for more. “When I woke up after being turned, she was there. Our Sire had asked her to find me food."

  Brett's smile wavered before disappearing completely. “Food?” he repeated.

  Picking up the empty glass and mixer on the counter, Leo turned to the recessed sink and ran the water. He had said too much, he realized that, but stopping now wouldn't help him or Lisa. “A prey."

  The water warmed up both the glass and Leo's fingers. Bubbles rose in the air, light, lighter than the silence suddenly weighing between the two men.

  "You two killed humans,” Brett said at last.

  With a sharp movement of his wrist, Leo turned off the faucet and set the glass on a tray to dry. The mixer on the other hand he carefully dried off with a clean towel hanging by the faucet and returned it to its proper place. When he couldn't delay anymore turning back toward Brett, he did so with the knowledge that he probably didn't look or sound as repentant as Brett would want him to be. “We didn't have much of a choice. Our Sire prided himself on never having fed from willing prey."

  The light twitch in Brett's cheek was not encouraging, and neither was his carefully blank tone. “That was your Sire. Couldn't you have abstained from killing?"

  Leo tried not to let his amusement pierce through. For Brett this was a serious matter, he understood that, but he knew just as well that trying to explain this to a human was like asking someone who had never hungered for blood to imagine that first burst of warmth and flavor when the fangs retracted.

  "Obviously you don't know what it's like to be a fledgling. Your Sire is everything to you. You want to please him, and make him proud.” Hearing his own words, he realized that he was wrong and corrected himself. “No, you don't want to. You need to, just as much as you need blood."

  "But you and Lisa are here now,” Brett jumped in, only to stop when Leo shook his head.

  "After a few months or a few years, you start getting over it. Lisa did first, probably because she's such a strong-headed woman."

  He had hoped to distract Brett with his weak joke, but it didn't work.

  "So, she only killed humans when she was forced, then?"

  There was hope in Brett's voice. It made Leo wonder what exactly Lisa had told him about her past. It also made him wonder how upset she would be that he had shared things that were hers to divulge. At this point, it was probably better to say everything.

  "She started seducing her prey rather than trapping it, and more and more often they'd leave on their own two feet when she was done. It amused our Sire at first, and then it started annoying him. He tried to order her to kill. When that didn't work, he tried to beat her into submission. Then he thralled her."

  Leo's voice lowered lightly and he had to stop for a moment, the memories flooding back to him. For months, it had been like a game between Sire and Childe, with the lives of a few dozens humans at stake and Leo as an uncomfortable witness. The thrall had worked best of everything else their Sire had tried, but Lisa had been enraged when he had let his control slip enough that she had come out of her trance.

  "She'd always go back to doing what she wanted,” he finished his tale. “She argued with him for hours at a time that it made no sense to risk our lives by killing when we could get all the blood we needed simply by following a few rules. After a while, what she was saying started making sense for me too. That's when he left us. We had no reason to kill after that."

  There were still questions in Brett's eyes; Leo couldn't wait to hear whether they would still be about Lisa, about what she had done or not over the course of more years than Brett had been alive, or if now they would be about his own history with hunting. However, just as Brett was about to say something, a man approached the bar and Brett's attention turned to him. Tall and dressed all in black, he had the name of the club embroidered over his heart, announcing him as security.

  "Afternoon, boss. Just came in to go over these shifts we talked about yesterday, and I found a couple of men at the door.” He glanced at Leo with a hint of suspicion before ignoring him again. “Police."

  At once, Leo could see the tension on Brett's face. He didn't know much about On The Edge yet, but he could easily guess that, in a place where vampires and humans interacted closely, the police wanting to talk to the owner couldn't be a good sign.

  "Please let them in, John. I'll be right there."

  The security guard retreated with a nod. Brett's features were still worried when he looked back at Leo, but he managed to smile when he handed him a single key on a metal ring.

  "Go have a look at the place, see what you think."

  Leo watche
d him go. There was a tightness to the way he walked that hadn't been there before, and Leo wished he had known if he or the police had caused it. He had only entered On The Edge less than a day earlier, but he could see himself enjoying a longer stay with Lisa and Brett. He hoped he hadn't ruined it all already. Clutching the key in his fist, he returned upstairs.

  Chapter 3

  Brett was halfway to the service door when John let the two policemen in. He stopped and watched them come closer, wondering what had brought them here. He could come up with a few possible explanations, and none of them was good, for him personally or for the club. It had all been going too well, he supposed. Something had to come down. He had a feeling that John was thinking the same thing. The chief of security and personnel had been the first employee Brett had hired for On The Edge. John had worked for him before at his first bar, and Brett had known right away he wanted him on board for this new adventure. He was now walking very rigidly a step in front of the cops, his jaw was set in a hard line that meant he was worried. When the three oft hem reached Brett, he stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest.

  The badges the two policemen had on their chests were the only indication that they were cops. They each wore a dark suit, complete with a tie, and Brett unconsciously laid a hand over his own tie, smoothing it down. Lisa had picked it for him.

  "Brett Andrews,” he introduced himself, offering his hand to the men. “I'm the owner and manager of On The Edge."

  The closest policeman took his hand and shook it. He was tall and heavyset. Once, he might have been athletic. The firmness of his handshake hinted at it, but his skin felt damp, and Brett had to fight himself not to wipe his palm on his pants.

  "Detective Carson. This is detective Ritter."

  Ritter inclined his head. “We're investigating a murder."