Page 31 of Bite Marks

“Yeah,” the vampire said, handing over a wine glass full of deep red liquid too thick to be vino to a girl in a skintight silver sequin dress with the exchange of a fifty earning her a wink. “We have things covered here.”

Today, Ren was dressed in a sharp black dress shirt unbuttoned dangerously low down her tattooed chest, revealingjustthe right amount of boob. A talent that I was as grateful for as the peek at her strong forearms her sleeves, rolled to her tattooed elbows, provided. I’d spent most of the night trying–and failing— not to stare. An immense amount of effort felt wasted to watch Silver Sequins not even bother to pretend as she giggled, turning to disappear back into the crowd, drink in hand.

Come on! I’m only human.

You put a gorgeous, intelligent, insanely perceptive woman in my path and I was powerless to deny the urge tolook. Especially when every time she bent over, she flashed me the curve of her mostly flat chest.

“Are you going?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, her gaze finding mine locked on her collarbone. Ren’s tongue pressed against her fang as she gave me a cheeky smirk. “Or can I help you?”

“No!” I said too quickly.

“No, you aren’t going?”

“No! I mean, yes! Iamgoing! No, you can’t help!” I felt the heat rising in my cheeks again, a flicker of irritation accompanying it. Why did I have to besoeasy to fluster?

“Enjoy your break, Pet,” Ren called, her voice airy and teasing as she waved me off.

“Yeah,” I said vaguely, though it came out as more of a squeak. I cleared my throat, stowing my rag in the bin under the bar with the other dirties. “See you in a bit.”

Cole winked as I passed, hands busy wiping out a glass. His icy blond buzz cut was painted pink and purple in the lights, reminding me of Valentine’s Day candy. “We’ll try not to burn it down without you, girl.”

I rolled my eyes but bit back my retort to his snickering, settling on flipping him off out of the customers' view.

He’d been ribbing me about Elsie since we closed together on Thursday. Not that Elsie was helping, since she seemed to enjoy my company as much as I craved hers. Cole swore up and down that her habit of sitting on one of the bar stools to sip her coffee before the club opened was a new development. She’d usually spent most of her time with the girls in the back, gossiping and taking her time getting ready.

So, basically, she was specifically doing it to spend time withme.

As if.

And now? He’d just had another front-row seat at my awkward attempt to act like Ren wasn’t one of the most alluring women I’d ever laid eyes on.

It was a recipe for disaster. Something told me that my obvious crushes were quickly going to work their way through the workplace rumour mill, and the last thing I needed was a reputation for sleeping around the bar in my first week.

Well, at least until I’d actually managed to do it. If I’d earned the rumours, then fine. It was a cross I was willing to bear.

So,sowilling.

I made a beeline for the heavy velvet curtain that led to the back, nearly bumping right into Kaylee waiting for her cue by the short steps backstage on my way to the staff fridge in the little kitchenette hidden just off Dana’s old office.

She was wrapped in a green costume that was more gemstone than fabric, the little thong-style bottoms glittering as she tapped her foot to the beat. An elaborate ostrich feather headdress was pinned into her golden locks, giving her the air of an old-time Vegas showgirl. Captivating, and totally over the top.

I smacked her nearly bare ass on the way with a loud crack.

“Break a leg, Babydoll!”

She laughed and tried to swat me as I passed, barely clipping my arm. “Thanks, Striker!”

The kitchenette was overly bright after the dim lights of the club, the overhead light making me squint as it glowed to life.

“Christ,” I muttered, clicking toward the fridge in my heels.

Throwing the door open, I found the salads Elsie had brought for us today and started poking around in the dishwasher for a couple of large bowls and some forks.

I’d never really been a fan of eating out of a takeout box. It made the entire experience of ordering in seem less special than going to a restaurant—this was still a meal I didn’t have to cook, I wanted to enjoy it!

I popped open the containers, transferring the chicken to a little plate before putting it in the microwave to heat it up. Something about ice-cold meat always freaked me out.

Leaning against the counter to the sound of the microwave plate rotating, I pulled my phone from where I’d tucked it into my bra. Danny had texted to confirm we were still on for the game tomorrow at Kaylee’s. I typed them a quick reply filled with emojis.

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