“Don’t look now, but there’s a major hottie staring your way.”
Cassia Pershing shot the waitress a grin as she pranced up to the bar. “You say that every day.”
Lesley never missed an opportunity to play matchmaker. She was crazy in love with a hopelessly romantic vampire, and wanted everyone around her to find the same bliss.
And, to be fair, her friend had a pretty good track record when it came to setting people up. She might be human, but she seemed to have a gift for putting the right souls together. Three of their close friends were now dating the love of their life thanks to Lesley’s matchmaking ways.
Cassia didn’t have the heart to tell the other woman that love wasn’t in the cards. At least, not for the next 279 days.
But who was counting?
Lesley put her tray down and folded her hands over the edge of the gleaming, jet-black countertop, as if she had to hold onto something to keep from bouncing away. A mischievous smirk curved her black lips.
Any time a guy in Club G showed Cassia any attention, Lesley homed in on it. For a while, she’d been pushing Cassia at the three werebears that owned the club. The Lacroix brothers weren’t her type, and they weren’t interested in her either.
Except for her abilities.
Cassia’s power let her control things with her mind, and the businessmen paid her well because of it. Not that she needed the money, but it made for some nifty bar tricks.
After hiding herself and her powers for almost a century, she found she enjoyed entertaining people. Putting on a good show kept patrons coming back, dropping serious cash on luxe drinks in the exclusive, members-only club for paranormals.
A slender woman with super-pale skin scooted up to the bar. Cassia smiled.
“What can I get you?”
“A gin and tonic, please.”
Cassia nodded and plucked a square cocktail napkin from the stack. With a flick, she sent it spinning through the air. It looked like a magic trick, but it wasn’t. Just practice and a strong wrist.
The logoed napkin spun like a top and landed with a graceful flutter on the counter.
She placed a chilled, balloon-shaped glass in the center of the napkin, and felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn her way.
Using her power of control, she opened the mini-freezer door beneath the counter. An ice-cold bottle of gin levitated from the bottom shelf and swooped up into the air. Mentally, Cassia flipped a jigger end over end, catching it with her left hand as she tilted the gin bottle toward the two-ounce line.
“This time I mean it,” Lesley continued, undeterred. “I’ve got that feeling. Plus, he’s been staring you down the whole fifteen minutes he’s been here. And he hasn’t looked at that bachelorette party once.”
Lesley had a point on that one.
The group of gal-pals in the corner had started with a pitcher of sangria, moved on to wine, and now, three of them were doing shots.
The strawberry-blonde with all the pretty curves had been trying to corral her friends for the last half hour, but they were on their way to getting wasted. Which meant they were easy prey.
Cassia sent the gin bottle back to the fridge and pulled out a small bottle with a pretty, gold-foil label. Regular tonic water wouldn’t do for this recipe. The folks at the bar looked on, enthralled. It was like they’d never seen a witch in action before.
The bottle hovered in front of her chest and she glanced up, making eye contact with the woman who’d ordered the drink.
Mentally, Cassia sent the bottle cap flying.
The woman clapped, and Cassia grinned.
She didn’t have time to search the crowd for the mystery man Lesley was fixated on. Instead, she nudged the bubbly water toward the readied glass and tipped it carefully. At the same time, she tilted the jigger of gin so the two liquids would mix in a mesmerizing spiral.
The woman oohed-and-ahhed.
Picking up speed, Cassia plopped in a scoop of marble-sized, clear ice cubes. With a quick sweep of her hand across the top of the glass, she squeezed in the juice from a lime wedge.
“Club G’s G&T,” she said, and finished the drink by hand-placing slices of strawberry around the perimeter of the goblet, and a spiral of lime zest on a metal spike shaped like a crucifix. The vamps got a kick out of that.
“Show off,” Lesley said and blew Cassia a kiss.
There was a shift in the room’s energy, and Cassia’s gaze swept the crowd. The only ones showing her any attention were cozied up to the bar, but she’d learned to heed her higher senses.
Luckily, the Stigward crew was in the house tonight, and no doubt Basil would keep her eye out for trouble. The group of elite warriors sat across the room on the raised platform that lined the wall. They were total badasses, and most of the women in the crowd—and even some men—would try to get their attention before the night was up.
“Seriously, you should go say hello,” Lesley said, nodding her head toward the other side of the space, and then rattled off her order. Cassia popped the top on two bottles of beer and put them on Lesley’s tray.
“What are you girls chattering on about?” Xavier asked as he passed, a rack of glassware in hand. The big Black vamp liked to act as if he didn’t gossip as much as the girls did, but spoiler alert. He totally gabbed. But as a bartender, he also had a great ear and gave excellent advice. It didn’t hurt that he’d been around longer than some countries.
“The hottie drooling over Cassia,” Lesley said, as she added two glasses of water to her tray. She gave a little eyebrow wiggle for emphasis.
Cassia shot the other bartender a ‘whatcha gonna do’ shrug.
Truth be told, she had felt a tingling at the back of her neck for a while now, but every time she had a chance to look up, no one had been glancing her way.
That didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t being watched. In a club full of shapeshifters, vampires and witches, her senses were often a little…off. And these were the best hunters in the world. They could blend in with their surroundings, holding so still you didn’t even see them.
But, because she didn’t sense any dark energy, she brushed it off as one of those things. After all, she had been putting on a show with that gin and tonic. It would have almost been disappointing if no one had been watching.
Lesley took her tray and headed back into the sea of black leather, lace, and satin. Located in the heart of New Orleans, Club G was known only to the paranormal world. It boasted luxurious, Gothic décor, and a clientele that dressed the part. Some showed up in their all-black outfits for fun, like they were wearing a costume. And for others, it was their permanent style.
Cassia preferred her dark-wash jeans and black tank tops. A pair of quality boots rounded out her practical outfit. Blessedly, the Lacroix brothers had never established a dress code.
Cassia wasn’t like Lesley. Fishnet stockings weren’t her thing. Neither were intricate corsets of satin with chrome accents. Tonight, Lesley wore what she lovingly referred to as her Queen of Hearts dress. The black fabric hugged her curves, fell to mid-thigh, had sheer sleeves and an upside-down heart cutout above her cleavage. A pair of black thigh-highs and practical, but bedazzled, sneakers finished the look. Her long, silver hair quickly disappeared into the crowd.
As another order popped out of the machine, the music slowed and the couples on the dance floor began to sway.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and a flush of awareness raced over her skin. She’d learned to listen to that sixth sense, as she called it. More than any of the other five, it could be trusted.
She paused with the order in hand and surveyed the room. It wasn’t danger that alerted her, but expectation. Anticipation. Someone or something was about to happen.
The crowd drifted apart as if she’d asked them to clear a path.
Across the way, a man stared at her from beneath a collection of lanterns. He was utterly still. The distance made it impossible to detect the color of his eyes. But she could tell how watchful he was, not missing a detail.
A vampire?
They were often still and then stealthy when they hunted.
But there was something about his broad shoulders that made her scratch that option. He was hiding a mass of muscle beneath a pale, button-down shirt and a dark-toned vest. A slim tie completed the posh look.
Holy smokes. Who knew the buttoned up, casual-but-preppy look was such a turn-on?
“Everything okay?” Xavier called down the bar to her.
“Yeah.” She gave her friend a nod and a small smile. It was their code. No smile meant that everything was not okay.
He gave her a chin thrust of acknowledgment and went back to pouring drinks. When she glanced across the room again the crowd had merged but, through the swaying bodies, she saw the stranger talking to the man at his side.
Was he the reason she’d felt eyes on her?
Who was he? What was he?
And why did she feel so drawn to him? It wasn’t like the club lacked hot guys. On any given night, she could take her pick.
But her eyes were drawn to him. In fact, her entire body felt compelled to move in his direction.
How odd.
But not bad.
Curiosity piqued, she finished the latest round of orders and then volunteered to take a tray of shots to the bachelorette party.
“Maddie!” one of the women yelled, waving to the strawberry-blonde, encouraging her to join them on the dance floor.
Cassia narrowly avoided a collision with a guy who was more concerned with showing off than where he was going.
As Cassia approached her destination, the woman, Maddie, stood frozen and a little wide-eyed.
“Liquid courage?” Cassia asked, offering the tray.
Maddie’s eyes darted between Cassia, the shot glasses, and her friends on the dance floor. Another head-bopping beat bounced off the brick walls.
The woman’s other friends gave her a playful shove before reaching around her for a small, frosted glass of tequila. But she was stuck, immobile.
“What have you got to lose?” Cassia asked.
That was her motto. It’d served her well. Perhaps age had made her curious. Or bold. But she’d lived in the shadows long enough that when she saw something she wanted, she went for it.
And this woman was looking like the dance floor was both triple-layer-chocolate-mousse-cake and the worst idea she’d ever had.
But then, with a little nod and an almost imperceptible straightening of her spine, she reached for one of the little frosted glasses. Tossing back the tequila, she coughed, patting her chest and then before the fire even had time to reach her belly, she stepped around Cassia onto the dance floor.
“Go get ’em girl,” Cassia murmured, turning to watch the girls gyrate. They were happy dancing together, but men moved in quickly. Circling and surrounding the women like prey.
A quick glance toward her mystery man confirmed that he was looking at her again. Gael, the butler at the Stigward house, was talking to him, but he kept his eyes locked on her.
Since the Stigwardians kept to themselves, she assumed he was a friend or colleague. The idea that he might be the newest member of the New Orleans team, that she might see him on a more regular basis, sent a tremor of desire through her tummy.
From this angle she guessed his eyes were blue, or maybe a light slate.
Most men would have found an excuse to talk to her already. Or hit on her. The fact that he remained in his seat, watchful, obviously interested but didn’t make his move, intrigued her.
Perhaps more than it should have.
She headed back to the bar, giving herself a stern reminder that she didn’t mix her business with her pleasure. Which was too bad.
Because Lesley was right. He was a major hottie. More importantly, there was something about the big man that told her he could take her for a ride.
And rules were meant to be broken…
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