Page 12 of By the Pint

My mouth watered at the memory. And other autonomous bodily reactions were … happening. Reassuring. Pretty sure I’d convinced myself Little Dima was as dead as I was.

But also …You stay out of this, I told him.

I’d seen inside Casey’s mind, and I’d learned two things about tonight. Firstly, he would be here at the bloodbath.

And secondly, he would keep me waiting.

I was okay with that. I hovered over a barstool at the back and ordered a drink.

“We’re out of B positive,” the human barmaid said. “A pos fine with you?”

I nodded.

“Blooze or alcohol-free. Or if you want, I’ve got—”

“Alcohol-free is fine,” I said. If I was going to spend all night with my defences up, I needed to stay focused. “Have you got a straw?”

“Naturally.” She dropped a stainless-steel straw into my blood with a dull plop.

I kept my eyes forward and watched the barmaid as she busied herself pouring blood, preparing fruit for human drinks, and tidying up the back bar.

Behind me, the other patrons wasted little time getting down to business. Why bother with pleasantries when everybody here knew the score? There was the main orgy in the centre — difficult to tell just how many bodies were involved there — breakaway groups scattered throughout the chamber’s alcoves, and couples and throuples and … fourouples? were slinking off together.

If I thought fucking one person was noisy enough with their constant monologuing, listening to three hundred people shagging at once was cacophonous. Near torture. Like standing in a field of rooks during mating season while I fed from the farmer. Which I have definitely never done.

Okay, maybe just that one time.

He lived, though. The farmer. I fed from his wrist. Didn’t kill him.

It was an entire hour before I heard thoughts alerting me to Casey’s arrival. I was very nearly ready to go back to my room and declare this whole excursion a supreme waste of my time until—

The unaccompanied familiar,someone thought.

Such a senseless shame to waste a life like that.

Fuck, he looks tasty.

Just a tiny bite.

Oh, who was I kidding? I would have waited all night for him.

There was no need to turn around to see what was happening. I could hear it. My smile grew more and more smug as Casey closed the gap between us, spurning the advances of every new vampire who deigned to proposition him.

“I’m here for someone. I have plans,” he said. His voice held a nervous edge that I knew had nothing to do with the chamber’s overabundance of apex predators.

“Another A positive,” I said, waving the barmaid over. “And a … whisky sour.”

Okay, be cool, you got this,Casey said to himself, directly behind me. He steadied his breath, then slid up against the bar to my right. He nodded his affected indifferent greeting, and I was already grinning like an idiot.

I was crap at this Cool Guy schtick.

“Drink?” I asked, as the barmaid placed our respective glasses in front of us. She seemed unable to take her eyes off Casey.

Isn’t that Casey ‘The Temper’ Freckleman?she thought.Gods,he’s aged well.

Casey eyed his glass.Whiskey sour.How’d he know?

“Is that right? I made an educated guess based off …” I gesticulated towards the entirety of him. His ridiculously expensive suit, his schmancy wristwatch, his glossy chestnut hair, that criminally beautiful face.

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