For a Few Demons More

already,' the vamp said. 'He's in the back with six men, waiting for you.'

Six then? Why did he bring that many? He doesn't know Mrs. Sarong is coming, does he? 'Thanks,' I said, setting my coat on the bar when Steve started drifting away. 'You mind if we wait here until Mrs. Sarong arrives?'

'Not at all.' He pulled a stool out from the bar for me. 'What can I get you and Mr. Hue?' He glanced at the melancholy Were. 'I won't tell the I.S. if you don't.'

David leaned against the bar. His brown eyes were everywhere, and he looked like a gunslinger coming in from the prairie. 'Water, please,' he said, not aware I was watching him. It must be tearing him apart, having caused those women's deaths, even if indirectly.

'Iced tea?' I said, hot in all my leather, then immediately regretted it. I was going to meet with two of Cincy's most powerful individuals, and I would be sucking down an iced tea when I did it? God! No wonder no one took me seriously.

I started to change it to a glass of wine, a beer, anything… but Steve was gone. The clatter of pixy wings brought my hand up in invitation, and Jenks landed on it, his wings shimmering with exertion. 'The bar looks good,' he said, tossing his bangs out of the way. 'No charms but for the usual. I'm going to listen in on Mr. Ray if that's okay with you.'

My head bobbed. 'Thanks, Jenks. That'd be great.'

Jenks touched his red cap in salute. 'You got it. I'll be back when you need me.'

The draft from his wings was a brief flash of cool, and he was gone.

From the far end of the bar, Steve headed our way, the two drinks in his big hands. He set them before us, then slipped into the kitchen, the double doors silently swinging closed.

David encircled his glass of water with one hand. Not drinking, he hunched over the bar and brooded. A murmur of conversation came from the kitchen, and my gaze went over the cool, dusky room, taking in the changes since Kisten had assumed a closer management.

The downstairs was now tight with a multitude of smaller tables where patrons could get a quick bite rather than a meal. Ah… no pun intended. Shortly after Piscary had been incarcerated, the kitchen made a shift from the gourmet cuisine for which Pizza Piscary's was known to bar food, but pizza was still served.

There was a large round table between the foot of the wide stairway and the kitchen. That was where Kisten spent most nights when he was working, somewhere he could keep an eye on everything without appearing to. The upstairs was a dance floor now, complete with a DJ nest, disco ball, and light display. I didn't go up there when they were in full swing; the pheromones of several hundred vampires would hit me as pleasantly and as fast as chugging a six-pack.

Against the odds, Kisten had turned losing their MPL into an asset;

Piscary's was the only reputable place in Cincy where a vampire could relax without having to live up to anyone else's ideas of reserved behavior and vampiric standards. Even shadows weren't allowed. I was the only nonvamp let past the door—seeing as I had downed Piscary, then let the bastard live—and I was honored they let me see them as they wanted to be. The living ones partied with frightening abandon, trying to forget that they were destined to lose their souls, and the undead tried to remember what it was like to have one, almost seeming to find it while surrounded by such an outpouring of energy. Anyone coming in looking for a quick blood fix was escorted out. Blood didn't have a place in the fantasy they sought.

My gaze ran over the pictures lining the walls just under the ceiling, and I started when I found the blurry shot of me, Nick, and Ivy on her bike. It was fuzzy, but you could still tell there were a rat and a mink standing on the gas tank. Warming, I lifted my iced tea to sprinkle some salt on my napkin.

'Is that a spell?' David asked, eyes going to the kitchen doors when someone laughed.

I shook my head. 'It's so the paper doesn't stick to the bottom of the glass and make me look like more of a dork than I already am.'

The Were pulled his head up from his melancholy hunch. 'Rachel, you're wearing leather and sitting at a vamp bar. You could have a pink slushy with an umbrella in your hand and still impress the hell out of most people.'

My exhalation was long and slow. 'Yeah, but alphas aren't most people.'

'You'll be fine. You're the female for my pack, remember?' His gaze went behind me. 'Afternoon, Kisten,' he said, and I turned, smiling when I recognized the scent of incense and leather.

'Thanks, Mr. Peabody,' the vampire said sourly, his attempt to startle me clearly ruined.

'Hi, Kist,' I said, curving an arm about his waist and drawing him closer. He was wearing dark pants and a red silk shirt—his usual casual clothes. 'Thanks for letting me borrow your club,' I added, tugging at him suggestively. Damn, I could really have used some alone time with him this Friday. The memory of Ivy's kiss intruded, then vanished.

His eyes dilated, and my pulse increased despite my efforts. A smile hovered over his features, and his look became more intent. 'You can borrow a back room anytime,' he said, his hand finding my waist with a comfortable familiarity before he leaned in for a quick kiss hello.

He was aiming at my lips, but, conscious of David, I turned and he got the corner of my mouth instead. His low growl of bother sent a spike of desire unexpectedly through me. He wasn't truly upset—more like amused—and I wondered if playing hard to get one night might be extremely fun. Or deadly.

'I'm… ah, sorry for postponing our date,' I said when he leaned back, becoming flustered when he'd lingered a moment too long. 'Let me know when you have another night free, and I'll get the reservation changed.'

David gave Kisten an up-and-down look, then took his drink and moseyed down the bar to stare at the pictures. Blue eyes gazing up at the ceiling, Kisten ran a hand through his hair to leave it attractively tousled. 'Oh,' he teased, leaning against the bar to look alluring and in control. 'My witch has enough clout to snag a reservation at the Tower whenever she wants.' He held a hand to his chest. 'My masculine pride is wounded. I had to make mine three months ago.'

'It's not me,' I said, pushing at his shoulder, but not hard enough to move him. 'Trent is doing it. It was part of the deal that I work his wedding.'

'Doesn't matter,' he said. 'The point is that it's done, and it was done—for you.'

Not knowing what to say, I drank my tea. The melting ice shifted, and I almost got a lapful of it. 'I'm really sorry,' I said again, shaking the glass to get the ice to move. 'I wouldn't have said yes to Trent, but he waved enough money at me to get the church resanctified,' I finished sourly. My gaze went distant as I wondered if I should tell him about our encounter this morning, then decided against it. Maybe later, when we had more time.

Kisten bent to reach over the bar, and, realizing I was ogling him, I put my attention back on my drink and off his tight butt. Crap, the man knew how to dress to showcase himself.

'Forget it,' he said when he settled himself on the stool beside me, a bowl of almonds in his hands. 'Someday I'm going to have to cancel on you because of business, and then…' He popped a nut into his mouth and crunched through it. '… you're going to have to take it gracefully and not be a spastic girlfriend.'

'Spastic girlfriend?' I huffed, realizing that his quick acceptance came from self-preservation, not understanding. Mildly ticked, I swiveled my stool, my fingers on my cold glass.

With a little hop as if having decided something, Kisten put a hand on my knee to stop my motion. 'You want to come over tonight for dinner?' he said. As he leaned closer, his hair brushed against mine. 'I've got to work tonight, but Steve can handle everything, and we can eat on my boat. No one will bother us unless it involves blood.'

His shoulder was touching mine as I sat facing the bar, and his hand had curved around my back, his fingers playing with the hair over my left ear. My pulse quickened, and I was having a hard time remembering what I was upset about. His hand dropped lower, and his breath came and went upon my neck. The scar there didn't show anymore—lost under my perfect skin—but the vamp saliva the demon had pumped into me was still there.

'I've got something I'm dying to give you for your birthday,' he said, his low voice heavy with intent. 'If I'm not going to see you Friday, I want to give it to you… now.'

The last word was almost a demand, and I shivered at the tension that pinged through me. Straightening, I licked my lips, turning to tuck my head beside his. I couldn't help but remember Ivy's kiss, and then I quashed the thought. 'God, that feels good,' I whispered.

'Mmmm.' Kisten's touch on my neck took on the hints of massage, promising more than dinner. My breath