Free Endless Night by R. M. Gilmore Page A

ahead, I decided to use this time wisely. “So, Secondus, eh?” I left it at that. If he chose to answer, it was up to him.
    “Yes.” No emotion.
    “And this is a secret?” I asked jokingly.
    “Not something I care to tell the world.”
    “Isn’t it like a big deal? To be the second in command?”
    “I believe you have the wrong idea.”
    “So, explain it to me.” Silence. “I promise, off the record.”
    After a great pause, he began. “ Secondus is not a prestigious title in the House of Cailleadh. Some Houses revere their Secondus as they do their Primus. Malcolm prefers I not become a spectacle,” his voice remained monotone. It reminded me of the way he spoke to me the first time we’d met after I’d asked him about where he’d come from. When he’d told me he was Persian in his Cy-bot tone.
    “So instead you prance around in your man panties and pose for the cameras? That sounds legit.” Sarcasm flowed from my lips without filtration. As usual.
    “He feels that is his best use for me,” he spoke with little inflection.
    “Why don’t you leave? I mean, he’s just a person, what’s he gonna do to you?” I caught myself before saying, ‘cut your head off?’. Seemed a bit too soon.
    “That’s not how it works,” he said as he shook his head.
    “He’s holding you captive? Explain it to me really, because I’m not understanding how a man, such as yourself, can be so submissive to a little red-haired weasel like McTavish? Seems a bit ridiculous to me.”
    “You don’t like to be submissive, do you?” His tone told me the words he spoke were not the way he intended them. The question made me blush with sexual tension and angry with the innuendo.
    “No, I don’t. But we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you. You and that asshole Malcolm. Why are you any part of all this in the first place? What the fuck do you get out of it? You obviously have no interest in the scene. So, why?” I stopped in my tracks, folded my arms across my chest, and waited for his answer.
    His warm hands slid up my arms giving me the chills and causing a serious case of goose bumps. “Never mind all that .” A terrifying grin spread across his lips. Terrifying with its implications of danger and other things. “Here we are.” His perfect green eyes left my gaze and glanced up at a towering old warehouse.
    Maybe three stories tall, the old brick building held a huge canvas banner with fancy fangs and text written across it, Endless Night Masque de Sang. Blazing from the roof, two spotlights spun in the sky like two long reaching light sabers in a dueling battle. The group we’d been trailing behind had all but disappeared into the grand double door entrance and dozens more filed in. Crowding the street and sidewalk, hundreds of little Goth kids mingled about puffing on stinking cigarettes and trying to look as ominous as possible. Some reminded me of Philippe, so pathetically hopeless. Others seemed as though this was right where they belonged.
    Masks, wings, Victorian dresses, steampunk inspired ensembles, and everything in between flittered about, excited for the party to come. From what I gathered, the doors were only open to certain guests and the others were forced to wait.
    “Are you ready?” Cyrus asked pulling me by my arm toward the doors.
    “Can we get in?” I said looking around at the ever growing crowd of misfit vampires.
    “We are the elite,” a soft laugh escaped his throat. He pulled from his pocket a rectangular ticket with VIP written in white on the top. Other words were scrawled beautifully along its shiny surface, but I couldn’t make them out.
    A red velvet rope stood between the party and the two of us, but it seemed those two pieces of shiny square paper were our ticket in. I’d never really thought I’d need a ticket. Figured the huge red head would work his Primus mojo and get us in.
    “You’ll need this,” he reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled