Page 4 of Grim’s Delight (The New Protectorate Syndicate #1)
A week after she started, a server named Jackson got into trouble when he tried dating two different vampires at once. One of the women ended up dead, disemboweled in the restroom, and Jackson never showed up to work again.
Despite abundant cautionary tales, some servers took the job explicitly to find a wealthy vampire to attach themselves to, but it was a very dangerous game.
More often than not they got used and dumped before a permanent bond was formed, leaving them to deal with venom withdrawal on their own.
On the rare occasions they didn’t, there was almost always another vampire in the wings, furious that someone they thought was already their property had been snapped up.
She and Cecilia had learned quickly that surviving their job meant keeping their heads down, giving good service, and never letting a vampire get attached. Head down, tray up, they said.
Of course, that only worked with the customers. Management was another story.
Devon hadn’t always been the boss. His brother, Duke, was in charge when she was hired. He’d been thoroughly disinterested in the job and left the staff — and patrons — alone, for the most part. It was a sad day for them all when Devon took over.
His pale blue eyes found her immediately when she stepped out onto the floor, her silver tray tucked under her arm. Devon looked at all the servers like they were meat, but he reserved a special sort of intensity for her.
She’d really hoped he’d roll in fashionably late and a little drunk, like he sometimes did.
But he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed that evening, dressed in his tightest white buttondown and slacks.
His pale blond hair was swept behind his ears and his thin silver nose ring gleamed in the neon lights of the bar.
Dahlia really had no idea what look he was going for. The closest thing she could come up with was boy band member meets mobster in all the worst possible ways.
Gesturing with his claws for her and two other servers, he flashed his fangs in a way that was probably supposed to be intimidating. She sucked in a deep breath and prayed for patience.
“Good evening,” he drawled, gaze taking a leisurely stroll up and down her body before flicking toward the other servers assigned to the VIP rooftop lounge.
“We’ve got some really important guests here tonight, so I don’t need to tell you what’ll happen if you fuck up, do I?
I want the synth flowing all night — no limit. The most expensive stuff we have.”
He was somehow more wound up than usual tonight. Urgency practically oozed out of him when he ordered, “Whatever you have to do to make our guests happy, you do it. No questions asked. Clear?”
They all nodded. There were no rookies in their little VIP crew, which meant that they all knew it was best to keep their mouths shut.
Dismissing them as carelessly as he summoned them, Dahlia was relieved to be free. She didn’t make it three steps in her black pumps before she felt him breathing down the back of her neck.
“Hold on a minute, Dahlia,” he purred. Devon didn’t touch her, but he didn’t need to. She knew better than to disobey.
Gritting her teeth, she counted her blessings that he was talking to her in the main bar, where servers and bartenders ran around getting everything ready for opening. “Yes, sir?”
“Stick close to me tonight, okay? I want the prettiest woman by my side.” He offered her a slow, sensual smile. It was the same one he’d been giving her for months. Why he still thought it worked on her, she had no idea.
Bracing a hand on the bar behind her, he leaned in as close as he could without touching her.
Vampires, like most predators, were picky about scents.
But like everything else, they took it to an extreme.
A server who smelled like a vampire sold fewer drinks.
They hated the scent of each other near their food.
It had something to do with the fact that vampire venom was toxic to their own kind, meaning no two people could feed from the same source.
If the bar wanted to sell synth, they needed their servers to smell fresh and unclaimed, which meant Devon had to restrain himself from laying his hands on her.
How long that restraint would last, Dahlia didn’t know.
Devon had been slowly but surely encroaching on her life since he took over the bar.
He texted her at odd hours, demanded to know who she spent her days off with, and she was pretty sure she’d seen him — or one of his men — outside her apartment building more than once.
All the signs pointed to his patience running out. She just hoped it wouldn’t happen tonight.
“You know I love having you around,” he breathed, too close to her ear, “but I hate seeing you work so hard. When are you going to let me take care of you, baby? If it were up to me, you’d be in my penthouse right now, wanting for nothing.”
Her skin crawled. Like all the creeps who’d come before him, he made it sound like he wanted to take care of her, to save her from a life of drudgery and poverty with his sky-high credit limit and mediocre pussy petting. He didn’t mention what he’d expect in return: her entire life.
If he’d just been after her blood, she might have been able to see the appeal in an arrangement, but when vampires fixed on someone, they never settled for something so simple.
Dahlia had seen a lot of bad relationships, but she didn’t need any of their examples to know that letting Devon into her life was a terrible idea. Not that he’d get that far. There was a very real reason she’d stopped dating and it wasn’t just her lack of free time.
Devon was an asshole, but she didn’t want him dead. Yet.
Putting her tray between them like a shield, she slipped away from the bar. “Doors are open. I better get to the lounge.”
Devon let her go with a smug half-smile. “See you there, baby.”