Hour of the Lion

Calum frowned. Only yesterday, Thorson had returned from the mountain where he’d gone to ease his grief. Tonight, he was single-mindedly trying to get intoxicated. Unfortunately, his drinking companion was Albert Baty, another human-hater. Sober or alone, the men posed no problem. Put them together, and their anger merged and increased.

After Rosie had gone off duty earlier, Calum had served the men himself so Victoria would have no reason to go near them.

Other customers had also required special service. He glanced at the corner table by the kitchen door and saw the dwarves’ glasses were empty. Already. With a sigh, Calum built two more black and tans and carried them over. The satisfaction that the discriminating local dwarf population found his beer good was offset by the danger of having them frequent his bar, especially on busy nights.

Like many magical beings, the dwarves generated a you-can’t-see-me aura. The RESERVED placard on the table and the slightly antagonistic waves coming from them repelled most humans… unless they were very drunk, like the old rancher last week who’d plopped himself down on Gramlor’s lap.

And Alec-Alec had been laughing so hard he almost failed to wrench the axe away from the dwarf before Gramlor split the human’s head open.

At the table, Calum kept his back to the room and bowed. “Gentlemen, your drinks. I trust everything is adequate?”

Nurxtan smoothed his beard. “You still have fine beer, Cosantir. I haven’t visited here since your dam’s lifemate passed on. My condolences.”

“I thank you.” He set a mug in front of each dwarf.

The other dwarf who came in often nodded his thanks.

Nurxtan’s attention turned away. Alec had just walked in, and his progress to the bar was hindered by greetings on all sides. “Your brother appears in good health.”

“He is that.”

The dwarf frowned. “He scatters his seed to many, many, yet has no formal lifemate. And neither have you, Cosantir.”

“My mate died.”

“Time has passed. Find another. Bonded Daonain are safer for all.”

Calum’s jaw tightened. Dwarves didn’t lie, didn’t hand out compliments, didn’t have any tact, and those long noses of theirs poked into everything, including people’s personal lives. “I-”

Nurxtan interrupted. “And this time, share with your brother.”

No point in discussing it. Calum rendered a tight nod and stalked back to his bar. Bollocks. Lenora had been frail and her timidity had kept her from accepting Alec, warping their mating to only her and Calum. Alec had understood, but guilt still rode Calum’s shoulders, even so many years after her death. Putting it aside, he returned to working the taps.

From the waitress station, Vic waved and caught his attention. “I need three white wines and a Bud Light,” she called. As she reached for the water pitcher, her full breasts rested on the bar top like a prize to be gathered. With an effort, he averted his gaze, closing his hands around a cold wine bottle instead. Three wines. Right.

Despite the noisy conversations, he still heard his brother’s snicker from the far end of the bar. Obviously Alec had seen where his attention had lingered. Calum shot him a look of frustration, and Alec raised his glass in a toast of perfect understanding.

“Your order is complete, Victoria.” Calum placed the drinks in front of her.

“Thank you.” She set them on her tray and gave him a smile that flooded his system with testosterone. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she brought all that delightful energy to mating.

“Ring them up to the Howard account,” she told him and hefted up the tray.

The ease with which she carried the heavy trays hinted at strong muscles hidden under her smooth female padding. She had the prowling gait of a shifter, he noticed again. He turned and met Alec’s look. After drawing a Guinness, he moved down the bar to hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Alec took a gulp. “A human shouldn’t affect us this way.”

“Some trick of the pheromones. Shifters do bed humans, after all.”

“Only because they’re convenient-not because of any real appeal,” Alec pointed out. “I don’t know about you, brawd, but I’m damned attracted.”

“As am I.” Too attracted. The God was teasing him, keeping her constantly in his sight. Within his scent-range. But he knew it wasn’t wise for a shifter to get entangled with a human. “After the Samhain Gathering, we should visit elsewhere.”

“And check out some new females? Maybe even find a lifemate?”

“Precisely.” His relationship with Lenora had been incomplete. Next time he’d be able to share his mate with his brother.

Vic’s eyes were going wonky, she decided. In her peripheral vision, she could see two short guys sitting near the hallway. But when she looked straight at the table, it was empty.

Hadn’t she seen Calum deliver two drinks? He’d stood a while and then returned to the bar with empty glasses. Had he sucked down two glasses of beer by himself?

She averted her gaze, and in the corner of her eyes, saw the two guys reappear at the table. Very, very short men with waist-length beards. They looked almost like… She snorted. Nah. No way. Then again, she was looking for werecats. So, maybe, maybe, right here and right now, she had two mini-men who were escapees from the casting room of Lord of the Rings. Dwarves.

That had been a great movie, but the operative word was movie, not real life. God help her, was she going to have to investigate dwarves next? This task Lachlan had given her was turning into a complete cluster-fuck.

She set the tray down on the women’s table with a thump that rattled the wine glasses. Forcing a smile, she said, “Here you go.” After setting out the drinks, she glanced around the room. It was too busy right now to investigate that corner table. Rosie had gotten sick and left work early, leaving Vic the only waitress in a packed tavern.

And who had put on an Elvis Presley tune? Blue Hawaii-in Washington? That was just wrong.

Who needed a drink next? First, clear off the table by the fireplace. Then swing by the pool room. Most of the people in the main room should be okay for a while. Her gaze lit on the table nearest the door and the two older men who Calum had been serving. One man was pudgy and short with drooping jowls like an overweight bulldog. The other was over sixty, but looked like a junk-yard dog-just plain mean and with the scars to prove it.

The two glared at her as if she’d keyed their favorite pick-up. She checked the bar, but it was surrounded by people, which meant Calum couldn’t see their pitcher of beer was empty. Apparently, the table was her responsibility. Duty calls.

She made her way over. “Gentlemen, what can I bring you to drink?”

“You can’t bring me bird droppings, monkey face,” the pudgy one said in a low voice. “Get away from my table before your stench makes me puke.”

“Well.” Considering she was supposed to also be the bouncer, maybe Calum would let her toss the asshole out the door to see if he’d bounce. No. Be good, Sergeant. Besides, starting a fight wasn’t exactly considered covert. “Fine, then. If you need something, please go to the bar to get it.”

He didn’t answer, just slammed his almost empty mug down so hard that beer splashed across the table.

Stepping back hastily, Vic bumped the other guy’s knees.

Junk-yard Dog shoved his drink away and rose to his feet, his deep-lined face distorted with rage. “I don’t want you in here. Not you”-his maddened gaze turned toward the table of three women-“and not them either.” Snarling like a rabid dog, he lunged at the wide-eyed college girls. “Get out.”

“Oh, fuck.” Vic tossed her empty tray on the table and caught the man by his collar. With a hard yank to pull