“We need another round of Heartbeats,” I tell him and he sighs, like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever met in his life. So thinks the man who hasn’t figured out that ogre girls hate the size of his dick after years of disappointed looks.
I push Vyce’s Three Wishes card across the counter and rejoin the guys at a table in the center. Harry might not like what I’m doing, but I know he enjoys turning a profit; he’ll bring us our drinks.
“You guys really want to train me, huh?” I ask and Vyce lets this wicked little smile curve across his face.
“Why not? It’s always fun to have a capable student around.” He traces a symbol on the tabletop in an absentminded sort of way. The movement draws my attention. I like the way he keeps his nails long and slightly sharp at the tip.
Wolfe draws my attention a split-second later by removing his jacket and showing off two full sleeves of ink. I notice demons and werewolves, the face of Dracula, an angel with a sword. Holy hell. I could spend hours tracing all those lines, discovering all the hidden little gems in the work.
“We have other sorts of things we could teach you,” Sorrow says, ruffling up his blond and red hair and giving me a dark look, one that promises naughty things under the covers.
“If you’re referring to sexual intercourse,” I say with a smug little smile, “then I highly doubt you could teach me a damn thing. I know all sorts of fun stuff. Besides, have you ever used a fox tail butt plug? I don’t think so.”
“Oh?” Sorrow asks, leaning across the table and pausing when Miri comes over with our drinks. Her cheeks are all pink and she’s got this hop to her step that I well recognize. “That’s one of those kinky ones with the fur on the end? Makes it look like you’ve got a tail and all that? I’ve seen horse ones, but never a fox.”
“So you see?” I say, pulling my drink over and taking a massive sip. Right away, I feel that euphoria sweep over me, clouding my head and mixing with the happy sex pheromones in my blood. “I’m at master level when it comes to bedroom tricks. Although I won’t say no if y’all want to impart some magical wisdom my way. Nobody does magic like a Stiltz.”
“Have you ever seen one of these?” Sorrow asks, sitting forward and flashing me a fluffy red tail from the back of his pants. His demon tail. That’s seriously effing hawt. Again, misspelled it’s that sexy.
“I can safely say that I have not,” I agree, grinning back when he gives me a wide smile. The speakers in the corners of the room give a rough cough before some old ass rock music starts leaking out. Harry has weird taste, I’ll admit. It’s supposed to be dance night down here at The Dragonfly, but who dances to the Rolling Stones anymore?
“You want to hit the floor?” Sorrow asks anyway, sipping down the rest of his drink and gesturing loosely with his thumb. I take him up on the offer, grabbing another sip of my own Heartbeat before grabbing his hand and snatching a space on the crowded dance floor. There aren’t a lot of places in town for supernaturals to mix, and this is the safest one by far. The Dragonfly always draws a crowd on dance night.
Sorrow spins me around in the most ridiculous way, making me chuckle before he’s quite rudely pushed out of the way by Wolfe. Vyce just watches us in that careful, calculating way of his, but I never forget that he’s looking.
“I didn’t peg you for a dancer,” I admit as Wolfe leads us in some semblance of actual dancing. Whereas Sorrow was just dicking around, this guy knows exactly what he’s doing.
Of course, all I get is a rough grunt in return.
“Who turns a three-year-old anyway?” I ask after a while, my arms around Wolfe’s neck, his thundercloud gray eyes staring into my own mismatched ones.
“A monster,” is the only response I get to that question. But there’s a sadness there I can’t resist, a pull that draws me forward. I end up with my cheek pressed to Wolfe’s chest, eyes closed, listening to his heart thunder behind his ribs as the song “Paint it Black” begins to play.
His hands start at my waist like a proper gentleman, but I push them down until he’s cupping my ass, and the euphoria from our drinks has really settled in. It’s a good excuse for us, considering how much we butt heads. If we’re drunk then, you know, it’s not really our fault if something naughty happens …
I can feel my nipples pebbling, my sex clenching with heat. And I’ll give you a hint: it’s not just because of the alcohol and the blood mixed into it. It’s just this guy. He’s big and tall, and his tattoos are killer, and he kind of…I don’t know, smells nice?
We stay that way for a good half-dozen songs before Wolfe takes my hand and pulls me out of the bar and away from the other guys, into a sudden rainstorm. We barely get half a block away before he’s pushing me into an alcove of a closed shop and slamming his palms on either side of my head. Our lips hover close for several long, agonizing seconds before he finally kisses me.
And mother of god, it’s a beautiful kiss.
An Old Hollywood kiss.
I don’t even know what to make of it,
My hands curl into the front of his sleeveless shirt, yanking him closer with a sudden need that I want filled right here, right now.
But we hardly make it to second base.
Someone clears their throat behind Wolfe and chills take over every inch of my body. He pulls away slightly and looks back at a man with long, dark hair and a cruel smile.
I know right away who that is.
“Rumpel,” Wolfe acknowledges as I cringe back into the alcove and pray he doesn’t get too close a look at me.
“Wolfe,” the other man says, his eyes flicking briefly to me and away again. “I see you’re taking this contract very seriously?” Just the sound of that man’s voice makes me want to scream, but I hold it together. Barely. Just barely.
“Yes, sir,” Wolfe growls out, and Rumpel nods, his eyes, this terrifyingly bright yellow color, landing on my face before he pulls them away again.
“Good work,” he adds with a leer that makes my skin crawl. He pats Wolfe on the shoulder and heads into The Dragonfly while both Wolfe and I stand there panting. I sort of had the idea that Rumpel was like a father figure to the Stiltz kin. But after seeing that very brief interaction, I’m not so sure.
A few moments later, Vyce and Sorrow come out of the bar and pause next to us. I was quite looking forward to a quickie in the small little alcove, but now I just want to get the hell out of here.
“Since we have a few other tasks to complete…” I say with a shrug. “That is to say, sex, why don’t we head back to House Verenim?” What can I say? I’m not a shy chick. Never have been, never will be. And the idea that Rumpel’s in Harry’s bar makes me feel sick. I just want to get as far away from here as I can before he figures out who I really am.
None of the guys argue—not much of a surprise there—and follow me back, using the same magic as before to climb the massive walls of House Verenim and sneak into the window of my temporary bedroom. I wonder if I’ll be expected to share a room with the king himself after the coronation? If this really will be my room? Who knows?
“Welcome to my not-so-humble abode,” I tell Sorrow as he enters the room with a whistle and takes a look around. Of course, he immediately zones in on the collection of silk and lace nightgowns.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” he says, peering through the clothing and then coming up with a red silk nightie. “Any chance I can get you into this?” he asks as I cross my arms and give him a look. The whole time I’m glaring at him though, I’m counting in my head how long it’s going to take him to notice that I left my clothes from last night on the floor. I don’t get maid service in here yet. Nobody’s allowed in or out until after the coronation.
Well, nobody but the three guys sent here to have sex with me. Just them.
“There’s no maid service,” I explain as Sorrow picks up my clothes and shoves the tank into the hamper and then hangs the leather pants back up in the wardrobe.