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His scent hit me as I slipped between the stools to stand at the counter. It was earthier than I would’ve guessed. I associated musk and sandalwood with werewolves. There was also a hint of pine, which offset the musk. Maybe the crowd had rubbed off on him, except the current clientele favored supernaturals with more fangs than fur.
“I’m looking for Kane Sullivan,” I said.
Whisky-colored eyes examined me with interest. “Congratulations, Ms. Clay. Your journey has reached an end.” He extended a hand across the counter. When I didn’t take it, he slipped it in his pocket. His movements were elegant, refined. Now that I was directly in front of him, I felt ridiculous for thinking he was the bartender; he radiated power.
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
Despite his angelic appearance, there was something decidedlynotinnocent about him. It was his full mouth, the way his lips curved ever so slightly, hinting at all that his mouth was capable of. He promised you both mind-blowing sex and a cooked breakfast afterward.
“No one will overhear us if that’s your preference,” he said. His voice matched his eyes, whisky smooth.
I smiled. “There are about twenty vampires behind me that would beg to differ.”
He waved his hand and silence engulfed us. It was as though we were insects and he’d overturned a glass to cover us in a protective bubble.
He leaned forward provocatively. “Do go on, Ms. Clay.”
“You’re a demon.”
“You were expecting something else?”
I hadn’t given it much thought until now. “I need you to keep your assassins off my lawn.”
The invisible dome shook with his laughter. “That’s one I haven’t heard before. What happened? A skirmish between them? They have a tendency to fight and make up within a matter of minutes. It’s the temperament, I think. They’re a feisty bunch.”
He talked about the assassins like they were children on a playground. “One of them was threatening a human on my property.”
“And what property is that?”
“Bluebeard’s Castle. Technically, the cemetery next to it.”
His expression remained unchanged. “You must like a project if you’re willing to tackle that one. You might have an easier time trying to change a man.”
The joke caught me off guard, and I snorted inelegantly. “Are you volunteering?”
He made a face. “I said a man, Ms. Clay. Demons are quite a different species.”
I didn’t disagree.
“I’ll have a word with the guild about minding boundaries.” He wiped his hands on his vest. “Where are my manners? Here you are in the finest cocktail lounge in the region, and I’ve yet to offer you a drink.”
“What do you recommend?”
“I mix a fabulous old-fashioned.”
Of course he did.
“No, wait. Let me think.” His gaze raked over me, pausing to linger on the swell of my breasts beneath the thin fabric of the tank top. “I’m afraid I don’t serve craft beer, but I can offer you a gin and tonic.”
I felt vaguely insulted. “Seltzer water with lime is fine.”
“As you wish.”
Music flooded my ears as the invisible dome dissipated. He filled a glass with seltzer water and affixed the wedge of lime to the edge of the glass.
He slid the glass across the counter to me. “Now it’s my turn.”
“For what?”
