Page 53 of Bite Marks

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Elsie,” I murmured, bringing her fingers to my mouth for a gentle brush of my lips before I disappeared through the curtain.

“Tie that bowtie, Blondie. We’re on,” Ren said, filling champagne buckets with ice out of the large stainless-steel maker. That thing was going to get a better workout than an Olympic swimmer tonight.

Cole sighed and made quick work of the tie, finishing the knot just as the first of our clients made their way down the steps and through the door.

It was going to be a long,longnight.

The first few hours of the evening flew by. We were so busy that I hardly caught Elsie’s number—only the end, where she was wrapped in enough pearls to cover her nipples and not much else.

Between pouring champagne, prepping cocktails—a pair that Ren and I devised together that included a smoky, masculine bourbon mixed with herbs and an effervescent pink cocktail with berries—and trying to fill in for the missing staff whenever we could, I was feeling my energy start to stutter by the halfway mark.

I wasn’t the only one, either. Cole, Ren, Dana, and I were manning the bar, with Dana slipping away every so often tocheck on Nick at the door or crouching behind the bar to check the security cameras.

Not that she could see much of anything, if her annoyed muttering was anything to be believed.

“I think we are chancing the fire code tonight…” she said, glancing up at me from her phone screen, her finger still cycling through the various camera feeds. “I don’t know if I should be thrilled or horrified.”

“Bit of both, unless you want to pray the marshals don’t show up,” Cole said with a shrug. “Never seen this place so crowded! It’s cool.”

“What is this?” Ren asked, pulling a face. “Coyote Ugly? No one’s checking code on Valentine’s; everyone wants to be at home with their wife or husband.”

“Or their mistress!” Cole added, unhelpfully.

“Just relax, Dana,” Ren said, shooting him a look. “Be happy that it’s going well.”

“But—”

“Dana,” I interrupted. “Would you like a drink?”

I could practically see the gears turning in her mind as she sighed, glancing between me and the phone. “Yes.”

Ren and Cole shared a look that I pointedly ignored while I poured her a couple of fingers of a good whiskey, dropping one of the cinnamon soaked cherries we’d made into the bottom before handing it to her under the bar.

“It’s going to be fine, okay? New business was the goal, and this—” I motioned to the sea of bodies, packed so tightly that it was hard for the few runners we had to move between patrons. “—is new business. Why don’t you go watch the cameras for a bit? We’re pretty caught up, right, guys?”

It was a lie, but a much-needed one. The more anxious Dana got, the more she pulled Ren’s focus, and the more Ren’s focus was on Dana, the more behind we got on orders.

“Yeah, totally,” Cole fibbed, shooing her off. “Go sit in your office or something.”

Dana downed her drink and took a long, steadying breath before she stood, the empty glass finding a home in a bussing tray as she chewed the cherry. Her hand found my forearm, cool fingers giving a light squeeze against my overheated skin.

“Thanks, just come get me if you need anything.”

I put my hand over hers, the electricity I’d first felt when she’d touched me in her office making my head swim as much as about three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach. “Don’t mention it.”

She released me, though a bit reluctantly, and disappeared into the back.

I sighed in relief giving Ren’s hip a little squeeze as I mentally refocussed on the task at hand.

“Okay, what’s most urgent?” I called to my colleagues, setting a full tray of dirty glassware aside to be bussed away.

“Can you take that tray to the VIP? They’re so understaffed back there tonight, and Juniper can hardly keep up,” Cole said, nodding toward a tray full of finished drinks with a shaker flying in his hands.

“On it! I'll be right back,” I promised, ducking out from the bar to collect the tray.

I weaved through the packed floor to the doors on the far end of the bar, keeping the tray tucked securely against my chest.

Waitresses and donors—what we called the humans who allowed vampires to drink from them in exchange for cash, often in the closed VIP rooms given the side effects of vampire venom—flitted from table to table, the members-only live bar rule temporarily suspended for the night.

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