Free Beneath a Blood Moon by R. J. Blain

evening.”
    “You’re paying a lot for just that,” I replied, unable to keep my doubt out of my voice.
    “Do you not feel you are worth every penny of it, Miss Sara?” Desmond asked.
    In a good week, I brought in a couple of hundred of dollars plus tips, which usually didn’t give me more than a hundred extra to work with. I paid my rent and could afford one or two classes a semester. Until my hungry wolf had come around, I’d been able to live paycheck to paycheck.
    Twenty thousand was more than I made in a year.
    “Charles, be nice,” Wendy chided. “Forgive him, Miss Sara. He sometimes loses sight of the fact that many women in your position are not paid nearly what they are worth—or treated half as well as they deserve. I took the liberty of inquiring with some of your colleagues. We’re well aware you do not typically accompany your clients home.”
    “I don’t, not usually,” I admitted, clasping my hands together on my lap, wondering why two seemingly nice people would want to hire me . “I’m a stripper, not a prostitute.”
    It wasn’t entirely the truth, but I wasn’t a prostitute often. While my wolf was quiet for the moment, I had the feeling I’d prostitute a lot more often with her around. Maybe I was a prude, especially for someone who stripped for money, but I didn’t want to be handed around like the other girls.
    Before I’d become a stripper, I had been a one-guy girl. Desperation had forced me to change. Maybe there were men out there who didn’t mind how many notches I had on my belt, but I cared.
    I sure as hell didn’t feel like I was worth every penny of seventy thousand dollars.
    “We haven’t decided where to go for dinner tonight, Miss Sara,” Desmond stated, drawing my attention back to him. “What do you recommend?”
    “You’re asking the wrong slut that question,” I muttered under my breath. I sighed, considered my words carefully, and said, “I don’t eat out very often, sir. I tend to stick to the buffets when I do.”
    My wolf’s interest piqued at the mention of a buffet.
    “We enjoy buffets,” he replied. “Which one do you recommend?”
    “What time is it? The good ones close early.”
    “Half past eight.”
    Most of the good buffets would still be open, and after a moment of thought, I said, “Bacchanal at Caesar’s Palace. It recently reopened. If you’re looking for a buffet experience, that’s a good place to go.”
    It was out of my price range as one of the Strip’s most expensive buffets, but if they were willing to spend so much hiring someone like me, I doubted the higher price would bother them. At least for one night, I could make sure my wolf got the food she needed, and with luck, she wouldn’t object too much to the vegetables and salads I preferred.
    Hopefully, her dietary choices wouldn’t leave me spending the rest of the night throwing up.
    “We haven’t been there yet, Charles,” Wendy said, her tone lightening with excitement.
    “Then we shall go,” he replied. “Sanders really is determined, isn’t he? I better call him or the buffet will close before he figures out he’s out of luck up there. I keep telling him he should stick with me, but no. So stubborn.” I heard the rustle of clothes and a finger tapping away at a cellphone screen. While faint, I could hear the phone ringing. “Sanders, come down to the garage. We’ll miss dinner if you stay up there all night. No, I don’t want to wait for five more minutes. I have a present for you. No excuses. Get down here.”
    “He’s going to be so mad at you,” Wendy warned.
    “Better than him moping around for the next week when we came here so he could unwind and enjoy himself away from home. Sorry, Miss Sara. Sanders took his wife’s death really hard, and you’re the first lady he’s even looked at twice, so I thought I’d arrange an opportunity for him to meet you.”
    A small, sick and demented part of me wanted to return to New York and pray my