"James, your hands."
"Hm? What's wrong with my hands?"
…Is this idiot being serious right now? Well, to be honest, I've got no idea. It's kind of hard to tell with that silly, sheepish smile plastered on his face. But whatever the answer is, I slap away the dirty paws on my hips for the nth time, and for the nth time, the vampire chortles.
Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but I'm not going to play along.
Last time I checked, it's more than possible to dance with somebody without having to squeeze your body against theirs. Admittedly, there's not much space on the dance floor to maintain even a foot distance between one another, but still…!
Gosh, this is suffocating. You can't frigging breathe without—
"Shy?"
"No, annoyed."
Again, James lets out a loud chortle. Someone's having fun at my expense, clearly.
A sigh escapes me, and I chase away his wandering hands with a flick of my wrist again. What's so fun about putting our hands on a dude's hips, anyway? Talk about a weird habit.
James is already invading my personal space enough as it is, so couldn't he at least keep his hands to himself? Or is that too much to ask?
Yeah, probably too much to ask.
"How about not flirting with a married man?" A low chuckle resounds behind me amid the loud music. "Especially when his husband is standing right behind him, hm?"
Fair point, fair point.
But I fear it goes in one ear and out the other, as James responds with that irksome smile of his. How annoying.
Sadly, Eve has already parted ways with us, scurrying a few rows away, and Mister here has no one else left to dance with but me—James seems to be having a little too much fun with the make-believe. With that said, I'm pretty sure no one's suspecting he's stretching his senses far and wide, on the lookout for any abnormalities that might arise.
Even I doubt it at times, despite knowing the true purpose of our little escapade in the middle of the dance floor.
On the bright side, I've managed to keep him in front of me, and not behind me. I don't trust him enough to let him watch over my back, and I'd rather have him in my sight if we have to stay close to each other, just in case.
I've gotta say, though, being of the same height does make things a little awkward. Still, I prefer that to another giant looming over me. Jordan is tall enough for the three of us.
Tsk, those goddamn hands.
Another slap, another smile. But this time, James seems about to spout out some nonsense when something catches his eye, making him forget about me for an instant.
Thank God, finally some respite.
I still follow his gaze, however, and I turn my head to the left, where he's staring.
It looks like someone's dropped their beer, splashing everyone around. Some angry shouts pierce the music, and undistinct chatter disturbs the crowd.
Although I won't say it aloud, I'm welcoming the distraction, and James excuses himself to check out the commotion—apparently, he's the owner of this nightclub, and he does have some responsibilities to uphold, like overseeing the crowd and making sure hell doesn't break loose. Drunkards' fits of temper are no joke.
The moment he's out of sight, I resume scanning the area, my eyes darting around.
For now, I haven't seen any kobolds.
It doesn't mean I haven't caught sight of anything noteworthy, though. I've noticed quite a few otherworldly beings, but they're all small fries. None of them would dare act up in a territory owned by the vampire clan, lest they have a death wish. The kobolds are the strange ones for going on a murder spree in this area, to begin with.
"Have you—" Jordan gets interrupted mid-sentence as he crashes onto my back, his hands firmly holding my shoulders so I don't fall head-first onto the dance floor. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it, it's a little crowded."
"It is, yes."
Jordan releases my shoulders and seems to try to take a step back, to no avail. He's stuck against my back, while I can't move forward. A stranger has taken up James's place, and she's swaying her hips around a little too much. I'm pretty sure I'll get hit in the temple by an elbow if I try to get closer; the girl's too far gone to pay attention to her surroundings.
"Should we try moving to the side a bit?"
Yes, please; I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic here.
If only there were no more than one entrance and one exit, I could have posted myself there. But of course, this goddamn place doesn't have a simple layout and has multiple doors and rooms. As if this weren't enough, there are also many black alleys either directly behind the building or a few streets away, and these don't have security cameras.
No wonder this nightclub is one of the best hunting grounds around.
Everything to help me, seriously.
For now, let's move elsewhere.
Because people are in their little bubbles, they don't notice I want to pass through; I've got to brute-force my way across the club.
I can only take a breather once we get close to the counter.
"So—"
The words get stuck in my throat as I catch sight of something troubling.
…Did these guys really just spike that girl's drink? She has already turned silly from the alcohol, and they dare to add drugs to the lot?! What the fuck—are they out of their minds?!
These little…
I don't know if it's because he can feel my glare on him, but one of them turns his face around, letting me see those tiny yet familiar fangs.
Wait. What? Fangs?
Since when have vampires started to drug people?!
From what I recall, that's against the laws of the vampire clan. These guys don't need to spike people's drinks to enjoy a good, old snack. The elders would rather not have their people using such underhanded methods and causing trouble, too. Otherwise, they can welcome the headache with the law enforcement and the hunters.
If anything, vampires know how to hunt discreetly. Feeding isn't a complicated matter, especially not in a nightclub like this one, where personal space is a foreign concept, and snuggling against your dance partners is the norm.
I mean, I've seen quite a few youngsters snack while we were on the dance floor, and that's only because I know what to look for.
A "kiss" on the neck is all that is needed. Their saliva acts like a numbing agent, and all that's left afterward is a little mark similar to a hickey.
So, if these scumbags are spiking that girl's drink…
Then, they're not just planning on snacking.
"Jordan, let's—"
Before I can say anything more, James appears in the corner of my eye. He's on the move toward the counter, and the next instant, he snatches the drink from the woman's hands, just as she's about to bring the glass to her mouth. He lifts it too high for her to catch it, even as she bounces on her feet; she only manages to crash onto the vampire.
Meanwhile, the guys take the opportunity to flee. That's a little useless. James has seen their faces, and I doubt he's going to let it slide.
That silly smile of his is gone, after all.
He nods toward the bouncer, who's quick to give chase. Yup, they're done for.
When the girl's friends come out of the bathroom, James hands her over, and from what I can hear amid the noisy music, he seems to be warning them not to accept drinks from strangers. Then, he walks toward us.
"Sorry you had to see that," James smiles apologetically to us. "The youngsters have been causing a little bit of trouble lately."
Oh, so he's not going to hide that these scumbags are vampires. Well, I've got to be honest: he's getting some brownie points for not pushing the blame onto humans, like many of his peers often do.
"A little bit of trouble?"
James sighs.
"Alright, a lot of trouble. It seems like my inability to catch these kobolds is making them believe that they can do whatever the hell they want and get away with it."
"It doesn't take much for your authority to get shaken, huh?"
"Thank you for twisting the knife."
Alright. Gotta admit, the guy's grimace makes me feel better.
Still, I'm not surprised. The young vampires' dissatisfaction with how the elders rule their clan is well-known among the hunters.
These loud brats have been complaining about how "unfair" it is nowadays, and how vampires could feed off "blood bags" until they turned dry without problem before. They want more than small snacks here and there; they want things to return to how they were in the old golden age, where they could do whatever they wanted.
Needless to say, these royal dumbasses are too young to have experienced the vampire hunts a few hundred years ago, or I believe they wouldn't be spouting so much nonsense. I wonder if they've been treating the history books of their clan as some sort of conspiracy to keep them from enjoying their lives to the fullest or something.
"Anyway. Shall we go back to the dance floor?"
What? No! We've just managed to get away from it; give me some time to rest, I'm begging you!