Page 1 of Taken By The Vampire King

Chapter 1

Leia

The light above me flickered and I glanced toward the ceiling, squinting at it like I could diagnose the issue from a mere irritated gaze and willpower alone. But we were lucky the lights were still on at all, with the stack of red bills clamoring for my attention on my desk, and I sighed as I leaned over the table to swipe my rag over the worn wood.

“Quiet tonight, cher.” Harry Allard’s soft voice broke the silence, and I stiffened, pausing my movement for just a fraction of a moment.

I shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Guess that’s what I get for having ancestors who missed the memo on the direction Baton Rouge would expand in.” We weren’t exactly on the tourist trail of town, and The Pour House stayed quiet more nights than not. Passing trade had all but been reduced to an army of frogs and too many mosquitoes.

Pierre, Harry’s brother, chuckled. “The chicken wings were good tonight, though.” He patted his slightly rounded belly, a smile of contentment softening his craggy features.

Pierre wore his ex-police years in the lines and wrinkles of his face like a badge of honor, but he was soft when it came to me—both brothers were, the uncles I’d never had—and Pierre probably contributed the majority of my profits on nights when I served wings.

I nodded, already automatically doing the mental calculations to work out when those would be on the menu again. Takings had probably been good enough to allow more food to be on offer tomorrow. It was always a tussle over paying a bill and trying to earn more money. Speculating to accumulate… But the only thing I fucking seemed to accumulate was more of Dad’s gambling debt.

“One day,” I said, “life will be better, and I’ll have the money to pay all the bills when they need paying, right?” I grinned in the direction of the brothers, their once blond hair now shining more gray under my dim lights.

They were my most loyal regular customers. Always in the same corner like a pair of personal bodyguards. That they were both ex-police definitely helped keep trouble away from my place, too. Their tattoos were as intimidating as their quiet presence for the wrong people, that was for sure.

Well, maybe they couldn’t keep the kind of trouble that answered to the name of Dad at bay, but not many others tried anything.

Harry nodded. “Hope so, cher.” He cleared his throat and shifted in the booth, his bulky frame not quite as much muscle now as it must have been in his youth. “How are things going with…all that?”

He gestured rather than get specific with his words, which gave me the option to not really answer his question, but what the hell? Avoiding the answer didn’t make my problems with cashflow any less real.

Things weren’t good, and both Harry and Pierre already knew that.

“The same. I’m surrounded by threats of foreclosure and demands for money, and I don’t see any of that changing soon.” I hesitated as I grabbed a pair of dirty glasses from the end of the bar. “Well, I guess until I’m not surrounded by foreclosure letters and everything is just gone instead, right? That would be a change.”

As much as the constant threat of losing both the bar and my home loomed over me right now, actually losing them both was going to be so much worse. Pierre made a sympathetic noise, but I tuned him out as I took the glasses to the sink before returning to wiping the surfaces. I couldn’t afford to start feeling sorry for myself or to accept responsibility for soothing anyone else’s sadness.

I just had to get by day to day with a heart that fractured a little more each time I remembered I was on the verge of losing everything—so much family history and the last connection I had to Mom. She’d worked so hard on building the bar before she died, and she wouldn’t even recognize it now.

I’d failed her legacy somewhere along the line, and I wouldn’t even get a chance to make that right if the bank took everything away. I paused my long sweeps of the counter, ignoring the patches where the varnish lifted and the scarred wood dipped and warped, and I glanced across the room.

This was my kingdom. I reigned here. The jewel-colored bottles on the shelves behind me were among my greatest treasures, and the stale beer odor that lingered here like perfume at all hours of the day and night simply smelled like home.

I’d invested so much of my life into this business—at the expense of making friends and boyfriends, or having any kind of personal life at all. I always had things to do. Tables to clean, order sheets to complete, bill roulette to play. Which utility company will get lucky this month? It was truly up to a wildly spinning chamber and fate.

Pierre exhaled a small sigh and stood, his gut hanging just a little over his belt. He drew a creased handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his glistening forehead. “I know you have your reasons, Leia, but damn, it gets hot in here when you turn off that AC.”

I grinned in reply. I turned the AC off every evening after the last actual customer had left. Harry and Pierre were welcome to stay as long as they liked—or as long as they could stand to swelter.

“I’m glad you cracked first.” His brother chuckled. “We’ll see you tomorrow, cher.” He offered me a brief hug.

Losing this place would be as tough on them as it would be on me. They’d been friends with Mom and Dad for many years, and The Pour House was pretty much their second home. Not to mention the fact they’d also more or less adopted me when it was clear Dad wasn’t up to the role biology had gifted him with.

“Thanks, guys. See you tomorrow.” I followed them to the exit and saw them out into the dark night before closing the door against the shadows and twisting the lock.

Then I blew out a sigh as I took the last empty glasses through to the kitchen and left them by the sink. I’d clean them in the morning. It wasn’t like they’d run away overnight or I’d have a fairy godmother appear and twitch her nose or whatever. It would be just my luck to have a sudden problem with overfriendly mice, though.

Like I didn’t have enough issues without adding pest control to my list of debts.

I trudged through the kitchen—old but clean—to the tiny back office where I could barely see my desk. One day I’d tidy this small space, but sorry office, today is not your day.

I sighed. Tomorrow wasn’t looking good either when I considered how many tasks were prioritized above tidying the office. The atmosphere was different in here, though. Like something had moved or been moved. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

I glanced at the safe in the corner, every sense tingling. Forget tingling. My body was blaring an alarm. Nothing looked disturbed, but there was a hint of the bourbon Dad favored spicing the air.

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