Bite Of The Past (The Black Fan Book 1)

  Bite Of The Past

  The Black Fan #1

  Laura Greenwood

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Also by Laura Greenwood

  About the Author

  © 2020 Laura Greenwood

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  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission of the published, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address; lauragreenwood@authorlauragreenwood.co.uk.

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  Visit Laura Greenwood’s website at:

  www.authorlauragreenwood.co.uk

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  Cover Design by Ammonia Book Covers

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  Bite Of The Past is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Blurb

  When Catherine encounters a man from her past, her life is turned upside down.

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  Outcast from vampire society hundreds of years ago, Catherine hasn't let anyone stand in her way of succeeding. As one of the most successful madams in the City Of Blood, she's made a name for herself.

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  But when she finds her first love in her waiting room, she is forced to confront the reasons she was thrown out of vampire society in the first place.

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  Is Benedict worth risking her heart for a second time?

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  -

  Bite Of The Past is a second chance vampire paranormal romance. It is part of the Black Fan series, and Catherine and Benedict’s full story.

  Chapter One

  The parties are nothing like the ones from when I was a young girl newly presented to the vampire court. Probably because none of this would be approved by them. Life five hundred years on is too different for most of the men in charge to accept now. They'd never have even dreamed of a city run by vampires, even in their wildest dreams.

  "Lady Catherine, it's a pleasure to see you here," a voice breaks through my thoughts.

  I focus my attention on the speaker and search my memory for his name. I want to say Mills, or Miller. Something like that. He's the Mayor's second in command, though that doesn't mean anything these days. She changes them every other week or so. I have to wonder how this man got his position. And if he'll be regretting it soon.

  "Would you do me the honour of a private session once we are done with the festivities?" He trails his gaze up and down my body. I can feel it through the skirts of my dress and the thick embroidery of my bodice.

  I flick open my fan and use it to smother my amused smile. This happens every time, without fail.

  "I'm sorry, I no longer entertain clients," I respond once I've regained my composure.

  His mouth falls open, as if he doesn't understand the words coming from my mouth. "But, your fan...doesn't that mean..." He gulps nervously, no doubt worrying he's insulted a lady from one of the noble houses. How he'd laugh if he knew the truth about me. I'm as disgraced as they come, thrown out for a love affair gone wrong. I'm sure Father thinks I'm dead. If he even thinks of me at all.

  I snap my fan shut, loving the sound it makes. "I no longer entertain, but my girls do. Hasn't our Lady-Mayor explained it all to you?" I ask sweetly.

  He shakes his head, nervous to the extreme. I sigh. None of it is to do with me, I know that. But I wish the Mayor would start explaining this to people before they make a fool of themselves. Particularly people she plucks from the many to make into her pawns.

  "Why don't we take a seat and I'll explain how it works," I promise.

  "Thank you, Lady Catherine, that would be appreciated."

  By him, perhaps. It'll stop him from making a fool of the wrong person and ending up short a head.

  I direct him to one of the tables hidden in an alcove. It's the safest place for us to talk. I take a seat, then gesture for one of the serving girls to bring us wine. There's no need to go through this without it.

  "Where did you come from before this?" I ask to start the conversation.

  "The fourth district," he answers instantly, his chest puffing out a bit.

  I raise an eyebrow. It's an impressive jump to go from there to the Mayor's right hand. Maybe the people above him in the chain didn't want the job, for the obvious and deadly reason of the Mayor herself.

  "So you haven't attended many of these parties before?" I ask, loathing the idea of calling them balls. They weren't anything of the sort. Balls should have dancing, and clandestine flirting, potentially even more. These parties were all about indulging the most base of desires where everyone can see them. I hate it. But can never say anything. No matter how I feel, this is how I make a living and stop myself from starving.

  "No, this is the first one," he admits.

  That makes sense. He's acting as if he's discovering it all for the first time.

  Before I can ask my next question, the serving girl returns with a pitcher of wine.

  "Is there anything else I can get for you, Lady Catherine?" she asks.

  "No, thank you, Bella."

  She gives me a small smile, then disappears into the throng.

  "You know her name?" the man asks.

  Mills. His name is definitely Mills. I won't bother finding out his forename, he won't matter soon.

  "Of course. The whores and serving girls are the only constants at parties like these." I shrug, not adding that the faces of the Mayor's favourites change so frequently it's pointless remembering them all. "Make friends with the staff, and they'll see to your every reasonable need."

  "You called yourself a whore?" He studies me, a slight frown on his forehead.

  I shrug. "It's how I started, and I'm not ashamed of it. Though I suppose the correct term for women like me is a Madam."

  "And that's why you don't take clients?" Mills asks.

  "I don't see clients because I don't want to. Plenty of the Madams still do. Sylvia over there loves to entertain, she does it multiple times a week." I point out a woman with a yellow fan.

  "So the fans..."

  "Are how you identify the courtesans. We used to have names for the brothels, but when we realised people were identifying us by our fans, we stopped bothering. Now we're known by the colours." It's a simple system, and one that seems to work. Technically, there's no rule to say a normal vampire woman can't bring a fan to one of these events, but in the time since the City Of Blood had been founded, I've never seen one do it.

  "Oh."

  "Tell me, Mr Mills, do you still want to procure the services of one of the courtesans tonight?" I ask as I pour the two of us wine.

  "I...erm..." He isn't correcting me on his name, which means I probably got it right. Though he doesn't seem able to get many words out at all.

  Taking matters into my own hands, I gesture to
Madeline, and she makes her way over, artfully dodging any conversation.

  "This is one of my best girls," I say to Mills. "Madeline, this is Mr Mills. If he calls on you, it's on the house," I instruct.

  She dips into a terrible curtsy. There's no teaching some of the younger vampires these things, no matter how much I try. I suppose it's a dying art.

  "Do you need my assistance now, Mr Mills?" she asks sweetly.

  He shakes his head.

  "Very well, I'll be around if you need me." She doesn't wait, and disappears off into the crowds. Like many of my girls, she isn't here to perform favours now, but to get clients for later.

  "Do you have a family?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. It's just as well. Fewer people will end up dead because of him this way.

  "Me neither. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends," I assure him.

  "Do you have any friends?" he gets out.

  A light laugh leaves me. "I'm friends with anyone, for a price."

  He grimaces, clearly uncomfortable with what I do.

  I sigh. "None of my girls are being held unwillingly and made to work for me," I explain to him. I'm not sure why I bother. My position in the City isn't up for debate. I don't have to defend what I do to people like him. "And they keep eighty percent of their wages to do as they see fit."

  "Do they ever leave?" he asks, looking a little reassured. Good.

  "The brothel? All the time. Some get tired of the life and move on. Others meet someone and fall in love. A few have disappeared without a trace." I don't add more to the last one. Even if Mills is the Mayor's new second in command, he'll have heard the rumours about what she's like. More than that, he probably knows more about it than I do. People disappear all the time in the City, and none of us ever do or say anything about it.

  "Do you ever think about getting out of the game yourself?" Mills asks.

  I shake my head. "Any reason for me to stop ended long ago." I push thoughts of my past away. I've spent too much of my life heartbroken over what happened with the only man I ever loved.

  "Perhaps it'll all change," he says.

  I flash him a coy smile. "I doubt it. And even if it does, I still have a business to run and other people to care for. My wants come second to those I'm responsible for." And I try to make a habit of always making sure my girls are looked after first and foremost. By the time they arrive at my door, most of them have been used by someone at the very least.

  His face becomes drawn as I watch him for his response. "I'm sorry, Lady Catherine, I must be going." He scrambles to his feet and rushes away.

  I twist in my seat to see the Mayor gesturing for him, a thunderous look on her face, even from here. I rise to my feet quickly. It's time for me to get my girls out of here if she's about to go on one of her rampages. And from her expression, it's going to be one that ends up with people dead. Definitely not the kind I want to be around for.

  Chapter Two

  I drop down into the comfortable chair I keep in the entrance to the Black Fan Brothel just for moments like these. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday that I loved parties and balls and everything that comes with them. But now, it's different. They're exhausting. Not to mention dangerous.

  I kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes, glad to be free of them. I don't dance much any more, it's hard to find the joy in it when so much has been taken from me. But that doesn't mean the shoes hurt any less. Potentially even more than they did before because I don't get to have the fun that goes with them.

  The night is already fading, and I can see the hints of dawn coming through the small window.

  I groan, knowing I have no choice but to get up and pull the blind over it, or someone will get badly burnt. And, as much as I want to tell people it doesn't matter, looks are everything in this profession, no matter if you're male or female. Human or vampire.

  My whole body seems to creak as I make my way up. But that isn't possible. So long as we get regular blood, vampires don't age like humans do. To be honest, I'm not sure what happens if we don't get regular blood. Probably just die. It's not something I've ever had to worry about, even when I found myself kicked out of my family's home and abandoned on the street.

  Of course, they'd done that without expecting me to last until morning. In some ways, I'm still surprised I did. But by chance, I stumbled around until I found the one person who could help me.

  A Madam.

  Though not a very good one. Agatha has been gone for a long time now. Dead even before the strict rules that came in when the City Of Blood was founded. It's probably for the best. I doubt she'd have been able to survive under these circumstances.

  I draw the blind across and secure it, darkening the room completely. At least we're all now safe from the sun's rays. From the missing keys behind the front desk, it's going to be a busy day for my girls. It normally is when there's a big party like the one tonight. Lots of newly rich vampires who have only ever heard the rumours of the vampire courtesans who service the City's elite.

  A small snort escapes me even as I think about it.

  The tinkle of the front bell pulls me from my thoughts before I can return to my chair. I spin around, my dress fanning out around me. Who is coming in so late? None of the girls are supposed to go to a client's home unless it's pre-arranged. I lost some good friends that way.

  I walk out into the main reception area. With so little time left before dawn, my staff have already retired to their rooms. The door should have been locked, but I must have forgotten when I came in.

  "Can I help you?" I ask the man standing in the doorway.

  He turns, and recognition floods through me.

  "Mr Mills. I didn't expect to see you so soon." I keep the surprise out of my voice, but it's definitely inside me. He'd come across as a little uncomfortable earlier, and I don't think that's something he can easily change.

  "My apologies, Lady Catherine. I can leave if you're closed..."

  "Of course you can't," I counter. "The sun is nearly up, and unless you live across the road, you'll burn up."

  He smiles wanly. I don't think he's thought through his reasons to come here.

  "I'm afraid I may have acted hastily in coming here. I..." he trails off, glancing around the room. He's probably looking for someone listening in.

  "No one will overhear you," I promise. "We're one of the foremost establishments in the City. We take great care in not letting word of what goes on between these walls outside them." At least, that's true to the best of my abilities. I'm sure any one of my staff members could be reporting to someone on the outside of the brothel, but I doubt it. I make sure to pay them well, and to only take in those who seem like they'd be willing to keep their mouths shut in the first place.

  In other words, people like the girl I'd been. With more choice. I don't expect anyone housed in my establishment to do anything against their will. Which is more than I can say for Agatha.

  "Are you sure?" Mills whispers.

  "As much as I can be," I admit. I slip past him and fix the lock on the door. It won't do any of us any good if someone else comes in now. "Why don't we go through to the reception room and we can talk while we wait for Madison," I suggest.

  "Oh, I...I didn't mean to wake her."

  I shake my head. "You won't have. Most of the girls stay awake until after the sun has risen. It's easier to adjust to the rhythm we keep rather than force ourselves to stay up later on some nights."

  "Oh." He fidgets uncomfortably as I gesture him through to the other room.

  Before I follow him, I pull up the booking tablet, and type out a note to Maddy. While she may be awake, I know there are things she'll want to do to prepare for a client. The technology doesn't exactly fit with the boudoir theme we have going on in the brothel, but we keep it to a minimum and hide it well. Sometimes, convenience is the most important thing.

  With that all settled, I follow Mills into the other room. I'm glad to find he's made himself comfort
able at one of the small tables. The place is made to look like it could be busy, but it never is. Most of our clients don't want other important people knowing they come here.

  "Would you like something to drink while you're waiting?" I ask. "We have a selection of the best blood the City has to offer." And we pay through the nose for it, mostly in bribes. The worst thing is, I can't even taste the difference between the fancy stuff, and the blood we drink when there aren't any clients around.

  He shakes his head. "I don't think I could keep any down."

  "Did you drink at the party?" I ask, taking a seat opposite him.

  "I couldn't." He frowns, then looks up at me, confusion in his eyes. "Is that bad?"

  "I imagine it's fairly normal," I admit. I've never talked to anyone about their first experience at one of the Mayor's parties before, I've only been able to read the way they feel from their body language and expressions.

  "It wasn't anything like I expected. I thought it would be like you see in the movies, you know..."

  I nod. "Flowing champagne, laughing people, and handshakes on clandestine deals?" I suggest. While I've never believed that's what the parties should be, I can see why newcomers would think it. And more, why they'd want it to be true.

  "Yes. And instead it's..."

  He doesn't finish his sentence. He's wise not to. I may agree with him that the parties are nothing more than a blood fuelled orgy of violence, but it's never wise to say that to anyone. Especially not to someone you've only just met.