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Ren caught my eye, flashing a fanged, slanted smile that was cut short with a loud curse. Bright pink liqueur covered her hand and the bar top where she’d overfilled a shot glass.

“Distracted?” I teased, grabbing a rag and leaning into her personal space to mop up the mess. I lingered in her bubble as I dragged the fabric over her hands, clearing away the sticky liquid.

“Yes,” she muttered, taking a deep breath through her nose. Her pupils dilated as she took in my mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, tongue darting out like she could taste what Elsie and I’d been doing in the air.

I was sure she could. She’d definitely be able to smell the vampire all over me and see the faded lipstick prints that peppered my neck and shoulder.

Okay, fine. And the tiny dress I’d worn tonight was practically screaming,Hello, sexy vampire, I am dying for you to look at me.

At the time I chose it, I wasn’t sure if I meant Ren or Elsie. Or both.

I wasn’t a huge fan of Valentine’s Day myself, largely since I’d never really dated anyone seriously enough to share it with, but could you blame a girl for wanting to tempt their crush into a bit of romance on the one day of the year dedicated to it?

The woman at the bar, clearly trying to flirt her way into Ren’s bed tonight, huffed and tossed her mane of sleek black hair over her shoulder. “My drink, Ren?”

“Right; sorry, Marina. Here you are,” Ren replied, her eyes not straying from my face as she slid the shot glass across the bar to her.

Marina tapped her French-manicured nails on the bar, pouting. “Ren, this isn’t what I ordered.”

“Looks perfect to me,” the vampire said dismissively, her fingers trailing down my lower back to rest at the swell of my ass. “Did you have a Valentine’s date without me, Striker?”

I laughed, nudging her out of the way with my hip, dislodging her hand in the process, and turned to Marina. “What’s she supposed to be making you?”

“Forget it, blood bag,” Marina sniped, heaving an irritated sigh and collecting her shot. “Looks like what I want isn’t on the menu.”

"You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself," Ren muttered, caging me against the bar with my back to her front. Then, louder so her voice would carry, “See you next week, Mar.”

“Who said that?” I asked, giving in to the impulse to grind my ass against her. Ren’s hand found my waist, keeping me close, and I smirked.

Okay, maybe I was still alittlevenom drunk.

And maybe I was just really tired of waiting for the overly polite bartender to make a real move.

“Margaret Atwood,” Ren mumbled, her hand moving south until her fingertips teased the hem of my dress out of the view of the patrons. She pushed the fabric up a couple of inches, tracing a pattern of little circles on my thigh.

I laughed breathlessly. “Need I remind you we’re atwork?”

She chuckled, eyes flicking to the stage where Elsie had already stripped off her bra, showing off her breasts. The ones I hadn’t had enough time with.

She would need to go home with me at the end of the night. We had unfinished business.

Like she could read my thoughts, Ren’s hand moved higher, brushing the edge of my panties before she covered my pussy with her hand, finding me still wet.

“Yes, we certainly are.” Ren snickered. “But you seem needy.” Her lips ghosted over the shell of my ear, making me squirm in her firm hold. “I’m wondering if anyone would notice if I stuck my fing?—”

“Ren, flirt with Striker later! We’re up to our eyes in it, for fuck’s sake.” Cole shouted, shoving past us to collect a bottle from the top shelf.

“Shit, sorry, Blondie,” Ren said to him before whispering, “Make time for me afterwards? I have something for you.”

Then she released me to stalk toward the point of sale to look at the tickets like she hadn’t made me even wetter with nothing but promises.

“Lovebirds,” Cole said, though the bitterness was undercut by a good-natured laugh. “If you’re done canoodling, I’ll go take that break now.”

“You got it,” I called, busying myself with the clients sitting closest to me.

I worked through the orders quickly, earning myself a couple of fat tips that I earmarked for my mom’s overdue light bill, and if there was anything left over, some flowers for the girls. It’d be nice to do something for them, even if it would be a couple of days late. My mind was already turning over what arrangements would work the best for everyone as I weaved from guest to guest, matching flirty smiles and trading compliments.

It was obvious the extra attention was due to the fact I smelled like sex to every vampire in a ten-foot radius, but damn—the money was so good it had me questioning if I should bedealing with damp panties four nights a week so I could finally pay off that overdue credit card the bank kept calling about.