Amani had made the same assessment. He didn't say so. There was no point in confirming what his mother already knew. She'd only use it as evidence that he should be doing more with his life than bartending.
"Walk home with one of the security team tonight," she said.
"Mom?" It was an unusual request, that sounded more like an order.
"One of my contacts heard chatter this week. Some of the sharks from the Playground are freelancing again, and they're not happy about the people who helped shut them down." She took a sip of her martini. "We're on that list, Amani."
Amani set down the bottle he was restocking and looked at her. She was doing the thing where her face was perfectly composed but her fingers were tight on the stem of her glass. Worried. Trying not to show it. "I'm a lion. It's four blocks. I've done it a thousand times."
"And I'd like you to do it a thousand more. Take Marco with you."
"Marco is a gorilla who breathes loud enough to wake up the entire warehouse district. I'm not walking home with a gorilla, Mom. I'll be fine."
Lady Leo held his gaze for a moment longer than was comfortable, the lioness stare that made grown men confess to things they hadn't done, then took a sip of her martini and let it go.
"Text me when you're home."
"Always do."
She touched his cheek once, quick and light, then turned back to the floor. He watched her go, the straight back, the measured stride, the way every person in the room tracked her movement without quite realizing they were doing it, and felt thesame complicated mix of love and exasperation he always felt around his mother.
She worried. He got it. The Playground thing had rattled her more than she'd admit. Knowing that a place like that had existed in her city, in her world, under her nose, it offended her on a level that went deeper than business. Lady Leo believed that shifter spaces should be safe. She'd built KK on that belief. The Playground was proof that not everyone shared it.
But that was over there. And Amani was over here, behind his bar, in his club, in his tiny shorts, making drinks for people he knew and watching over people he didn't. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Around two, a Dom he barely recognized came to the bar and ordered a whiskey neat. He was big, wolf or dog of some kind, broad-shouldered, with hands that looked like they knew their way around a flogger. He drank his whiskey in two swallows, set the glass down, and looked at Amani with a directness that meant he was about to make an offer.
"You're Lady Leo's boy."
"I'm Amani. Lady Leo's son." He emphasized the correction lightly. He wasn't anyone's boy. Not yet, anyway, and not to a stranger at a bar.
The wolf smiled. It wasn't a bad smile. He was attractive enough, and Amani could tell he was experienced, which was more than he could say for most of the men who hit on him over the bar top. "Amani. I've heard about you. They say you're particular."
"They say a lot of things." Amani refilled his whiskey without being asked. "I'm particular about what I like. That's not a character flaw, kitten, it's a preference."
"And what do you prefer?"
Amani set the bottle down and gave the wolf his full attention. Shoulders back, chin up, the posture his mother haddrilled into him since he could stand.You are a lion. Stand like one."Predators. Big ones. Cats, bears, wolves if they're impressive enough." He let his gaze travel over the Dom with deliberate slowness. "You're not bad. But you're new here, and I don't play with people I don't know."
The wolf leaned in. "I could become someone you know."
"You could. Come back next Friday. Sit at the bar. Let me watch you play with someone else first. I'll learn more about you in an hour of watching than I would in a month of talking." He slid the whiskey forward. "That one's on me, too. I'm generous with people who respect the process."
The wolf took the glass with a look that was half impressed and half frustrated, exactly the combination Amani was going for. He watched the man walk back to the floor, felt the familiar thrill of having controlled an interaction completely, and went back to wiping down the bar.
He was good at this. The flirting, the reading, the push and pull of offering just enough to keep them interested without giving up any ground. He'd been doing it since he was old enough to understand that his smile was a weapon and his body was a negotiation tool and that a smart sub controlled the room just as much as any Dom. They just did it from behind a bar instead of in front of a cross.
It was a kind of fearlessness, he supposed. The certainty that he could handle anything that walked through those elevator doors, that his instincts would always be sharp enough, his tongue always quick enough, his world always safe enough. He'd grown up in the club. He'd learned to mix drinks at fourteen and started working the bar at sixteen, before human legal, and by twenty he knew more about the dynamics of power exchange than men three times his age. Nothing surprised him anymore.
Sero's phone buzzed. He checked it, pocketed it, and lifted his empty glass toward Amani. "Trevor's out front."
"Tell him I said he still can't play here."
"He knows." Sero slid off the stool and set a folded bill under his glass. He always tipped too much, which Amani had stopped arguing about months ago. "See you next week."
"Get home safe, kitten."
Sero paused. Turned back. He looked at Amani for a beat longer than usual, the bat's dark eyes sharp and unreadable. "You too, Amani."
