Page 23 of Witches and Wine (The Mythical Mates of Arcane Cove #1)

When Apollo said he wanted to meet at a new dive bar in town, I’d expected it to be your average run-of-the-mill Irish pub or even a sports bar with a dozen screens everywhere.

What I wasn’t expecting was The Crimson Crypt.

The outside looked like the building couldn’t decide whether it wanted to attract bikers or vampires.

Considering Arcane Cove harbored all walks of paranormal and mythical beings, I found myself curling a hand around my neck as if that’d protect it.

There were several motorcycles in the parking lot, but not enough to constitute it a full-blown biker bar.

Other vehicles ranged everywhere from Hondas to Porsches.

It was still too early in the evening for the neon signs to glow, but something told me they would blaze in vibrant red.

The rose logo dripped some form of liquid in cascading drops onto the bar’s name, coating it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I tugged on the hem of my suit jacket, tightened my grip on the briefcase, and headed inside.

It was just as divided as the outside with its décor.

At first glance, it appeared to be your average American bar fare with a jukebox, numerous hanging TVs playing sports, and several high-top tables.

Various logos and insignia hung on the walls—Harley Davidson, Triumph, Orlando Magic, Coppertone.

There was no discernible theme, which led me to believe it was someone’s metal sign collection or something similar.

The bar, situated at the back, was what drew the eyes—bathed in red and dark purple lighting, a giant blackened candelabra with lit, melting red candles hung over the black leather high-back stools.

The bar was circular and deep mahogany, with so many rows of liquor bottles that the ornate Gothic shelves extended to the ceiling.

No music was playing currently, only the overlapping sounds of murmured conversations and the different sports announcers on the TVs.

“Chelsea,” Apollo’s voice called out.

The Greek sun god sat at a corner table, waving me over and smiling so brightly it seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit bar.

As I walked through the space, the magic flowing from every patron called to my power, tugging on an invisible thread that made me antsy.

No one had looked especially out of the ordinary until I passed a table with two males—one had pointed ears with several small hoop earrings, his hair starch white, and his skin the color of a starless sky.

The other appeared human, jet black hair slicked back with gel, sapphire eyes, and a charming smile.

That was until a tentacle resembling that of an octopus, suckers and all, emerged from his jacket, nearing my hip.

Batting it away with my purse, I tilted my chin at the curious blue-grey tentacle. “You always let that thing roam where it doesn’t belong?”

The man shot his gaze toward me and stifled a gasp when he saw how close the tentacle was to my waist. It snapped back into his jacket, and the man bowed his head.

“Apologies. They sometimes have a mind of their own. But—” He scanned my body, landing on my face. “—I can see why it was so intrigued.”

“Thank you all the same, but you can tell your appendages— all of them—that I’m spoken for.”

Was I spoken for? Was what I had started with Dion real?

No. I was not going to think about that. I came here for a distraction. Dion or not, it was as good an excuse as any to show them I wasn’t interested.

The two males chuckled, the one with white hair more so cackling, and I sat at the table across from Apollo. Flicking hair from my eyes, I rested my purse on the table after wiping off something sticky with a paper napkin from the dispenser.

Apollo watched me with amusement, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “Is this like a ritual for you?”

Ritual. I hadn’t known I was a witch except for a matter of days, and for some reason, that’s precisely where my mind went first.

“Ritual? Like a spell-casting ritual?” I’d paused mid-way to lining up my pen, highlighter, and stylus to the left and right of my laptop.

The skin at the corners of Apollo’s eyes crinkled, and his mouth opened, but no words immediately followed. “No? I meant, for example, how I have a ritual tuning my guitar before every performance. In fact, I do it twice .”

“Oh,” I responded a bit sheepishly. Glancing from my laptop squared to the table’s edge and the tops of my three writing implements vertically aligned, I slouched in my seat. “I guess I never noticed I had them.”

It never felt like that around Dion. His very presence relaxed me. He made me forget about patterns and worries. In the forest, I’d damn near forgotten my name and didn’t care. It was just as they had described—unbridled freedom without judgment.

“Chelsea?” Apollo above the noise from the surrounding TVs, startling me.

My elbow slipped from the table, and I winced, also tearing my thumbnail in a painful spot from where I’d been chewing on it. “Hm, what?”

“Wow, where were you just then, Stewart?” Apollo asked, leaning back casually on his seat with his fingers drumming on the table.

Stifling a cough, I pulled up Word documents and spreadsheets for Apollo’s Suns and separated them into equal quadrants on my screen. “Apologies, I’m not normally as distracted.”

“Does this have anything to do with a certain wine god,” Apollo asked, pointing at me. When my gaze snapped to him, he was already flashing me a snarky smile. “Uh-huh. There it is. Wait.” He sat up straight, the grin fading. “He hasn’t been an asshole to you, has he?”

Grabbing the pen, I began to click it furiously. “No. Nothing like that—or maybe? I don’t know.”

“How’s that work?” Apollo pressed his palms onto the table and tilted his head to the side. “Not knowing if one is being an asshole to you or not.”

My magic prickled at my skin, growing as frustrated as I’d felt, and I almost slammed the pen back on the table but stopped short and placed it. “With all due respect, I’d much rather put all of my energy into establishing your first gigs.”

Apollo gave a disappointed nod and drummed his fingers on the table, a staccato-type rhythm only a music god could produce. “Fair enough. Where do we start?”

“You mentioned performing at Dion’s—” Before I could get the rest of my sentence out, memories of him appearing behind me, his beard tickling my chin, lips pressed to the shell of my ear, tantalized me.

Undoing one of my shirt buttons from the flush coursing my skin, I fanned myself as nonchalantly as I could. “—club? Bacchus?”

My flusters did not go unnoticed by Apollo. He appeared amused by them. “Yeah, that’s the obvious one. But I was also thinking about this place.” Apollo circled his hand in the air, referencing the bar.

After taking a quick survey, I turned back to him with pursed lips. “I don’t see a stage or even a set-up for one. It doesn’t look like the kind of place to hold live performances.”

“Exactly. I could do an unplugged sort of deal with Raven.” Apollo looked to a vacant corner as if he was already picturing himself seated on a stool with an instrument in his grasp.

“Who’s Raven?”

Apollo sulked in his chair, the adjustment making the sun charm hanging from his neck catch the neon bar signs. “My acoustic guitar.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” I quickly added everything to the Word documents. “Do you play anything else besides the guitar?”

Apollo blinked before tossing his head back and roaring with laughter. “Does the god of music play more than one instrument, she asks?”

My face warmed, and I folded a strand of hair over my ear. “Sorry. Prior human brain and all.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time, trying to lighten the mood a bit. But yeah, I can play damn near any string instrument you throw at me. A few woodwinds, too.” Apollo reached into his pocket, producing a yellow guitar pick, and proceeded to roll it over his knuckles.

“The cello?” I asked, my voice wistful.

Apollo clenched the pick in his fist. “I can play the shit out of the cello.”

“I love the cello,” I added.

Apollo raked a hand through his chin-length bright blonde hair, his glacial eyes glittering at my words. “Really? Would’ve pegged you more of the violin type.”

Simply smiling to myself, I continued to type notes. “We’ll need to talk with the owner about you performing here. They may not allow it.”

“Turn down the opportunity to have the Apollo here? Unlikely.” Apollo beat a hand against his chest like a gorilla.

Laughing, I propped my elbow on the table. “This isn’t a mortal realm, Apollo. They may not be as impressed.”

Apollo’s mouth gaped. “You insult me.” A grin soon slid over his lips.

“Do you know the owner?”

“I do. But it’s still too early in the evening for her to be in.” Apollo peeked out the window, the sun dipping under the horizon but still plainly in view in shades of purple, orange, and crimson.

“Not late enough?” I snorted. “What is she, a vampire?”

“Yes.”

My fingers froze on the keyboard, and after saving my progress, I rightly slapped the laptop shut. “I keep forgetting. This is all so overwhelming. I’m horrible with overwhelming. I start to stammer. I flush pink. I forget how to breathe, I?—”

Apollo rested his hand atop mine, nothing sensual, just a reassuring, friendly gesture. “Hey, Chelsea? It’s going to be okay.”

Tears welled in my eyes because as much as I appreciated Apollo’s kindness, I wanted that to be Dion’s hand. I desired nothing more than to have those amber eyes gleaming at me with that warm and calming nature only he could give me.

Only him.

“Or maybe—not,” Apollo said, his eyes widening at something behind me. He slid his hand from mine and slowly sat back.

“Apollo? What is it?”

Scents of soap, earth, and wine permeated the air around us, instantly making my core tighten.

Dion was here. How did he know where I was? Did I really have summoning power over him?

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dion roared, his voice a beastly pitch I hadn’t heard from him. He loomed over Apollo, who stood as soon as Dion approached the table.

“Dion,” I whispered, wrapping my hand around his forearm.

He didn’t look at me and delicately shifted me so I was behind him, his arm protectively curling me against his side.

“Come on, bro, you know I wouldn’t go after your girl.” Apollo held his hands up like this was a stickup.

Dion’s horns started to poke through his skull, the claws edging from his fingertips. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Dion, come on, man, that was hundreds of years ago. We’ve both changed.” Apollo gestured between them and then jutted his thumb at Dion’s now fully exposed horns. “For example, when’s the last time you showed those in public?”

Dion grimaced and shook his head like he couldn’t decide between Dion or the beast. “You keep this strictly about business and keep your hands off her.”

Frowning, I tugged Dion’s arm, urging him to look at me. “Hey, he was only trying to comfort me. That was all.”

Dion snapped his attention to me, poking a finger against his chest, his nostrils flaring, taking in my scent. “ I should be the one comforting you, Chels.”

His sudden possessiveness flattered me as much as it made me somewhat uneasy.

“You’re making this a lot easier. Do you realize that?” I started to shove my laptop and belongings into my bags.

Apollo sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Making what easier?” Dion’s expression fell, the horns and claws slowly disappearing.

My sinuses stung, but I gulped back threatening tears. “To stay away from you.”

“Chels, please.” Dion reached for me but made no move to grab or physically stop me. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Hoisting my briefcase strap to my shoulder, I turned on my heel to level my eyes on him. “Yeah? We, as in me and Dion, or me and the beast?”

Dion’s jaw clenched, along with his hands at his sides. “Both.”

My stomach twisted at this, my curiosity almost getting the better of me. My magic had driven him to the point of nearly attacking his brother over me for holding my hand . This had to stop.

“Well, it’s not going to be tonight, Dion.” I flicked my nail over the cracked leather of my purse strap. “Not tonight.”

A disappointed, heart-wrenching frown coursed over Dion’s features. The sight of it almost fucking broke me. Turning away, I headed for the exit and didn’t look back even when my heels met with the gravel of the parking lot.