Kev settled back into Fang's arms, his cheek pressed against the soft, warm fur of the wolf's chest. He could feel the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Fang's breathing, a grounding, powerful presence. He inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of sandalwood and a musky, uniquely Fang scent filling his senses, a smell that was becoming synonymous with safety and comfort.
Kev didn't want the moment to end. He could be in a thunderstorm during an earthquake, but as long as he was holding Fang, he would never want it to end.
"How can I apologize to you?" Fang asked quietly. "What can I get for you?"
Kev nuzzled into Fang one last time before reluctantly pulling away. "You've already apologized, and I accept." He stood and reached his hand back down towards Fang. "You should apologize to Talon."
Fang cocked his head to the side as he grabbed his human's hand and pretended to be helped up. "Why would I do that?"
"You threw him through a door," Kev said flatly.
Fang laughed. "He signed the waiver, didn't he?"
Kev sighed and rolled his eyes. If Talon had seemed even slightly upset about it, he would have pushed Fang a bit harder to make amends. Following Fang towards the door, he said, "I should really read this waiver. It sounds like there was some really important information I missed when I started here."
Fang pushed the door open and said, "That legal nonsense covers everything. I've never read it."
Kev nodded at Talon as they passed him in the hallway. The eagle locked the door behind them and silently fell into step. Kev had found it uncomfortable a week ago when the eagle was hired to watch him, but after his little walk-around with Warlock and Bruno earlier, he had a new appreciation for having friendly eyes on his back.
"When is dinner?" Kev asked. "Do we have time for a drink?"
"Yes," Fang said. "We are going to be starting dinner at seven."
Kev checked his watch. It was just after six. Plenty of time.
They walked down the grand staircase, the club already beginning to hum with the energy of the arriving patrons. The soft glow of the oil lamps was now augmented by dozens of flickering candles, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, rich tobacco, and the faint, mouth-watering aroma of food beginning to waft from the kitchen. Kev greeted Skippy as they passed him at the velvet rope. He was going to ask where Twitch was, but the question fizzled out of his brain when he noticed someone was already sitting in his usual spot… someone big, orange, and striped.
"Rex," Fang greeted. "You're here already. Does that mean...?"
Rex just nodded and stretched his arms in his uniquely feline manner, his solid muscles visible even under his crisp, black security suit.
Fang turned and scanned the crowd of customers quickly before shaking his head and gesturing for Kev to take a seat.
"You're looking better tonight," Kev said. "You gonna let me sit?"
Rex looked over at Kev, his usual lecherous grin slowly growing on his face. "Come sit on my lap if you want. I'm not gonna stop you."
Kev rolled his eyes. Already with this. He turned and glanced up at Fang. "Can you get me a water gun?"
"A water what?" Fang said. He was already looking back over his shoulder towards the customers again.
"Never mind," Kev murmured before turning back to Rex. "Just get out of my seat. Why are you even up here? It's not your day off again, is it?"
"You wish," Rex said with a sneer.
Kev did not have time to remind Rex what had happened just two days prior before the tiger continued. "Our VIP is here. I'm floating tonight to make sure there are no major incidents."
"Floating?" Kev questioned. "Why don't you float out of my spot?"
"Oh, eat my dick, human," Rex said. "This is the best spot in the VIP section to watch the bar and the dance floor at the same time. You and the wolf can play footsies or something."
Kev sighed and sat himself down across from Fang's normal spot. He didn't have an argument for Rex's work logic. The tiger was a huge asshole, but he was a really good security guard, and all the other guards did seem to genuinely respect him.
From his seat, Kev watched Fang watch the crowd. The wolf was still standing, a silent, imposing figure at the edge of the booth. He was tense, his broad shoulders held stiffly, his head on a constant, slow swivel as his amber eyes scanned every face that entered the main bar, every shadow in the corners. He was a predator, patiently, warily, waiting for the arrival of another apex predator. He was looking for the Mafia Don.
"Hey, Fang," Kev said. "Sit down and relax a bit."
Fang pulled his gaze from the swirling chaos of the bar and sat. It took a few moments before he really registered that Kev was sitting across from him instead of beside him. He looked over at Rex, who was still relaxed and gazing out at the crowd. Fang frowned, then got up, moving around the table to slide in next to his human.
"It's weird being on your left side," Kev said, pulling a smoke from his silver case.
"Is it?" Fang asked, glancing over. "I do not like this spot much either."
Kev snorted a little. "It's the same spot. It's just... we are going to be bumping into each other now since you're a lefty." He raised his right arm, which held his cigarette.
"Oh. Yes, that too," Fang said. "But I cannot see the entrance to the VIP section from here." He glanced over his shoulder at Talon and Skippy.
"Well," Kev said, "we won't have to worry about it for too long, since we'll be moving to the conservatory."
Fang had just begun to reply when his ears twitched, and he sat up straight, his body going rigid. He turned to look towards the customers again, his earlier search now replaced by a focused, pinpoint stare.
A small crowd near the bar suddenly stepped away from something, their bodies parting like a curtain. Kev couldn't see through the wall of fur and fabric, but a few gasps and a sharp shout rang out over the music, distinct and jarring.
Fang stood, his earlier weariness gone, replaced by a cold, sharp authority. "I will be right back," he said, his voice a low command. He turned to Talon. "You. Eyes on Kev." He then turned to Rex, who was already rising from his seat. "You, follow."
Kev scooted to the edge of the booth seat and watched as Fang cut a straight line through the crowd. The wolfman didn't shove or push; he simply moved forward with an irresistible force, and the ring of curious customers seemed to melt away before him. Many of them, once they noticed Fang was there to personally deal with the issue, quickly decided that their drinks needed refreshing and retreated from the scene.
Kev stood up and approached the velvet rope. He strained, trying to catch a glimpse of the action. Luckily, enough people had retreated after Fang cast them aside that he suddenly had a direct line of sight.
There, in the center of the cleared space, a cobra-man stood over a whimpering, fluffy poodle-man, who was curled up on the floor. The cobra was dressed in a sleek, dark pants and shirt, but he had a brown leather vest on over it and a gaudy bolo tie with a massive turquoise clasp. He was in the process of kicking the poodle, his sharp, pointed boot connecting with the fluffy man's ribs with a sickening thud.
"Enough!" Fang roared.
The cobra-man gave the poodle one last, contemptuous kick before fixing his suit, his long, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. As he turned, Rex stepped forward, planting himself directly in the cobra's path, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes narrowed into slits. The tiger and the snake squared off.
Most of the customers were moving away from the scene. It was apparent that everyone really did know who Rex was and that they did not want to be nearby if he decided that the snake needed to be punished. So, with everyone moving outward, the inward movement of one individual caught Kev's eye.
He was a Boer goat-man, and he moved with a slow, deliberate purpose that was a stark contrast to the retreating crowd. He wore a full, severe black suit with a Roman collar, the stark white of which stood out against his dark fur. His frame was thick, his shoulders broad, and a pair of impressive, curved horns swept back from his head, making him look quite intimidating. However, resting at the base of his neck, gleaming against the black fabric, was a small, polished brass bell that let out a soft, almost melodic clink with each step.
Kev watched as the goat stopped directly in front of Fang.
"You must be Fang," the goat-man said, his voice a deep, calm baritone.
"And you are...?" Fang growled, his eyes narrowing.
"I am merely a teacher," the bell-wearing goat said. "The real question is, who are you?"
"I am Mr. Fang," Fang growled, "and I am enforcing the 'no fighting' policy by having this man," he pointed to the cobra who was still in a standoff with Rex, "removed."
The goat-man smiled. "Mr. Fang, it is a pleasure to meet you. But this is not a fight. It is... a lesson." He gestured to the whimpering poodle. "You see, this dumb dog is one of my guards." He gave a sigh and shook his head. "He had the nerve to get his drink before I got mine."
Fang stepped closer. "So you are part of this disruption?"
"Ha ha!" The goat-man laughed, the sound deep and resonant. "Warlock was right. You are a riot. Oh, just keep those jokes until we sit down to eat and we can really talk."
Fang blinked a few times, then stood a bit straighter, looking the goat-man over again without being too obvious.
The goat-man raised a glass he'd been holding. "I'm off to see your accommodations. See you in half an hour."
The Don turned and walked away, deliberately stepping on the poodle's back as he headed towards the west wing. The poodle let out a sharp yelp. The cobra-man, after a final, venomous hiss at Rex, slithered after his boss, leaving the motionless guard alone on the floor.
Kev shook his head. A goat? Really? Not a polar bear, or a jaguar, or even a penguin? He was about to turn back and steal Rex's seat when yet another pair of furry customers approached Fang and Rex, who now looked quite despondent that he hadn't gotten to fight anyone.
"Sorry for the mess, Mr. Fang," Warlock said with his arms spread wide. "Mr. Baphomet is used to his servants cleaning up after him, but I guess those duties fall upon me tonight."
"That was your boss?" Fang asked, staring after the goat.
"Oh yes," Warlock grinned. He stopped next to Fang before looking down and prodding the unconscious poodle with his foot. The otter snapped his fingers and said, "Bruno, let us bring this dog out to the cars."
Kev watched with a bit of horror as Bruno simply grabbed the dog-man by one of his legs and hoisted him up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Warlock elbowed Fang lightly and said, "We will need to review the employee handbook with this one again… if you know what I mean."