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CHAPTER 1
“I can’t believe I need another new bartender.” I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on the desk. Luke had left the bar for a good reason, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. And his replacement—Shawn, a vampire—hadn’t risen to the chal enge. I’d fired him after two weeks of inept bartending and questionable customer service. When I caught him trying to put the fang on a couple of my regulars, I lost it and kicked him out. Nobody messed with my regulars, especial y in my bar.
But that left a void. The Wayfarer was busy, like every other place during the holiday season, and we needed every hand on board. We’d started early with an Otherworld Thanksgiving feast from the gril , and then that weekend I’d put up a fake tree in the corner and handed out bonuses so that my employees could shop. Now, nearing the end of the first week of December, the main focus of Winter Solstice was stil ahead of us—and Christmas for my clients who celebrated it—
and the parties were getting more frantic and raucous every night as people crowded in, exhausted from shopping and coping with holiday chaos.
Nerissa gave me the what-can-you-do gesture with her hands, tossing them up in the air. “What can I say, dol ? I’m sorry, but that’s the way things go.” Standing behind me, she leaned down and slowly trailed a line of kisses down my cheek to my neck. “I’d work for you, if I didn’t have the day job.”
“You’d make such an awesome bartender, and then I could yank you back here in my office to make love whenever we felt like it.”
“We’d never get anything done,” she countered.
I laughed, then shrugged. “I know, I know—hiring people is part of owning a bar, but it fucking sucks.”
I tipped my head back and she caught me ful on the mouth. I savored my golden goddess’s lips as she set off a ricochet of desire that shockwaved through my body. Al I could think about was how much I wanted her. Here. Now. As I reached for her breast, my fingers sliding over the rounded curves of her body, a knock on the door interrupted us.
“Bad timing.” I glanced up at her rueful y. “Rain check?”
“Always.” She reluctantly stepped back to sit in the chair next to my desk.
A werepuma, Nerissa was a warped Aphrodite, but she was also extremely diplomatic about knowing when I needed to present a professional appearance. She sat primly in the chair, her skirt suit and tawny chignon making her look like a librarian waiting to bust out and go wild. Everybody knew we were together, but it wouldn’t do for the boss to be sucking face when the help checked in.
“Come in.” I waited as Chrysandra opened the door and peeked her head in. “What’s up?”
She glanced at Nerissa, then at me, and grinned. “Sorry to interrupt, boss, but I’ve got someone out here looking for a job. I’m not sure, but you might want to talk to him.”
“Supe?” I had instituted a policy of only hiring members of the Supernatural Community. The Wayfarer attracted far too many potential problems for me to take a chance on any more ful -
blooded humans. Chrysandra had gotten the hang of working around Supes of al kinds, but for a bartender, I needed someone who could also act as bouncer when I wasn’t around.
Pieder, the giant, did a good job, but he worked days, and I was hiring for the night shift. I probably should hire a second bouncer while I was at it, but since I worked a majority of evenings in the bar, I usual y covered the void. Smart people didn’t mess with vampires, and most of my regulars had quickly learned not to cross me.
She nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not sure what kind. He has an odd feel.” The look on her face told me that either he made her nervous or he was just so strange that she didn’t know what to make of him. Chrysandra was, I had discovered, fairly psychic for an FBH—ful -blooded human—and she picked up on things easily.
“Send him in.” I turned to Nerissa. “Sweetie, you mind giving me a little privacy to interview him?”
“No problem. You sure you want to talk to him alone, girl?” She stroked my cheek with her fingers. “I can stay.”
“I can tear apart ninety percent of the creatures I meet if they bother me. Don’t forget that I’m a vampire, sweet-heart. Never, ever forget it.” I took her hand, holding it for a moment. I loved her dearly, and because of that, I never wanted her to forget I was a dangerous predator. It was my nature and I accepted it and at times—reveled in it.
“I never do,” she whispered softly, then fol owed Chrysandra out of the room, her skirt swishing in a way that drove me crazy. I wanted to slip my hands under the hem, to run them up her golden thighs. For so long, after Dredge had gotten through with me, I’d repressed my sexuality, but Nerissa had woken it up, ful steam ahead, and there was no putting the djinn back in the bottle.
I put my feet on the floor and straightened the papers on my desk. Inventory time was heading ful throttle toward us; we were coming up on the end of the year, and I needed to do a ful accounting of everything in the bar.
I also was preparing to open the Wayfarer to overnight travelers. We’d cleaned out the rooms upstairs, redecorated and sanded and painted, and now I had space for seven guests, with three communal bathrooms.
But opening to overnight guests meant hiring a maid. I’d also have to find someone to run room service, carry bags, and, in general, take care of the needs of our Otherworld patrons. For the most part, that was who I expected to see. I already had decided that I wouldn’t rent to goblins, ogres, or anybody likely to cause trouble.
Since the Wayfarer technical y belonged to an OW resident—me—it was considered sovereign territory. I could discriminate for whatever reason I wanted. And letting creeps and miscreants stay in the bar wasn’t my idea of equal opportunity. Especial y not when my sisters and I were waging a demonic war.
The door opened, and a man cleared the archway. As I glanced at him, looking him up and down, I found myself suitably impressed. I had no doubt the man could chuck people out of the bar.
Brawn, he had. That much was clear. He only stood five eight, but his biceps were works of art, and his thighs looked strong enough to crack a skul . His hair, jet black with a white streak, was held back in a thick ponytail, hitting about midshoulder. It set off eyes as green as my sister Delilah’s. He looked to be around his midthirties, but if he was Supe, who knew how old he real y was?
And that was the second thing: Supe, he was. I could tel right off that he wasn’t human. This dude had some seriously powerful energy rol ing off him. Even I, about as headblind as you could get for someone half-Fae, could feel it.
“How do you do? I’m Menol y D’Artigo. And you are . . .?” I stood and walked around the desk.
