Shades of Wicked (Page 20)

Shayla, the vampire who’d appointed herself the moderator of this contest, gave Andrew a dispassionate look. “Only one minute left for you to finish that shot or you forfeit.”

The crisp pronouncement splashed my nerves like a bucket of icy water. I shook Ian off, glad when his hands left me and he backed away. Now, I could think again. Andrew gave the moderator a hostile glance. Or tried to. I’d seen sleepy puppies appear more threatening. “’S coming,” he muttered, then sloshed the glass’s contents into his mouth.

The crowd around the table started to clap. That stopped when Andrew’s eyes rolled back and he fell facefirst into his castle of overturned shot glasses. His friends immediately pulled him up and tried to shake him awake, but it was no use. Andrew was, as they say, down for the count.

“Time,” Shayla announced moments later, nodding to the waiting attendants. “Take him away.”

Lyndsay, my sole remaining opponent, gave the vouchers swirling several inches above the table a hopeful look. Then she gave the shot glass in front of her a grimly determined one. She missed grabbing it on her first try but picked it up on her second. Then she downed the tainted blood in one gulp.

Cheers sounded, but I was more aghast than impressed. Gods, the amount of Red Dragon Lyndsay would’ve needed to drink over the years to build up her tolerance to this! I hoped she had no idea where it came from. I hoped none of them did. If they knew and still swilled it regularly . . . well, there was a reason the tainted blood was illegal.

“Your turn,” Lyndsay said, slamming her shot glass down.

I picked mine up, careful not to make my movements too precise. This liquor was affecting me, but not nearly as much as it would have if I were a normal vampire. I even took a deep breath before swallowing, as if trying to summon up the fortitude. Then I poured the contents into my mouth, held it there for a moment as if fighting not to spit it out, and finally swallowed.

More applause broke out. Lyndsay grabbed her head as if the noise was agony. Then she spewed a stream of red vomit right into the swirling vouchers she’d tried so hard to win. She kept heaving, her body apparently trying to expel most of the Red Dragon she’d consumed. At once, attendants snatched the vouchers out of the air and began shaking the splatter off of them.

“Winner,” Shayla announced, pointing at me. The rest of the room roared their disappointment or their victory, depending on how they’d placed their bets. “And the name of our victor is . . . ?”

“Ian’s Little Poppet,” I declared, shooting him an arch look. As if winning this contest hadn’t been enough to get tongues wagging, now there was no chance Dagon wouldn’t figure out that Ian had been here tonight.

Ian’s lips curled as he came back over to my chair. “Think it’s time to take Ian’s Little Poppet to bed so she can truly celebrate her victory,” he said, to a round of ribald applause this time. He picked me up, ignoring my protest that I could walk, and nodded at the moderator. “If you’ll cash us out?”

Shayla flicked her fingers. At once, the vouchers above the table compacted themselves into a squarish shape and then rushed over to her side. Then she indicated the velvet curtain that cordoned off the room beyond this one. “Follow me.”

Ian carried me into the room, the vouchers between us and Shayla. Once we were inside, it was so dark I couldn’t have seen anything if not for my vampire vision. Still, the effects of all my imbibing must have been catching up with me. I could barely make out the low couches and wide pillows that made up most of the furniture. Shayla led us past that to a door that was made of thick wood instead of more velvet hangings. It led to a small, enclosed area with three more doors. Shayla chose the one on the right and the brightness of the light that spilled out made me close my eyes and wince.

I might not be puking or passed-out drunk like my former competitors, but I was nowhere near sober. That light hurt. So did my head. Also, either this room was rotating or my brain was doing its own spins. Maybe it hadn’t been a bad idea for Ian to carry me, even though I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that. Still, his arms felt strong and secure and his body was warm and solid and he smelled really, really good . . .

“Stop that,” Ian said, lightly tugging my hair. Only then did I realize I’d ripped his collar open to nuzzle his neck.

Instead of being embarrassed, I found myself giggling. “Sorry. Want to eat you,” I said with complete sincerity.

“Of course you do. Everybody does,” he replied while his grip on my hair held me away from his throat. “But not here. Shayla, if we could hurry this along?”

“Certainly,” she said. A light seemed to go off in my aching head. That’s right, I had something very important to do.

“Want more Red Dragon,” I told her, miming drinking another shot in case she didn’t understand. “Now.”

Ian sighed. “Ignore her. She’s had more than enough.”

“Haven’t,” I said firmly, elbowing him. Why was he trying to stop me? Didn’t he know what I was doing? Oh, right, he didn’t because I hadn’t told him. Whatever.

“Red Dragon,” I repeated. “To go,” I added, giving Ian another hard elbow when he opened his mouth to argue. “Uncut.”

Shayla had been regarding me with boredom until that last word. “Uncut?” she drew out, her eyes narrowing.

I nodded, ignoring how Ian stiffened. “Easier to take.” Then I gestured at the vouchers floating between us and her. “All of that for a whole uncut bottle.”

“I don’t think—” Ian began.

“Tonight,” I stressed, marshalling my reeling senses as I watched her eyes flick from me to the compacted bundle of vouchers. “Please,” I added to Ian, hoping he understood the subtext. Once more, I needed him to trust me, even if that went against everything he was and everything appearances showed.

He shifted until he was only holding me with one arm. Then he let go of my hair to give Shayla a resigned look. “Give it to her. There’ll be no living with her otherwise.”

Shayla gave the vouchers another glance. I strained my senses to their inebriated limit. A haze flickered around her, invisible to everyone else. When it turned green, I had my answer. Then she smiled coolly and that haze vanished.

“Very well, but tonight is impossible. I would need time to put together such a specialized order.”

“Bollocks,” I said cheerily, using one of Ian’s terms for calling bullshit. “You’ve got it here. Drinks were fresher and tasted stronger later in the game.”

They must have run out of their original stock of Red Dragon since they hadn’t been prepared for a mass drinking event. To keep supplying the contest, they’d had to make more on the spot, but there must not have been enough human blood on hand to dilute the mixture the same way.

“Do you consider yourself a connoisseur?” Shayla asked with false pleasantness.

I hiccupped and it wasn’t even fake. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I grow bored,” Ian said tersely. I was about to protest until I saw that he was looking at Shayla, not me. “Aside from switching out the potency—which is damn near cheating—she’s consumed enough Red Dragon to know the difference between fresh brew and old stock. Give her what she wants, or we’ll take our winnings elsewhere and find someone who can.”