Page 18 of A Sip of Sin

“Is he?” asked Munro, tilting his head. Hollen was all of five and a half feet, his green eyes the only thing that had looked somewhat unique about him. He wasn’t fast, or strong, and if his first day and ruined uniform were anything to go by, he was clumsy as well. “I don’t feel threatened.”

Hungry. Intrigued.Munro forced his gaze away from the door. Perhaps that was all. It had been too long since he’d fed, and longer still since he’d truly taken his fill in a play of lust and pain. He skimmed over Rhys, turning away.Not now.

“Covi, please,” said Rhys, closing the distance between them and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You won’t be able to hide in this tea shop much longer before reality comes knocking on the door. People like Hollen are dangerous. They know about us, but they don’t understand what’s at stake. Hollen’s friend—this man ‘George’ is a threat to our very way of life.”

Rhys always had a way of being so very short-sighted, which was astonishing for how long he’d been alive. Munro shrugged the hand from his shoulder.

“George is such an inconsequential name for a meaningless person,” said Munro. A lisp chased his words, his teeth too sharp for his own mouth. Whoever George was, Rhys was probably right, but Munro would be more than happy to drain him dry when given the first opportunity. He wouldn’t be hard to find—mortals never were. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Rhys grasped him by the arm, his grip tight. “I’ll take care of him for you. You won’t have to lift a finger. Him, his family, and everyone he knows—I’ll take care of it.”

Something dark within Munro snapped, rearing its ugly head as he whirled, grabbing Rhys by the throat and squeezing. He growled under his breath, shoving Rhys along until his back pressed against an unforgiving wall. He pinned him there by his neck alone, rage curling in his gut.

The memory of Hollen’s blood was enough to blind him, stripping his control away, even as Rhys’ eyes went wide, his mouth opening in an airless gasp.You won’t touch him. No one will.Every drop was his to savor, focusing his thoughts into an obsessive claim.

Rhys’ eyes went wide as he reached for Munro’s wrists, choking through the pressure.

“He’smine,” said Munro, squeezing tighter until blood welled beneath his fingers. It was rich and dark in that way a vampire’s always was and filled with power—the lifeblood of every person it had come from. For the most part, those people were left alive, just missing a tiny part of themselves. But he wouldn’t put it past Rhys to take as many lives as he left.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, scratching at Munro’s hand until he managed to take in a breath. “Then take care of it.” He barelysqueezed the words past his lips. “Or we’re all going to end up dead.”

Chapter Nine

Hollen

A club was not the place he imagined himself being after losing his most recent job, music pounding at his ears and his temples throbbing with the beat. People were dancing all around him, their sweat mingling in the air just as much as the spilled drinks and drugs that were no doubt being passed around.

But after three more misses in the job market, Hollen had jumped on the short-term gig. The hours promised to be terrible, his fellow employees had immediately snubbed him, and he’d nearly been trampled while trying to carry drinks when he’d come a little too close to the dance floor.

Not to mention how many times his ass had been grabbed. The first one he had ignored, shoving it off as an unfortunate accident. The last guy he’d slapped in full view of his surprised girlfriend. They were both drunk, probably to the point that they should have been cut off, but the bartender had kept mixing drinks, despite Hollen voicing his concerns.

Hollen skirted along the edge of the crowd, hiding from the tables that dotted one side of the club. One had been trying to flag him down for the last ten minutes, but he’d expertly avoided them. Heading that way meant putting himself in reach of Mr. Grabby Hands again when his palm was still ringing from the slap.

If they were really that thirsty, they’d get up themselves and wade to the bar, probably stumbling the entire time.

There was a small spot along the wall where the rotating lights never seemed to reach, the line to the bathroom to his right, and the music unbearable. Hollen leaned against the wall, letting out a long sigh that was lost to the surrounding sounds. “This sucks.”

He winced as someone rushed by him, bypassing the line with a hand over their mouth and their sides heaving. Liquid trailed through their fingers, dripping to the floor and mixing with what had already been spilled.

“I like it,” said George, rolling beneath Hollen’s skin. He’d been attentive all night, and Hollen had heard every word bounce around inside his head, despite the music. He wasn’t even sure if the songs had words at this point—more of a never-ending buffeting of noise and the beat. “There isn’t a vampire in sight—and no pizza.”

“I guess.” Hollen took another step away from the crowd, glancing through them to try to see the bar. The bartenders seemed to be looking for him, drinks lined up in front of them, but no trays appearing to whisk them away to the tables who had ordered them. Some of the tables had little tablets they could order from, so they never had to speak a word before their colorful drink would appear before them.

“Do you think Munro would—” Hollen started, clutching his hands at his sides. A familiar face flashed in the crowd, disappearing in an instant. Even saying Munro’s name aloud seemed to summon his lackeys into reality.I barely know him. Why do I miss him?

“No.” George was swift to cut him off, his tongue jerking to a stop. “Do you trust me?”

Hollen looked to his feet and the laces, which were nearly as sticky as the bottom of his shoes. “Yes.”

He couldn’t count how many times they’d fought over the last few weeks. Hollen would remind George that the teahouse hadn’t been all that bad. He was still alive, for one, and Munro had deposited more than enough for one day’s worth of pay into his bank account.

But George dashed his small hopes every time they arose. “You almost died.”Was George’s personal favorite, followed by “You’re nothing but a snack to them.”That one did strange things to his stomach. Munro hadn’t looked at him like he was a snack. Those eyes had pinned him with the promise of enjoying a full five-course meal before lingering on dessert.

“I don’t think I can do this one, George.” Other jobs he had gritted his teeth and bared it. Hell, a few of his jobs he managed to actually enjoy. But he could feel the toxicity of this place from a mile away. There were a few tips tucked into his pocket, but he couldn’t cross the floor again, trying to avoid every hand that tried to grab his ass.

His eyes burned, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, his headache throbbing harder.How am I going to pay rent? I promised Adair I’d get groceries tomorrow.

“Let’s go,” said George, his voice so soft that it was nearly a whisper inside his ear. “Anywhere you want to go—let’s do it.”

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