The Midnight Foxxx

Chapter 3

VIXEN

Hot afternoon sun beats down over my exhausted body. Sweat drips down in rivulets, leaving behind a sticky uncomfortable sensation. The dampness in my palms causes my grip to slip but still hit the target with the tomahawk, however it lands on an outer ring. I growl in frustration and unsheathe the second blade from my hip. My arm aches, the muscles screaming for a break after hours of target practice but ignore the burn for one last throw. This time, I hit my mark, and exhale in satisfaction. The sunbaked concrete feels like its searing my ass when I sit down, but it’s barely noticed. I glare at the target on the opposite side of the roof as if it personally offended me. Two tomahawks and at least ten throwing knives are imbedded in the weathered wood.

“Is glaring at it going to improve your aim?” The quiet afternoon is disrupted by a deep voice, startling me.

“f**k! Stop doing that,” I whip my head around to glare at Brax.

“I will when you stop being so jumpy,” he teases, a smirk playing at his lips.

“f**k you,” I grumble, turning my gaze back to the target. The vampire steps closer, crouching down beside me and analyzes my accuracy.

“Your aim is impeccable,” he muses, “though you were always a natural.”

I smile, reminiscing the first time I held a throwing axe in my hand. It had been Brax’s, a real tomahawk from when he was still alive and human. He never talks about his human life, what tribe he was from, how he died, but shared his most treasured possession with me, his favorite weapon. The only remaining tie to his past. Against his better judgement, and after I begged him, he taught me how to properly throw it and thus discovering I was a natural. He continued to train me in secret, but Silas found out eventually. Rather than anger like I had anticipated, he saw potential, landing me in my current situation as the club’s enforcer.

“It’s a curse,” I mumble, smile falling into a scowl. Brax hums thoughtfully.

“How did the last job go?” He asks, shifting his gaze to me.

I sigh in frustration. “Could have gone better. I got the target, but he was with a friend. I couldn’t pin him down alone and ended up having to kill the second guy too. Silas… wasn’t happy. Said it was too reckless and will rouse more unwanted attention.” Amber eyes gaze into mine, face neutral and difficult to read.

“I didn’t know what to do. It was either kill them both or risk whatever punishment for returning empty handed,” I pull my knees up to my chest, making myself as small as possible.

“You did what you had to,” he soothes, a cool hand rubs my back. “What’s your punishment for killing the second guy?”

“I have to work the floor every night this week, and he’s making me do my solo act Friday, Saturday, AND Sunday,” exhaustion weighs down on me just thinking about it.

Brax clicks his tongue, “When does he expect you to sleep?”

I laugh dryly, “You think he gives a s**t?” His hand continues to rub gentle circles on my back.

“Why don’t you go get in a nap before we open for the evening and I’ll pick up here, sharpen all your blades too.” A smile pulls at my lips, and I simply nod before pulling myself up, wincing when every muscle protests the movement. “Thanks,” I say softly, earning a small smile in return.

Neon club lights strobe rhythmically to loud pop music. The powerful bass vibrates my rib cage. Hungry eyes rake over my mostly naked body, undressing what little clothing I have on with their imaginations. It used to bother me once upon a time, but after years of being ogled and groped, and sometimes worse, a numbness had taken over. Let them stare, at least they aren’t touching me.

“Here are the drinks for table 4,” The bartender yells over the loud music. I don’t bother trying to yell back a response, instead just nod my acknowledgement and take the tray. Bodies bob, bounce, and writhe to the music. Luckily, it's a weeknight and the club isn’t too busy so weaving through all of them isn’t too difficult. As I near table four I plaster the biggest smile I can manage onto my face an greet them with a bubbly voice.

“Drinks are here!” Three sets of eyes snap to me, all of them staring at my mostly bare chest. I set the drink down on the table, having to bend over a bit to reach and place the last drink. A hand finds its way onto my ass and have to stop myself from lashing out. Flicking my eyes to the offender, I’m met with a sleazy smile stretched across his face. I smile sweetly at him before bringing my lips to his ear.

“You know the rules, if you want to touch, you have to pay extra and talk to the boss man.” I nip his ear playfully but purposefully bite just a little too hard with sharpened canines, making him yelp. His hand immediately leaves my ass, taking the hint. The sweet smile stays on my lips as I thank them for coming and promptly leave.

“You need to head backstage, it's almost time for the first performance,” The bartender informs me when I drop the tray off at the bar. I nod before leaving without saying anything. Once backstage the forced smile immediately drops and tensed muscles relax slightly. I find an open mirror and give myself a once over. Hair still looks decent, long, dark and curled to Silas’ specifications. Makeup isn’t smudged, and the ridiculous fox ears are still in place, perched perfectly on the top of my head. I turn around and check that the even more ridiculous fox tail is still hanging off the pathetic excuse of a skirt I’m forced to wear as a ‘uniform’.

The rest of the female dancers are lined up in their respective places behind the closed stage curtains. Ignoring the glares and hushed whispers I take my place towards the center of the stage. Despite my best efforts to stay out of the spotlight, staying in the back to go unnoticed, I somehow managed to become a club favorite, earning me a permanent place in the center of all group performances plus solo ones on busier nights. Silas always seems to find a way to make me useful, forever at his service and mercy. All I can do is hope and pray to the Moon Goddess that one day I’ll deplete my usefulness, and he’ll finally set me free, give back my soul I so stupidly signed over to him.

Curtains suddenly opening draws me out of my thoughts. The club has gone completely black, the music silenced to build anticipation. With a loud click, multi colored lights flood the stage and a low bass starts to ramp up. When the bass meets its peak the practiced dance routine begins. Ten sets of hips sway side to side, breasts bounce to the beat, and asses shake. The patrons of the club are going wild, whistling and cat calling. Money starts raining down onto the stage when I twirl around, back facing the audience, and bend over exposing my ass completely while wiggling it in the air. One of the rowdier patrons in the front row starts calling my name and waving money at me. My hips sway exaggeratedly as I walk, earning a grin from the man. I sit down directly in front of him, legs hanging off the side of the stage. Sweaty hands caress my bare thighs, sliding up to the visible strap of my thong to tuck a few bills under it. I smile devilishly at him and part my legs, my p***y directly in front of his face, separated only by a thin piece of fabric. His eyes widen and everyone around us goes crazy, showering me with varying sized bills. More hands start grabbing at me, and I snap my legs shut before gracefully hoisting myself up, taking all the cash with me.

The next part of the routine is just beginning when I return to center stage. The other girls are stripping out of their tops, and I follow suit, n*****s hardening at the sudden cold air. Cheers and whistles fill the club again. Sweat collects in the creases of muscles, glistening to the rhythmic pulse of the lights. A group of large males near the front of the stage catch my attention, not only are they being exceptionally loud, but their scents are also incredibly pungent. The potency of the scents tells me they’re all wolf shifters, but the way they mingle and intertwine with each other indicates they aren’t rogues, but members of a pack. Unease floods my system and muscles stiffen. I try my best not to let my eyes linger, and to keep the rehearsed movements relaxed and fluid. Nerves start to fray as the performance goes on, lingering stares prickle my skin uncomfortably.

The song ends and so does the performance. Chancing one last glance at the guest shifters I’m met with piercing blue eyes and a head of curly blonde hair looking directly at me. His expression remains neutral as I smile sweetly at him before making a swift exit. Anxiety starts to wrap its claws around me. Shifters have always made me nervous but luckily the only ones to enter the club so far have been rogues. Something about legitimate pack members showing up makes an even more uncomfortable feeling settle over my chest.

Shaking off the discomfort I go to head back out to the floor to continue serving drinks but I’m stopped by an all too familiar voice, “Vixen!” Silas’ voice booms over the loud music.

“Yes?” I turn to face him.

“You’ve been requested. He’s waiting in room 3,” his tone clipped.

“I’m working the floor tonight. I’m not on escort duty,” I say tentatively, not wanting to anger him but I also don’t want to f**k anyone.

“He paid extra to request you specifically. Now go, or are you going to need some encouragement?” Anger flickers in his eyes and pulls a little pink pill out of his pocket. My breath hitches and immediately apologize.

“No sir, that won’t be necessary. I’ll go to him right away,” I eye the pill held between his fingers, desperately hoping he won’t make me take it. “I promise I’ll behave. I don't need ‘medication’, sir,” I plead with him.

Dark eyes narrow as they appraise me, “See that you do behave. He informed me you were rather rough with him earlier.” I realize belatedly I have been requested by the pervert who grabbed my ass earlier. He slips the pill back into his pocket and walks back to his office.

“I’ll show him f*****g rough,” I grumble under my breath as I stock towards the back rooms. A smirk makes its way onto my lips. This human has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.