Page 9 of The Devil's Ice

“The shots to table eleven, the beers to sixteen, the rum-and-coke to twenty-five, and the whisky on the rocks to twenty-six.”

“OK. Got it.”

Vixen made the rounds, setting down drinks with a murmur of apology for the wait, expertly evading groping hands as she gracefully pivoted with her tray. She knew this game very well, and she’d never had any trouble playing it: after all, she was a woman serving up alcohol in a biker bar, and that came with certain expectations. She knew that being ‘barely-dressed’ as Melanie had said was a basic requirement (and it’s not like Mel was wearing a snowsuit herself), as was flirting with the customers. Vixen made a decent wage, but she depended on her tips to pay her bills and still have a bit left over to save and top up her emergency fund.

So flashing a bit of thigh was mandatory, making sure to bend over so the men got an eyeful of deep cleavage was required, throwing her head back and exposing her neck when she laughed at their inane jokes was the bare minimum. Vixen got it, every woman who worked at Satan’s got it – but it was onlyshewho was flogged and chastised for it.

Well. So be it. She’d double down, triple down… now that she knew what Icereallythought about her, she was free once again to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Despite the whispered rumors and persistent gossip and boasts made by numerous men, she hadn’t been with anybody but Ice for well over a year, and they both knew it damn good and well. They’d never declared that they were anything official, but they’d beensomething. Vixen still didn’t know what that might have been, but it had meant something to her and (she’d thought) to Ice too.

I was wrong about that, though, wasn’t I?

And now it was time to be with somebody else, if she chose. She was fully a free agent, right?

Right.

Bang on cue, the door opened and in walked a man that she’d never seen at Satan’s before; her mouth almost dropped open as she clocked that he was her dream man to a T. Easily a strapping six-foot-four and two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of muscle, he entered the large room like he owned the place. Dark hair framing a chiselled face, dark eyes flashing, dark tattoos appearing as he stripped off his leather jacket. Confidence and sex appeal rolled off him in a steady wave, and every woman in the bar blinked in a sort of sex haze.

“Holy Lord.” Julianne stood next to Vixen, staring as the man sat his snugly-jeaned ass at a table in her section. “Who the hell isthat?”

Vixen nodded at the man. “He’s at one ofyourtables. Go find out.”

“Damn right I will,” Julianne tossed her hair back, licked her full lips. “Too bad for you, huh?”

Vixen shrugged, her long blonde hair cascading over her slim shoulders. “Sure.”

Julianne sauntered over, her full hips swinging in her sprayed-on black jeans, her toned mid-riff exposing her sparkling navel ring. She was a pretty girl and she was a good ten years younger than Vixen and she got her fair share of male attention – but Vixen was a showstopper and always had been. She’d see if tall, dark and sexy would go for Julianne, and if not, Vixen would step up.

She returned to the bar now to pick up another round of drinks, and by the time she’d turned around, Julianne was standing next to her looking grumpy.

“What’s wrong?” Vixen asked her, lifting the full tray easily; working at Satan’s was better than lifting weights any day. “Is he an asshole?”

“Nope.” Julianne huffed and tossed her hair again, this time in annoyance. “He asked foryou.”

Vixen raised her eyebrows. Even for her, in this place that was her official stomping ground, this was crazy-fast in terms of return, especially considering that she hadn’t even exchanged a single glance with him, let alone a word.

“Why?” she said, throwing a quick look at the man. He was sitting with his massive arms crossed, impressive biceps popping out of his tight black t-shirt, and looking over at her with a frank and open expression. “Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Melanie chimed in now, pouring tequila into shot glasses. “Your reputation precedes you, huh?”

“You think?” Vixen said mildly, though her temper was starting to flare. It took quite a bit to really get her mad – she’d always had a pretty long fuse and a slow burn – but when she was angry, then she was seriouslypissed. And this bitch was getting on Vixen’s last, frayed, hurt and exhausted nerve.

“Iknow,” Melanie snapped, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Jesus Christ, you’vegotto be the biggest fucking slut in the state! Then again,whoresmake better tips, right?”

And that wasit– Vixen was done. Maybe if Mel hadjustcalled her a slut, or maybe even a ‘see you next Tuesday’, she’d have been able to keep her cool, but she’d gone and chosenthatdespised word. Despite having heard it a million times, it hitwaydifferently now that it had been hurled at her from Ice’s mouth. With a crunch in the pit of her taut stomach, Vixen realized that she’d never again be able to hear the word without thinking of him.

Fucking, fucking Ice.

“Well,” she said deliberately. “Seeing asI’mthe one that he wants and not you, I’ll take your table then, Julianne. I’ll swap you for one of mine. How about…” Vixen looked around her section, spotted the two creepy guys with no teeth and for some reason, both missing a couple of fingers, “…You take table eighteen. I think those boys are much moreyourspeed, huh? Maybe you can even take one home tonight, with a bit of effort, what do you think?” She turned, glanced over her shoulder at her fellow waitresses. “Remember,whoresmake better tips. Right, Mel?”

Off she sailed without another look at their furious faces, making sure to hold the man’s gaze as she slowly approached, giving him plenty of time to check out and appreciate her assets as they moved closer to him. He was leaning back in his chair now, those dark eyes alight with interest and a heat that she’d normally respond to immediately, on a feral and primal level.

But for some reason, she didn’t feelanythingat his wolf-like smile, or at his gorgeous face that was a normally-irresistible mixture of warrior and angel. Despite her efforts, her own dazzling smile was perfunctory, her slinky movements automatic, nothing was going on below the surface for her. And then it hit her: seeing blatant, ferocious desire indarkeyes was wrong, allwrong.

Blazing heat, molten desire, and flame in ice-coldblueeyes…thatwas all she wanted to see. Nothing else, nobody else, interested her or spoke to her body. Not anymore.

The thought of flirting with this man, playing coy and cute and coquette, exhausted her. The whole process of negotiating her way into some kind of sexual encounter – tacitly agreeing to terms, giving consent, getting into a back room, starting to get undressed, then having to hope that he could give her pleasure, all while getting to know a stranger’s body yetagain– utterly repelled her. She didn’t want to see this man without his clothes on, she didn’t want him to seehernaked; she wasn’t turned on by his muscles and tattoos, his handsome face and massive hands. It was all so boring, and it was another spin of the revolving door of how she’d lived her life for fifteen years, and she just didn’tcare.

Abruptly, Vixen turned right around and headed back to the bar. She didn’t look behind her, but she imagined that the man was watching her pert ass march away from his table with an air of confusion, and no wonder, because Vixenhadbeen doing that sexy sashay his way, up until seven seconds ago.

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