Page 27 of The Biting Bargain

Polly jumps up from her seat, annoyance all over her face.

"You're going to do exactly as you’re told," I cut her off.

She glares at me, mouth falling open. "Why would I do a single fucking thing you say?"

"Because you lied, little dove."

Her eyes widen, her freckled cheeks turning pale as I step closer, invading her personal space. Her scent hits me again, unexpected, lush and intoxicating. The shadow inside me, now free from all curses, gives a feral growl only I can hear.

"You lied at the paranormal trait screening for Club Sanguine, that's why."

I grin down at her, my fangs protruding in my jaw, and she turns even paler.

I shouldn't be enjoying this so much.

My idea is, of course, brilliant. A companion is so old-school vampiric even the hardliners in theSocieta Vergiliican't object when I arrive at the club with a personal drone in tow. In fact, many members do exactly that. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

The image popping into my head is far from unpleasant. Her in a cocktail dress, eyes downcast as she walks dutifully behind me, the leather collar around her neck snug and luxurious, the end of her leash resting in my hand.

I've had worse ideas.

"Of course, Club Sanguine won't say a thing, they're too worried about their reputation to alert the authorities about their shitty safety protocol. I on the other hand have no problem reporting your transgression and the chaos it's causing to the bureaucrats at SILVANUS."

She gives a little gasp, backing away.

SILVANUS is the bureaucratic arm of P.A.S.H. that manages all matters of human and paranormal coexistence, and notorious when it comes to punishing transgressions. My little dove, in addition to her run-in with those mafia thugs, would have an even bigger problem on her cute little hands with the paranormal enforcement agency investigating her lying on an official screening.

She doesn’t know I would rather jump into a sewer than involve myself with SILVANUS, let alone tell those bureaucratic wankers my darkest secret. But that's what you do when you're dealt an impossible hand.

You bluff.

Unease creeps into her expression.

"That's why you're going to be my companion, little dove," I continue, closing the space between us until I'm so close she has to crane her neck to meet my gaze. I grab one of her thick butterscotch curls, sliding it back and forth between my thumb and forefinger. "You will be by my side, enchanting, demure and above all one thing — silent," I whisper, leaning in and taking a breath of her scent.

Another feral snarl rumbles in the back of my mind.

She backs away, flustered, her lock of hair slipping from my fingers.

"I'm not going to do that," she blurts out, and my eyebrows shoot to my hairline. The little dove still resists. For some reason, that makes the whole thing all the more interesting.

Flushed, the glares at me, her little hands clenched into fists. "I'm certainly not going to play your-your-your demure little sex toy or whatever, just because you wanna get into some stupid club and don't want anyone to know that you were stupid enough to get bitten by a werewolf!"

I cock an eyebrow. She's being sassy. I can deal with that.

"Don't flatter yourself. You wouldn't be my real companion. I prefer women with a little more class."

A sting of hurt is flashing in her eyes, and I'm almost sorry I said that. But she's only human, for fuck's sake. She's food. I shouldn't give a shit if I hurt her feelings or make her cry or squeal or giggle or whatever. I shouldn't care if she's existing, at all.

A furrow digs between her eyebrows. "So this is gonna be just for show?"

I nod, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

She holds my gaze for another second.

"I’ll do it on one condition."

I laugh. "Condition? You're in no position to bargain, little dove."

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