Page 64 of Taken By The Vampire King

The Pour House was open for business.

Holy shit.

I walked up sturdy steps to the raised deck and through the front door to be met by an icy blast of AC. For so long, I’d been used to little more than the bastard swamp cooler blowing out the laziest of breaths and a permanent sheen of sweat on my forehead and upper lip.

A server bustled by, a tray of food and drinks held expertly in one hand, a folded tray stand in the other, and I stepped back as a riot of sound, scent, and color invaded my senses. My bar was filled with chatter and laughter, and somewhere I could hear the dull clack of pool balls. And food. Holy hell, my stomach rumbled at the scent of seafood and deep-fried treats.

More music played in here but none of the noises competed. They just mingled into a general feel of happiness, and I blinked away yet more tears.

I automatically looked across the bar to Harry and Pierre’s booth, and despite all of the changes, they were still there, steady and dependable as ever, big smiles on their faces as they chatted back and forth.

“Leia?”

I turned at the surprised voice, and Benedict immediately pulled me into a fierce hug like we were long lost friends. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he murmured into my hair. Then before he gave me chance to answer, he released me, one arm still thrown over my shoulder as he gestured around. “What do you think of the place so far?”

“I… So far?” There was already so much.

“Well, yeah. I’ve barely started. You’ve been gone what…a few days?” He curled his lip slightly, then grinned. “And here you are already, ruining my surprise. I should’ve warned Nic he wouldn’t be able to contain you for long.”

“Holy shit… What have you been doing? Having guys working through the night?” I shook my head. “Don’t answer that.”

After everything Nicolas had told me about super strength and super speed, this made more sense than it should have.

I glanced at Benedict. Was he also…? No. I didn’t want to know. This was too good to be true, and something in my life needed to absolutely stay that way.

Except.

Shit. I didn’t even know if this place was still mine. I’d run away from the deal.

But Nicolas had done all of this for me to come home to. If I’d held out for the entire month, I would have come home to this and more, if Benedict said he still wasn’t finished.

Except.

Who was I kidding? This had never been about a month. That was just one of Nicolas’s lies. He hadn’t done any of this for me. It was all for him. A carrot to dangle in front of me so I’d be the good little blood bag he needed.

Another weapon dangling from his utility belt.

Benedict glanced at me like he’d sensed my sudden shift in mood. “You okay?”

It gnawed in my gut that my bar was now everything I’d ever wanted it to be…but Nicolas had done all of this to get me to behave the way he wanted me to. It was the worst kind of manipulation. But I forced my mouth into a grin as I pushed Nicolas and his lies and deceptions to the back of my mind. “Sure. Am I welcome behind the bar?”

“Anytime.” Benedict’s smile made up for the grimace I was sure I’d just given him by arriving unannounced. “Wait until you see the new electronic ordering system. But first, I have to show you the kitchen. It’s Chef’s pride and joy.”

“Chef’s here?” I glanced toward the kitchen, beignets on my mind.

Benedict laughed, his deep chuckle a balm to so many of my aches. “Not right now, but he was very insistent about kitchen layout and also the dishes for the menu. I think we might actually have his secret recipe for gumbo.” Benedict winked, and my heart twisted.

No matter Nicolas’s ulterior motives, I didn’t think Chef shared them. He, at least, had done this for me.

When my chest tightened again and my eyes itched, I stepped behind the bar. “Come on then, show me what this place can do.”

I worked until closing, until I was almost dead on my feet, serving customers and chatting to Harry and Pierre, learning all of the new food, and it was a lot to take in. Benedict had streamlined the ordering system and cut new deals with suppliers, and now I seemed to have people lining up to extend credit for craft beers and wholesale food.

After the last customer left, and the AC was still refreshingly on, I turned to him. “How did you manage all of this?”

For a moment, I thought his eyes gleamed red, but then he leaned forward and turned off the neon sign behind the bar, and the effect disappeared. “I can be very persuasive.”

I nodded, acknowledging his words, but I didn’t pursue them or ask any other questions. There were probably things I didn’t want to confirm about Benedict, too.

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