Page 4

Kai

For the second time in five minutes, I manage to save the vamp from himself.

Good thing he’s cute, because he’s kind of a disaster.

I don’t even have the time to respond to the possible insult—I mean I do work for tips, but for bartending, not for chatting up guys on the floor—before he’s crashing towards the ground with a comically panicked face.

I manage to catch him before he hits the disgusting, sticky floors of the club, hauling him upright. The stool is a lost cause, so blondie ends up doing a weird two-step thing when I pull him up. The unsteady movement sends him stumbling into me with a loud oof sound.

“Gods, why do I bother leaving the house?” He mutters, jerking himself out of my hands before I can even truly take in the feel of him against me.

He runs a hand through his blond hair, making it flop back down in his face again and looks around frantically between the table and the sea of beings dancing behind us on the dance floor. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was avoiding looking at me. Probably because he is. I’m almost offended.

“I wasn’t looking for a tip, my guy.” I say to get his attention again .

He’s muttering to himself and sending frantic wide eyes to a group of beings on the floor who are watching us with amused interest.

“Huh?” His head whips around back to me. It’s hard to hear in the club, which is my excuse to step closer to him.

He takes a panicked half step back when I do, so I stop my advance. “I said I wasn’t looking for a tip.”

Somehow, that only makes him panic more. He turns from me, his eyes darting around while his mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to think of something to say. I tilt my head to catch his bright green and red eyes again. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

I make sure to hold his eyes for another second, to really drive the point home. The point seems to sink in because he flushes pink again and squeezes his eyes shut, a smile trying to break through the anxiety on his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you and—shit!

Thank you for saving me, too.” He winces, his fangs gleaming in the light.

There is a smudge of blood on the right one, and if I wasn’t working I’d want to lick it off.

But I actually do have a job to get back to before Lifo cracks the shits. Again.

I take another step forward, and this time he doesn’t retreat on me.

“Definitely my pleasure, hot stuff.” I wink, loving the way the blood fires up his skin. He bites his lip, that bloody fang digging into the soft, pink flesh.

I have to force myself to stop looking at it.

These shorts are dangerously tight and getting anything past half chub would probably get me fired.

I brush some imaginary lint off his shoulder, just to have another excuse to touch him.

The subtle shiver at the innocent touch makes me want to do it again.

So I do .

I’ve never been great at impulse control.

It’s how I ended up over here in the first place.

I saw him sitting here at the table all alone while I did the rounds on the floor, collecting dirty glasses and making sure everything was okay.

A spotlight hit him at the perfect moment, lighting him up just as he smiled at whoever he was watching.

I’ve long since lost my shifter instincts but it didn’t matter.

Something about him called to me. Maybe it was the uncomfortable way he perched on his stool, trying to curl himself in, make himself seem smaller.

Or the way he kept shoving his hair out of his face, even though it just fell straight back where it had been moments before.

Or that he kept laughing and just a half a second later, pulling himself back, as if it wasn’t allowed or something.

I don’t know. But something about the awkward, adorable man said this guy—he’s important. I knew it in my guts—I had to go talk to him. So I dumped my glasses on an empty table and here we are.

My hand rests on his shoulder, my thumb drawing a circle there on the fabric. It’s soft, super worn-in cotton. But that’s not why I’m touching him. I really need to go, but I can’t seem to make myself pull away. To be fair though, I’m not trying very hard.

Eyes still locked on his, I see his lips part and my predator-like focus catches his tongue darting out, before he reconsiders and rolls his lips over his teeth, sealing his mouth shut decisively.

I wonder what he tastes like? I bet it’s blood and anxiety and innocence. I bet it would be intoxicating.

“Finny-boy! Whaddya doin’?” The hypnotic connection is broken when an orc barrels into my guy. Unfortunately, he doesn’t end up plastered against me again. The orc catches him and yanks him back in a drunken hug.

He looks apologetic as he’s engulfed by his group. At least with all his friends shouting at him I've managed to find out his name. Finn .

Is it petty to notice that the touching is all friendly rather than gropey? Probably. But I am petty, so I don’t care. Especially when I’m already having to swallow my disappointment that our moment has been interrupted.

“I’ll just grab these if you’re done.” I tip my head towards the collection of glasses on the table.

The group makes a chorus of noise about mine and Nikolo’s dance. Only one guy, the tall one with the long black hair pulled up in mage-braids, doesn’t look entirely impressed with my presence at their table. He glares at me with an icy stare the entire time I’m stacking their glasses.

Resting them carefully against my shoulder I give them all a friendly nod goodbye—all of them except Finn.

“Don’t be a stranger.” I hold eye contact for as long as I can, before looking him up and down one last time, my eyes dragging over every inch of him as slowly as they please.

Is it too much to hope that he gets the hint and we can meet up somewhere on my break? He does look a little panicked. Maybe it’s not his thing, but what can I say? I’m an optimist.

I wink again, turning my back on his pretty as shit blush and his friends’ cat calling and teasing. Fighting the urge to turn back and look at him, I make my way back to the bar, a happy buzz in my veins that not even Lifo can kill.

Okay. Maybe it dims a little as the night wears on and Finn fails to make an appearance at the bar. I think I see one of his friends come up and order, but Belinda gets to them before I can. Maybe he’s decided to avoid me by using the small bar at the back of the club we open on the weekends?

Not that I’d be able to leave to get up to any fun anyway.

It’s chaos—one of those kinds of nights that we wish Maddy hadn’t put a blanket ban on roller skates.

One tiny accident and a little fire in the DJ booth and suddenly she’s all, ‘Insurance doesn’t cover this’ and, ‘I’m not paying your lawyer fees’. Pfft.

It wasn’t even mine and Nikolo’s fault that the fiery fae lost control of their flames.

But as the night wears on we don’t even get a chance to breathe—metaphorically anyway—having to chug our blood squatting behind the bar rather than taking our actual breaks.

It’s later than normal by the time that Nikki and I manage to get back on the bar. We’re received with the same roaring approval we always are. And just like always, there is the same rush of having all those eyes on me.

Only this time, I put a little more into it. Between the flashing lights and the phones pointed in my direction, I can’t see for shit, but if Finn is still out there, I’m determined to give him a little something extra. Maybe that’ll convince him to come back.

I toe the line with the crowd as far as I can without getting us done for public indecency.

Though, with the way Nikki is basically humping the bar, maybe we’re done for anyway?

I shake my ass and I run my hands all over my shiny, glitter covered chest the way I know they want to.

I shred my air guitar in a way that just happens to have me thrusting my junk in the face of a guy whose friends dragged him up to the front.

All while dodging the groping, grabby hands of our adoring public.

By the time closing time comes, I’m a couple of hundred dollars richer in tips, exhausted to my bones, and have more numbers shoved into my jockstrap than a vampire knows what to do with.

I’m a little disappointed that I don’t have the number I’m after, but even without my old shifter instincts, I know for certain I’m gonna see him again.

And I can’t fucking wait.