“Fine. Let’s do something with a kick, but nothing boring or predictable. That rules out whisky, vodka, and tequila. I’m not a huge fan of bubbles either, and I don’t like anything too milky. Sweet’s good, but nottoosweet, and a little fruit is fine, but nothingsuperfruity, unless it’s—”
“Sorry I asked.” Without waiting for me to finish, he wiped his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder, selected a martini glass from the rack overhead, and turned toward the multi-colored bottles lined up behind him.
Before I could offer any more helpful pointers, a wave of vertigo hit, alerting me to the presence of a vampire. One getting way too close and personal.
“Did it hurt?” A husky voice breathed in my ear.
I turned to meet his gaze, resting bitch face locked and loaded. “Excuse me?”
“When you fell from Heaven?” He spread his arms and grinned as if I might find the whole package so charming I’d leap into his embrace, wrap my thighs around him, and ride him all the way home.
“Not as much as it did when they cut off my horns and tail,” I said. “Anyway, I’m all set here, so… Have a good night.”
“Can I at least buy you a drink, beautiful?”
“No, thank you. I’m not interested.”
His face fell, then twisted into a scowl. “You don’t have to be such a bitch.”
“Actually, I do. Because otherwise bloodsuckers like you assume a smile or a kind word is a full-on invitation to Pussytown, and I promise you, friend.That’san exclusive ticket.”
“Check the guest list again.” He reached over and touched my hair, bringing a lock to his lips before dropping his hand to my thigh and giving it a possessive squeeze. “Pretty sure I’m on it.”
Pretty sure you’re going to regret touching me, but ooh-kay…
“Well, since you’re so persistent,” I cooed, “maybe Ishouldcheck.” With a faux-seductive smile, I slid my fingers into the top of my boot, seeking that cold, comforting piece of wood I never left home without.
One minute, the hawthorn stake was minding its own business in the boot holster. The next, it was jammed into the back of the fucker’s hand.
Such was the beauty of my sharp and pointy friend.
He jerked back with a howl, the hawthorn poison already paralyzing his fingers. I yanked the stake free, spun it in my palm, and shoved it against his crotch, stopping just short of inflicting a more serious injury.
“Touch me again, bloodsucker,” I hissed, “and your hand won’t be the only thing going limp.”
“Go… go fuck yourself, bitch.”
“I’d return the sentiment, but I’m pretty sure that hand won’t be up for the job any time soon.” I laughed. “Get it? Hand? Job?”
He bared his fangs, then stumbled away like a wounded, dejected bird.
“First drink is on me,” the bartender said. “That was the best thing I’ve seen in months.”
I reached forward and yanked the towel off his shoulder, then wiped the blood from my stake. “Thanks for the assist, demon.”
“You had it handled. Be grateful I don’t toss your ass out for smuggling in that stake.”
“This teeny tiny little thing?” I finished cleaning it off, then slipped it back into the holster. “It’s not like it was going to kill him.”
Wooden stakes could poison the fuckers—hawthorn was especially good at interfering with their healing abilities, and a well-placed stake to the chest would knock them out for hours—but still, that was just a temporary fix. Killing vampires required decapitation or burning, and I wasn’t about to ruin my new outfit with allthatmess.
“In any case, best not to draw too much attention.” The bartender set down the martini glass, now brimming with pale amber liquid. A single mint leaf floated on top.
“What is it?”
The barest hint of a smile quirked his lips. “It’s called a Fallen Angel.”
It was the smile that saved him.Asshole.
