Page 148 of Shadowblood Souls
As we step into the warmly lit space, moody classical music wraps around us, full of swelling violin and a tinkling of piano. It smells a hell of a lot nicer than the punk venue, the alcohol tang still present but mingled with a mix of smoky florals. I suspect there’s incense burning somewhere beyond view.
The long, narrow room in front of us holds a bar that’s only smallish, a semi-circle with a glossy black counter about halfway through the space. In the front half of the room, several sleek leather sofas and armchairs squat in clusters around low mahogany tables. At the far end, patrons stand clustered around taller, smaller circular tables.
A couple of groups are relaxing with their drinks on the seats near us, but I don’t see the woman in the green dress amongthem. Most of the activity appears to be happening at the back anyway.
We stroll over, Andreas stopping at the bar to order drinks for him and the other guys, I guess to keep up our front of being regular customers. He glances at me, but I shake my head.
I don’t have Jacob’s poison winding through my body anymore, but just remembering the dizzying effects of the one cocktail I drank while I did makes me queasy. I’d rather not even hold one.
A couple dozen people are gathered around the high tables in the back. Once we’ve approached, I see it expands to twice the width of the front, as if the lounge intrudes on the neighboring building.
The other patrons are chattering and laughing and sipping from their drinks demurely. Nothing about them looks at all monstrous.
The woman in the green dress isn’t among them. Has she left already?
Or maybe there’s a second floor or a basement level.
I’m about to suggest that to the guys when the faint quiver that drew my attention to her ripples through my veins again.
My gaze snaps to a slim man who looks to be in his late twenties, standing in the far corner by a table on his own. His fingers curl loosely around the stem of his wine glass.
He’s watching the other patrons with a nonchalant expression, but I’m abruptly sure that he’s actually sizing them up. As prey?
Zian nudges me with a brief tap of his elbow against my arm. He flicks his eyes toward another man, a little older, with a stout frame and a broad grin as he says something that gets his several companions laughing.
The moment I look at him, another quiver hits me. The sensation is more obvious now that I’m getting used to feeling for it.
Jacob motions for us to head to one of the few tables that’s unoccupied, over by the wall where we can talk somewhat discreetly. He’s only taken a few steps when one of the elegant women sashays up to him and lays her slender hand on his forearm.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” she purrs.
I’ve witnessed the kind of interest these guys get from women before—at the dance club where I had that one drink. It’s not really surprising considering how stunningly handsome they are.
And I don’t evenwantJacob, any way at all.
But the second she touches him, a growl catches in my throat and my claws itch to spring from my fingertips.
Last time he got this kind of attention, he didn’t seem to mind. Tonight, he pulls his arm smoothly but firmly away and steps to the side.
His pale blue eyes turn icy cold. “Not interested,” he says in a voice that could slice through glass.
The woman winces, clearly startled by his forceful rejection, and Andreas steps in. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, keeping his own tone mild. “Sorry. We’re taken.”
They are?
The woman’s gaze darts to me, and my cheeks flare twice as hot as they did just checking Zian out.
Oh. Er.
I kind of want to shout that I’m not takinganyof them, let alone all of them, but that would send all hope of keeping a low profile right out the window.
It’s better if the guys stay focused on our current mission anyway, right? No matter what excuses they give to explain it.
I march on to the table we were heading for without commenting on the situation. By the time the guys have followed me a few moments later, I’ve willed my blush to retreat.
“No green dress,” Andreas comments in a low voice for just us to hear.
“There are two more. I think,” I say. “That guy by himself over in the corner and the chubby one with the big crowd around his table.”
