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Starla, one of our club’shóras,has her long, curly brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail as she expertly begins making holiday-themed drinks. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, but it only adds to the wild energy of the party.
No one offers to help put the bottles of liquor and beer away, so I make my way behind the bar and begin putting them away while she’s making drinks.
Starla turns her head. “Thank you for helping.” She sounds tired but ever so appreciative.
I give her a small nod. “Of course. I’m not a drunken ass.” I roll my eyes, proceeding to put bottles of liquor on the shelf.
She lets out a light laugh at my comment. “Yet.”
Confused, I turn to face her. “Sorry?”
She raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not a drunken ass yet. Give it a few beers, and you’ll be as toasted as the rest of them.”
I can’t help but laugh at her teasing tone. She’s always been able to make me smile. It’s why we’ve had such a good past. Starla was never a girlfriend of mine or anything. She’s ahóra, so I’ve slept with her a few times. That’s all it was. It never amounted to anything. I haven’t slept with Starla in a while, ever since Rayna showed up here.
Rayna, with her long, straight red hair and piercing sea-green eyes, is Dag’s little sister. Not only is she blessed with a banging body, but she’s smart as shit. She’s the type of person who would give you the shirt off her back without any hesitation.
She and her mother came to the club at the end of July, escaping from her psychotic ex-stepfather, who tried to kill them both. He was in prison for many years, and while he made horrible choices that put him there, he blames Rayna, Dag, and their mother. He’s delusional, and he’ll never stop blaming them. It’s why we need to deal with him sooner rather than later.
I continue helping Starla put away the bottles and cans until she’s unpacking the last box. “You don’t have to keep helping me, Magnus. I’m okay,” she assures me.
“I know you are, but let me help. You’re the designated bartender tonight. It’s the least I can do.”
“Fine, I’ll take your help then,” she comments as she grabs two bottles of vodka and puts them on a shelf against the wall.
The bar area is so organized and well-stocked. If it wasn’t for Starla, it wouldn’t look like this at all. She might be ahóra, but as of late, she’s pretty much become an expert bartender.
Whenever we start discussing who’s going to work at Bubba’s, I’m going to suggest Starla as the operating manager. If she keeps the club’s bar this tidy, she’d do amazing at a real bar.
Once I’m finished helping Starla, she makes me one of her fancy holiday drinks. It’s an over-the-top concoction, much fruitier than I’m used to. I take a sip, and hints of vanilla and passionfruit overtake my tastebuds, and at the last second, the carbonation hits me. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Starla smiles, drinking one alongside me. The two of us chat, not about anything too specific, but we have a good time. Before we know it, a couple of hours pass us by.
The alcohol courses through my veins, warming me from the inside out. The music changes to some overplayed pop bullshit, and a few of the guys make their feelings known, booing. As if they all planned this, the women walk out onto the dance floor, dancing to the beat of the music.
My eyes focus on one woman in particular—Rayna.
She stands out from the crowd in a pair of skin-tight jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt just as form-fitting, showing off her ample assets from her thick ass to her hourglass figure. Even in a sea of beautiful women, she outshines them all.
I lean against the bar, transfixed by Rayna’s sultry movements on the dance floor. Every twist and turn of her body sends a jolt of electricity through my veins. The way she moves is like poetry in motion, seducing everyone in the room with her grace and sensuality.
Her vibrant red hair sways with each step, cascading down her back like a fiery waterfall. Her sea-green eyes glisten with mischief and desire, reflecting the pulsating lights on the dance floor. As she dances, her body seems to merge with the rhythm, becoming one with the music that envelops us all.
I notice I’m not the only one watching her. Tor, Regnor, and Geirolf all have their eyes on her. Young bucks with too much energy. They don’t know what the fuck to do with it, but I’ll tell you one thing they won’t be doing: getting within an inch of Rayna.
Rayna is a force to be reckoned with, her confidence radiating off her like a magnetic field. She draws everyone toward her like moths to a flame. Regnor begins to walk to the dance floor, and Rayna notices him. He’s quickly met with a dismissive flick of her wrist like she’s shooing away a fly from her food.
I take another sip of my drink, my gaze never leaving Rayna’s mesmerizing form. I’ve paid close attention to her ever since she arrived here at the club, seeking refuge from the horrors of the past. She had walked into our lives battered, scared, and uncertain of her future.
Today, I don’t think she feels any of that. I think she has a sense of confidence and purpose again, even if her ex-stepfather is still on the run. She isn’t living in fear anymore.
“Are you gonna keep staring at her like that all night?” Starla elbows me in the side.
“I might.”
“If you do, you’re a fool. Someone is going to scoop her up.”
“No, they’re not.” No one would dare go near her. My brothers know where I stand with her. They know I’m going to make her mine.
