Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(74)

“I will locate a seat,” Khalil said shortly.

She hesitated again, searching his expression. Finally she said, “We don’t have to stay, if you don’t like it here.”

That brought his gaze back to her. “This place is…an adjustment,” he said. “And I am still adjusting. I will let you know if I need to leave.”

“All right.” She sighed. Apparently this venture was not going so well. What else had she expected from a goddamn ridiculous date? But her stomach was so empty, the hunger pains felt like they were shooting through to her spine. Maybe she could grab a quick sandwich, and then they could leave.

Khalil strode through the crowd. His height and natural arrogance were such that people automatically moved out of his way. Feeling much less effective, she wiggled her way through the crowd and actually managed to reach the bar.

Two bartenders were working hard. She waved as one whisked past her to deliver tall mugs of foaming beer at one end. She waved again as he passed, this time carrying a tray of empty dirty glasses. He gave no sign of acknowledging her presence, and she scowled.

Over the sound system, one song ended, and another one by the same band began. It must be Rolling Stones night. The raucous lyrics pounded in her eardrums.

Someone came up behind her, his body brushing against her back. She stiffened, already aware that it wasn’t Khalil even as she began to turn. A low voice said in her ear, “Hello, darlin’. Lemme buy you a drink.”

She cast a leery glance over her shoulder. A handsome male smiled down at her. His eyes were glazed. Ugh. It was the bottom-feeder. “I’m with someone,” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the music. “And he’s going to be right back.”

The Vampyre said, “I’ll buy ’im a drink too. We kin all have a party. I’ll s’ply the likker.” He leaned forward confidingly. “Know what the best thing is about being me?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Grace said.

“The high we can all get is entirely legit, ’n for you guys it’s free. You’re welcome.” He braced a hand on the bar, effectively trapping her with his body, as he looked her up and down. “Shew,” said the Vampyre, his southern accent slurred. He swayed. “Yer all dressed up like a garden. I’d love to pick yer flowers.”

Grace dropped her head over her hands and groaned as she leaned against the bar in an effort to get away from him. She said, “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”

“You smell good too.” The Vampyre dropped his nose into her hair and sniffed noisily. “Kinda like watermelon. I think. I dunno, it’s been so long since I’ve eaten food, I forget.”

Ugh! She twisted around and shoved at him. It was like trying to shift a planted tree. “Seriously? My companion isn’t friendly. You need to go away now.”

He grabbed at her hands. “Anybody ever tell you, yer so purty you could make a dead man come?”

She stared at him in shocked affront. “The hell did you just say to me?!”

At the same time, one of the bartenders yelled, “Earl! Don’t make me come after you. Back the truck up, buddy, or I’m tossing you out!”

“C’mon, it was just a joke. Don’t you get it?” With a sloppy grin, the Vampyre shuffled back a step. He pointed at one of the speakers. “Vampyre—Rolling Stones—the end of ‘Start Me Up’? A joke’s no good if you gotta explain—”

Two massive hands clamped down on the Vampyre’s shoulders. Grace looked past the Vampyre to Khalil’s furious face. The renegade angel was gone, replaced by an expression of such glittering malice, Grace knew things were not going to go well for Earl in the near future.

“I’m not going to get any dinner,” she said to the man next to her at the bar.

The man didn’t respond, probably because he didn’t hear her. He was too busy staring along with the rest of the bar, as Khalil took the Vampyre by the back of the neck and belt, lifted him overhead, twisted and threw him through the arched doorway, across two rooms. The Vampyre struck the brick wall with a crack that was audible even over the blaring music. He disappeared as he slid to the floor. Conversation stopped.

A nearby woman said huskily, “Someone get that guy a superhero costume with really tight tights.”

Yes, Grace thought, as she stared at Khalil. He is magnificent. And he seems so much bigger when he’s enraged.

And this has got to be the most cursed date in the history of…ever.

The commotion began. Where the Vampyre had fallen, a growl sounded, and a wave of people scrambled back, like a wave rippling outward. Khalil smiled a calamitous smile. His hair had slipped out of the leather tie again and fell about his face. He looked entirely anarchic. He strode forward.

Grace turned back to the bar as the sounds of destruction began. “Do I have to do anything about this?” she asked herself. “I don’t think so. This isn’t one of my problems.”

She saw a bowl filled with peanuts and popcorn nearby and pulled it toward her. If only she could reach that bottle of beer, sitting on the counter behind the bar. It wasn’t what she normally liked to drink, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She stood on tiptoe and strained, and managed to hook her two longest fingers around the bottle. She wiggled it her way. Then she dug in her purse, found a ten-dollar bill and dropped it on the counter.