Deathless Discipline

life behind him.
“I know, I will absolutely take the check on this.”
Raised voices and an increased throng of bodies alerted him to a skirmish in the middle of the club. Dom called over to the bouncer at the end of the bar. “Jim.”
“I'm on it,” his bouncer said.
“Get them out. But don't make a scene.”
“I know, I know, Jedi mind trick, right?” Jim grinned at him, tapping his temple.
“That's right.”
He didn't like to have any kind of drama go down in his club. He'd taught the bouncers to treat offenders suavely, giving them the greatest possible chance to leave with dignity, even if they did have their arms held by two huge ex-military guys while they walked out. He watched as Jim and James—yes, his two regular bouncers had the same name—cut through the crowd, separated the two belligerents and led them out, one through the front door and one out the back. He could only hope they'd wait to be sure a fight didn't pick back up in the parking lot. The last thing he needed was the kind of trouble a drive by cop car would spot.
* * *
The stilettos were driving her nuts. What had she been she thinking? Standing in the women’s bathroom, putting lipstick on before her first set, Kate was having a hard time balancing. Stressed out with writing the proposal for her master's thesis, she'd ingested three Starbuck's Venti Lattes earlier in the day and now she was having a near panic attack from all the caffeine.
She rubbed lipstick off her canine tooth. Her fang. She shivered, remembering seeing Fox's bloody fangs last week. She had ended up calling him several times that week, firing questions at him like, “How old are you?” (179 years old) and “How old were you when you were turned?” (20) and “Why are the three of you rogue vampires?”
That was the most interesting answer. “Dom had a spiritual crisis in the 1970's and swore off killing,” Fox had said. “Then he packed up and moved to Tucson.”
“And you and Stella followed?” she'd asked.
“Yeah. I like the way I feel when I'm with Dom. I feel more like my mortal self. Less soul-less,” Fox had explained.
She wanted to grill him more about Dom, but didn't want to make her interest that obvious. Now that she knew, she could see how all the clues had been there: Stella, Dom and Fox's relationship was so odd for one thing, with all three living together in one compound like a family. Tighter than family, really. They had pale faces and felt cooler to the touch. And Fox could never rehearse before dark.
The main clue was their pointy canine teeth, and now that she thought about it, she remembered that sometimes those teeth had seemed longer than at other times. Last night she'd been paying attention and had seen Fox's grow before her eyes when he saw a guy he was digging on. And all three were drop dead gorgeous, especially Dom. He was all lean muscle and not too tall, which made sense since he was born in a different century. He had wavy brown hair that fell just to his shoulders, and black-lashed hazel eyes—the kind that popped against his darker features. Looking into his beautiful face was an almost unsettling experience, which was why she was most often tongue-tied around him.
She'd told Fox the idea of being bitten creeped her out, but the truth was, there was something extremely intoxicating about the idea of vampires. She'd spent the entire week imagining Dom biting her neck. He was the fodder for most of her fantasies, although she would never act on them. God, she couldn't even look him in the eye when she talked to him.
Someone grabbed both of her breasts from behind and she shrieked and whirled around. Stella was grinning a toothy grin at her. Kate had never been with a woman, but if she could pick one, it would be Stella—especially now that she knew Stella was a vampire. She could just picture her dressed up as a dominatrix, spanking her with a riding crop. She shook her head and pushed that crazy thought out of her head. Stella stepped past her into a stall, blowing her a kiss.
Kate went to the bar and ordered a shot of Herradura, to take the edge off the caffeine buzz she had going. She threw it back and bit into the lime as a shudder ran through her, then took her place on stage, kicking off the damned stilettos. The caffeine/alcohol mix made her want to jump around, so she veered from their agreed upon set and called for some of the punkier songs they knew. The great thing about the Morphs was that the guys could usually pull any cover song she named out of their asses.
The first set went well, and the effects of the shot seemed to have taken the edge off. The bar was way too crowded now for her to squeeze in there to get a drink, but Nanette, one of the cocktail waitresses, came right to the stage as they finished to take their orders. “Ginger ale and lime?” she smiled.
“Yes. And another shot of Herradura.”
“You got it. You were great, by the way. As usual!”
Kate smiled her thanks and hunted for the stilettos. There was no way she was walking through the bar in her bare feet. Fox had waited for her at the edge of the stage and he took her hand to help her through the throng. He was good like that. Sometimes she got overwhelmed by people trying to get her attention when she came off the set, and lord knows drunk people weren't good about picking up on her subtle cues to back off. She wasn't good at being rude. Or even firm, really. On-stage, Kate was a rock-star—a sassy, confident bad-ass—but once she was done with the set, she was only good at smiling and saying the things