Page 3 of Lips of an Angel

After I’d successfully helped our spoiled bartender bring in the cases of Tanqueray that he’d left sitting out in the rising Vegas heat, it was time for us to open. The desert was a funny thing: In the days leading up to spring, the nights were often cool and crisp. However, I learned early on to dress in layers because the temps could soar by mid-afternoon.

After setting down the last case of gin, I turned to Angel, pushing a tuft of sweaty hair out of my face. “Are you ready?”

He nodded, hastily retreating into the office. He often spent his shifts back there unless he was needed for something else, and for the most part I could handle the front of house. The sun was high outside, and I was melting in my blazer. I shed the thing and tucked it behind the bar. Weather aside, I paid a lot of money for my tattoos—they deserved to be shown off.

“Can you manage making drinksandputting that gin away?” I teased Jack. The other four bartenders had arrived and were already setting up behind the counters, while the kitchen staff was hard at work prepping food.

Jack gave me a curt nod and ducked behind the bar. After ensuring everything was in place, I dimmed all the lights and unlocked the front entrance. At the head of the line was averyattractive brunette wearing cut-off jeans and a distressed Hollywood Undead T-shirt. The smile that curled my lips was entirely involuntary. “ID please?”

Chapter 2

ANGEL

I’d barely shutthe office door behind me before Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl” had it rattling in its frame. I shrugged out of my jacket and dropped it onto the leather two-seater, then collapsed into the desk chair. Jack’s incompetence was always exhausting, but I would need to rally; at midafternoon, my day was just beginning. Ah, the life of a bar owner.

After over a decade, I’d grown accustomed to not speaking. I’d also become increasingly frustrated with myself. I could heal an injury with a wave of my hand, but there was nothingphysicallywrong with my vocal cords, and my supernatural powers wouldn’t heal scars of the mind. Ripping away my ability to speak was the hardest thing I’d ever had to adjust to, and that was saying a lot: I’d lost mymortalityall those years ago, after all. Being a teenager was difficult enough; being a freak was even harder.

With a sigh, I grabbed my phone. Only two things comforted me when I was drowning in my emotions, and the other one was currently checking IDs at the door. He’d come running if I asked him to, but I couldn’t do that to him. Not every time.

Luckily, there was a notification on my phone that had me grinning like a fool. My boyfriend, Elijah, never failed me when Raleigh was busy. Despite his hectic schedule as a surgical resident, I always had a text waiting before a shift.

Elijah and I met in college, back when he was Raleigh’s roommate. He’d always been kind to me and never questioned why I couldn’t talk. He’d been studying ASL on his own, picking up more over the years. One night, when I had to drag the big guy home after he’d had too much to drink, Eli invited me to stay because “he’d made too much food.” Only later did I discover that he’d done so on purpose.

We hit it off that night and hadn’t looked back. When Raleigh and I moved to Nevada after college, Eli landed a residency nearby. The only reason we hadn’t moved in together was ourverydifferent schedules.

In the privacy of the office, I let the goofy grin take over, and I replied to his text. The tension melted from my body. I finally felt comfortable enough to fire up the computer.

From the day we opened the bar, Raleigh and I had an agreement: I was the brains, he was the brawn. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t smart or that I wasn’t physically capable; I worked out nearly as often as he did, and though he could be a bit ditzy at times, Raleigh was smart as a whip. But being a bouncer was more than looking the part, and Raleigh had the voice to match.

Me? I was more than happy to hide in the office until I was needed. I had a calmer head than Raleigh and could focus on the important spreadsheets without losing my patience. In fact, they were oddly calming. I could pass hours organizing the spirit deliveries. If that Tanqueray rep kept playing games, I mighthaveto find a word to say to her. I had a four-letter one picked out for her already.

I was halfway through a scary story podcast, three spreadsheets deep, when my skin started to crawl—something was wrong. I removed my headphones to listen. The bar’s overhead music cut, and I heard the sound of furniture scraping. What the hell? Raleigh loved to blare his music, so that couldn’t be a good sign. I got up from my chair to investigate the source.

I nearly had to squint when I walked into the bar. All the lights were on, bathing the interior in bright white light. I instinctively turned to my nearest employee, but it was Jack—he simply gave an “I’m clueless” shrug, which was his usual response to these things.

In the corner, Raleigh was shouldering one guy to the wall while holding another back with a single, tattooed hand. The veins popping along his arms distracted me from the intensity of the situation, but seriously; that man’s strength never ceased to amaze me.

I leaned against the bar, waiting to see how this would play out. It wasn’t until Raleigh whipped his head around that I noticed blood dripping from his right eyebrow, dark red framing the deep, ocean blue of his eyes. Every sense in my body heightened, my skin tingled. He must’ve seen me move because he gave the slightest shake of his head. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

“Out!” he thundered, sending a shiver racing down my spine. “Both of you,now!” Raleigh grabbed a fistful of Wall Guy’s shirt in one hand, and with his other gripped the second patron’s shoulder in an iron grasp. One mighty heave later, Raleigh all but threw them both out of the bar.

He made a beeline for me. “Can you keep an eye on things while I clean up?”

I nodded and took up position behind the bar. Jack scrambled to get the music going again as Raleigh disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, I winced as Korn continued their assault on my ears.

Watching the bar alone made me anxious. If another problem arose, I couldn’t exactly shout to stop it.

I turned my attention to Jack, watching him move effortlessly between customers. I had to hand it to the kid—the customers loved him. I watched as he snatched two bottles of alcohol off the top shelf and flipped them before easing into a steady pour. It disappeared into a shaker with ice and juice before he slammed the lid on.

I was so entranced that I flinched when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

“Relax. It’s me.” Raleigh’s voice hit my ears and I unclenched my jaw. I looked up at him, my eyes finding the cut beside his eyebrow piercing. My powers simmered beneath my skin, itching to reach out and heal the small injury.

But I shouldn’t.

“Are you all right?” I signed instead. I wasn’t always sure how he saw my hands in the dim bar, but he rarely asked me to repeat myself.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You can’t put this much metal in your body without a little blood every now and then.”

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