Viper by Patricia A. Rasey Read Free Book Online Page A

willing woman who happened by, and the hell with where his true desire lay. Here at the Rave, he bet that wouldn’t take more than thirty seconds.
    Kane shook his head and ignored the young redhead eyeing him up … not even thirty seconds, and headed for the bar. Not only did he need blood, he could use a stiff drink as well. He cut through the crowd with ease, people parting, giving him homage. His MC cut introduced him to the crowd, for those who didn't already know him. The Blood 'n' Rave allowed the Sons’ colors within the establishment, showed them deference. This had been their hangout, their turf, since the nightclub had opened. The owner liked their presence. It kept out the dregs of society, the underbelly—even if there were those who considered the Sons one and the same. To the Rave, the Sons of Sangue were treated like royalty, and there was always an abundance of willing women to slake all their needs, be it sexual or nutritional.
    Cutting a path around the dance floor, Kane headed for the ornate bar, spotting the owner instantly. He stepped to the side of a leather-padded stool, placed one hand on the bar and a booted foot on the foot rail, giving a quick nod to the man he had considered a friend over the past many years.
    "Draven."
    Draven stood just over six foot in bare feet, but tonight he wore a pair of black leather platforms that brought him eye to eye with Kane. He held out his black-fingernail-tipped hand and shook Kane's.
    "Not used to seeing you alone, my dear friend. What's your poison?"
    The Sons rarely traveled by themselves because it was always safer to arrive in numbers, should trouble start. Tonight, Kane didn't need wisecracks from his brothers. He wanted solitude, time to reason with this crazy notion of sliding between the detective’s smooth lean thighs. "Jack, straight up."
    Draven nodded at the bartender who brought them a freshly opened bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel and two vintage lowball glasses, etched in fine gold. He poured them each a half glass. Draven picked them both up, holding one out to Kane.
    Kane took the offering, clinked glasses with the man, then downed a good share of the amber liquid, feeling the burn as it slid down his esophagus.
    "You come to party? I got some sweet shipments that just came in."
    Kane shook his head and wiped his hand down his mouth. Draven knew Kane didn't dabble in drugs, free or otherwise, but it never stopped Draven from offering. Maybe Draven felt he wouldn't be the complete host if he didn't. Kane's answer never changed. "Just here for the women, my friend."
    Draven’s hand indicated the dance floor. "Take your pick."
    He tipped his top hat back a notch as he peered over the blue rimless glasses he wore perched on the end of his nose. Kane wasn't sure if Draven wore them to read or because he thought it made him look more like Gary Oldman from Bram Stocker's Dracula . He wore red contacts to enhance the look and a soul patch beneath his lower lip. The only thing missing was the mustache.
    Kane took another sip from his glass, then turned his back to the bar and leaned against it, his heel now resting on the foot rail. His gaze swept the room, looking for a good candidate, when a lean, dark-haired woman approached the bar. The first thing that caught Kane's attention was the red vial hanging from her neck, marking her as a donor. He had seen her many times before, but usually on the arm of one of his brothers. She wasn't his normal type, but tonight beggars certainly couldn't be choosers.
    "Can I buy you a drink?" Kane asked.
    Startled, her blue gaze stopped on his. "I'm sorry?"
    Kane pointed at her glass and grinned. "What are you drinking, sweetness?"
    "Tom Collins."
    Kane nodded at the bartender, who quickly brought her a fresh glass. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
    "You didn't," the brunette said, nervously running a hand down her black pleather pants. On her top half she wore a white fur-covered bikini bra, an A-cup at