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“That’s cool,” I said, nodding a bit.
When I glanced at Axel, I saw him glaring at his buddies across the fire, and my face heated further.
Somehow, this was going even worse than I expected.
“So what do demons do?” Enzo asked.
Damn.
Nope, I didn’t really like that question.
“Mostly, we run bars and nightclubs. Sometimes, coffee shops or smoothie bars,” I explained quickly. “We have flames, in here.” I tapped the center of my chest. “And they’re just flames, until we combine them with food or drinks. The magic wears off too quickly in food, so mostly, we do things involving drinks.”
A few of the men looked a little interested by that explanation, at least.
Interested was good.
Better than awkwardly ignoring me, at least.
“If you can’t send people to hell, then why are you called demons?” Finn countered.
“Why are you called werewolves instead of wolf-shifters?” I shot back. “Word of mouth. Media. No one really knows. We’ve gone by a lot of names, but demons stuck. Probably because a strong hit of our magic comes with a gnarly hangover.”
I could attest to that.
Lucas whispered something to Kai, and Kai shot me a dirty look. He plucked the now-burnt marshmallow off the roasting stick, then handed it to his kid, still glowering at me.
“What?” I asked, growing a bit defensive.
He didn’t respond to me, but murmured something quietly to his son. Lucas nodded, and both of them walked to their trailer. The door shut hard behind them, and frustration welled up inside my chest.
Axel’s hand stroked my hip through the high-waisted leggings I had on. Maybe it was supposed to relax me, but it didn’t.
“So you could’ve worked at a coffee shop, but you picked a bar?” Finn drawled.
My defenses rose higher. “The bartender offered me a job within the first five minutes I was there. I need a way to make money, and bartending comes with large tips. Coffee shops and smoothie bars don’t.”
He smirked. “I’m sure all of the single men showing up to try your drinks was a damn good motivator, though.”
Axel’s grip on my hip tightened painfully.
“I couldn’t care less about that,” I retorted.
Finn chuckled. “Sure you don’t, Sweetheart.”
The conversation shifted quickly.
I tried to play nice. Tried not to get offended when they ignored me—and the glare Axel was shooting them.
Until Finn brought up my bartender job again, drawling about all the men hitting on me.
Enough.
That was enough.
I was done sitting on my ass, on Axel’s damnknee, while the pack of assholes insulted me—or let one of their buddies insult me.
“Must be fun to watch every single guy in town drool over you,” Finn drawled.
