Wicked Bite (Night Rebel #2)(29)

What I saw could have doubled as a jazz club. Cigar smoke hung in the air while a skilled quartet on a nearby stage played soulful music. Couches, chairs, and tables were spread out from a stone-carved bar in the main room, with two smaller wood-and-steel bars visible beyond the dance floor of a separate room. Floating orbs cast a cozy glow while allowing its darker corners to host danger or romance, depending on the occupant’s mood. With its privacy, lack of humans, and stellar music, I might have become a regular if it wasn’t also filled with demons.

At least a dozen of them were draped over the couches in the main room. Others shuffled together on the dance floor, and another baker’s dozen sat on stools in front of the three bars. “A few” demons in town, my ass!

And Ian was sprawled on one of the couches as if he were just another demon enjoying the music instead of a vampire surrounded by enemies who could turn on him at any moment.





Chapter 15


A red-haired demon with a bad spray-tan, leather pants, and a leather bra went up to Ian. I tensed, but all she said was, “What’s your pleasure, gorgeous?”

A waitress. No surprise that nothing was free among demons, even in a secret underground jazz club. Then the smile Ian gave the waitress made me glad I was still invisible. Otherwise, he’d see the holes I was glaring into him for the way he looked at the cleavage the curvy demon made sure was at eye-level for him.

“Depends on my mood,” he responded in a luxuriant tone. “Some nights, I’m smooth brandy. Other nights, I’m single-malt bourbon. On occasion, I’m even fine wine, but tonight, I’m hard whisky, straight up.”

Her gaze swept over him, taking in the muscled planes of his chest, as he’d unhooked a few buttons in his shirt since I’d last seen him. She even reached out to trace his chest as if seeing whether he felt as luscious as he looked. I knew he did, and from the seductive way she bit her lip, she thought so, too.

Slap her hand and tell her to fuck off! I seethed. Ian did neither. He only smiled wider.

I was going to kill him. I’d kill her, too, but I’d be gentle about it since she wasn’t the one who’d constantly reminded me that we were married. That’s why she’d barely feel it when I murdered her. But Ian? Oh, yes, he’d feel it.

“Hard whisky, no chaser, coming right up,” she said in a bedroom-voice purr, then turned and went to the bar.

A black-haired demon with skin as pale as Ian’s filled the space next to him on the couch. “Michael,” Ian greeted him. “Long time, mate.”

“Long time,” the demon agreed. “I’m surprised to see you here, especially with the rumors I’ve heard.”

Ian let out an indulgent laugh. “Which ones?”

Michael smiled, but no humor lit his red-tinged eyes. “The one where you and some Halfling murdered dozens of my kind.”

That turned more than a few heads. I stiffened, but no one did anything more than look. Yet.

“A Halfling, how exotic.” Ian sounded bored. “Tell me, how did I and this curious creature slaughter so many demons?”

The waitress returned with Ian’s drink, pausing Michael’s reply. Ian saluted her with his glass before pressing a hundred-dollar bill into her hand.

“Keep ’em coming, poppet.”

She tucked the bill into her cleavage, then made a show of fluffing her breasts as if the cash had somehow managed to flatten them.

There goes your painless death!

“Details are sketchy,” Michael said once she’d walked away. “Some say the Halfling is a demon-vampire hybrid. Some say she’s a vampire-witch hybrid. Some wonder if the story is just bullshit meant to scare other demons into backing Dagon.”

“Eh, Dagon,” Ian said as if he remembered everything about the demon. “Always trying to mastermind something.”

Michael’s brows rose. “You’re saying none of it is true?”

“Tell you what is true, I need to speak to Ashael,” Ian replied, and raised his glass. “Ashael, this is Ian. A bag of jewels is yours if you come to me at once.”

With that unusual toast, Ian downed his shot and waved for a new one, which his very attentive waitress handed him. Then he repeated the toast and drank again.

Not a toast, then. An alcohol-based summoning ritual. Ashael was either very powerful to hear Ian’s call with such a weak conduit, or he was so attuned to booze that he should get an AA sponsor immediately.

Then again, Ashael could also be very clever. By giving people a weakened summoning ritual to use, Ashael could choose to ignore it, whereas the usual blood, specific symbols, and true-name ritual made a demon’s appearance mandatory, not optional.

Michael grunted. “You’re brave to summon Ashael. If he believes these rumors, he’ll slaughter you on sight.”

Powerful and clever, then. My teeth ground. Stop calling him, Ian! You’re already in over your head.

“You’re still on about that rubbish?” Ian scoffed. “Would’ve thought you were too old to believe in fairy tales.”

“So, it isn’t true?” Michael persisted.

Ian gave him a tolerant look. “Mate, if it were, would I be drinking all by myself in a place like this?”

Yes! I silently screamed. Because you’re trying to be the first vampire to kill another vampire from sheer stress alone! Gods, there were days when I missed my former, blissful apathy. Caring about someone this much was exhausting.