Page 67 of A Trial By Blood

A female strode over to us, her eyes were bright gold, and when she stopped in front of us they changed for a split second, her pupils elongating, definitely feline. “The Vault’s only a few blocks away. I’m sure they’ll have what you want there,” she said and sniffed, giving us an up and down.

“Pardon?”

“We don’t cater to blood drinkers in here, honey. You want to feed, take it to The Vault.”

The Vault?

“We don’t require blood,” Ronan said. “But we would like a menu.”

She narrowed her eyes, looked between us, then leaned in. “Fine, but any trouble and my boys will throw you out.” She aimed her thumb over her shoulder.

Standing at the bar was a well-built male, and another sat on a stool opposite. Her boys were angled our way, watching the exchange closely, ready to jump up and throw us out if necessary and, judging by the scowls on their faces, hoping we’d give them reason to.

“We just want to eat,” I said, feeling weird about the whole exchange.

“Fine, sit over there.” She waved toward a booth against the wall.

Ronan was still looking at “the boys,” and he didn’t look happy. “Ignore them,” I said and tugged on his arm.

He growled something under his breath. Then, ushering me into the booth first, he sat, blocking me in, so we were facing the big cat shifters across the room. He obviously didn’t want his back toward them.

The female strode over and dumped a couple menus on the table. “Drink?”

I didn’t want anything, honestly. Ronan’s blood had given me everything I needed. But I was here for a reason, so I smiled up at her. “Soda, please.”

“What kind of soda?”

I had no idea. I hadn’t had a soda since I was young. I hadn’t been able to tolerate it. “Um…Coke,” I said and smiled at her.

She scowled harder. “You?” she said to Ronan.

“No drink for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back for your order in a few minutes.” Then she walked off.

“Does that kind of thing happen often?” I asked him. “The blood drinkers comment? They don’t want us here.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.” His thigh pressed against mine. “Blood drinkers make people uneasy. Understandable since to some of us, they would be considered food.”

I leaned into him a little, not sure how I felt about that, about people being scared of me. “I guess that is understandable.” Shaking that off, I scanned the room, looking for anything that stood out, any reason that could’ve brought me here. There was a big picture behind the bar. A photo, blown up, of the bar itself—our antagonistic waitress stood in the middle, and four large, burly males were on either side of her. One who looked older than her, her mate, I assumed, and three younger, their sons, I was also guessing. Two of which were our unhappy friends at the bar.

“That looks reasonably new,” Ronan said, taking in the picture as well.

“They must’ve recently bought the place.”

The female marched back to us and plonked down my drink, then stood there, pen poised, waiting for our order. I quickly flicked open the menu. I really wasn’t hungry. “I’ll have the chocolate cake, please.”

She scowled. “That’s it?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“And you?” she said to Ronan.

“Nothing for me.”

She shook her head in disgust and stomped off.

“She really doesn’t like us.”