Fucking.
Fine.
“Hi, my name is Bloom Sharpe, and I’m a vampire. I still drink my weight in sugary milk with a dash of coffee in it every day, love cozy sweaters, and have hard candies in all of my bags like your typical grandma,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“I guess we know why you can keep such a nice figure while drinking so damn many lattes,” Phyllis muttered. She was the most anal middle-aged woman I’d ever met, with dark brown eyes, light skin, and naturally red hair that was streaked with gray.
And with that compliment, she was my new favorite.
“Your red eyes are striking,” Carter offered.
He could be my second favorite, becausestrikingwas only kind of a compliment.
“Thanks. Anyway, the werewolves told me I could either help them make Darkwood Investment compliant, or stay locked up in their tower, so here I am. We all know how much of a mess the paperwork is, so this is going to be a shitshow, but it is what it is. I plan on telling the wolves that all of you are going to need raises, and that we’ll need more hands, because this is a hell of a lot more than a ten-person job.”
Most of them sat up straighter.
When money came into play, everyone paid more attention.
We spent the next two hours making a detailed plan. By the time everyone had their assignments and the meeting ended, my head hurt, and I was itching for my second latte.
I went straight from the meeting room to my favorite part of the office—the large, fancy coffee bar on the side of the open desk area.
I was making my usual latte at the coffee bar and trying like hell to ignore all of the eyes on me when Carter came strolling up.
He grabbed a cup and filled it with black coffee from the drip machine. “That went better than I expected.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “How did you expect it to go?”
He chuckled. “I thought someone might piss themself.”
“I should probably be offended that they didn’t. I’m quite terrifying.” I added two pumps of vanilla syrup to my drink, like always.
“Having the Alpha around for the past week must’ve numbed them to your brand of intimidation. He’s scarier than you.”
“I guess.” I stirred my latte. “You’re not nervous?”
“Nah. I’ve got bigger problems than the most beautiful woman in the office turning out to be a vampire.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed, talking like that.” I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was nearby.
They weren’t, thankfully.
Carter gave me a small, wry grin. “I can’t imagine he’ll kill me for stating a fact.”
“Then your imagination isn’t very good.”
His grin widened.
“What’s going on? Is it your sister?” We’d been friends for long enough that I felt comfortable asking, and he barely seemed fazed by my vampirism. The week he’d had to wrap his mind around it probably helped.
His sister had been battling cancer for a few months now, and as most people would, he’d been struggling with it.
He lifted his mug to his lips, turning around so he was leaning against the cabinets as he sipped his coffee without any sugar or creamer.
Bitter dirt. He was drinking bitter dirt.
I tasted my latte and nearly gagged.
