Page 80 of First Ritual
Really? There was another return visitor in here tonight aside from me. The red-haired woman. Her aura still screamed fuck off.
“And a friend.” He looked at my cousin with considerably more interest. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
She slid onto the stool next to me. “Gorgeous will do.”
We sipped at our free drinks not long after.
“Gorgeous will do,” I muttered when the barkeeper went to tend the red-haired woman.
Rooke laughed under her breath. “You didn’t have to use up your human money. What are you complaining about?”
“No complaints here.”
“You sure? Something gave you the fidgets tonight and brought us here.”
“I guess so.” Much of which I was spelled not to reveal. “Do you know Josie?”
“Josie Glare, Josie Jo, or Josie Maree?”
I stared. “I want to say Josie Glare.”
“The one with a crush on Bedwyr?”
I sipped my drink. “That’s incredible that you know that.”
“Everyone knows everything in a coven. Was she warning you off?”
“She wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“She’s done that before. Total cockblock for Bedwyr. For years. I mean, she doesn’t stop him, but I imagine she’s a… pain. What did she say? Was it about Wild?”
My jaw bobbed. “How—?”
“People are talking pretty hard about it, cuz. Wild man lust for Bronte woman. Fight Bedwyr man for Bronte woman. Make Bedwyr man a stone. No more date. Roar. Beat chest.”
I grinned over the rim of my glass. Not a bad summary. “How does everyone know about our date?”
“Bedwyr informed everyone.” She sipped at her beer. “Josie isn’t the only one warning people off. He was definitely claiming the territory, so to speak.”
Huh. “Impressive considering he’s been a rock most of that time.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of Bedwyr’s behavior. Us dating wasn’t Caves. I wasn’t a territory to claim—something I was already worn out from convincing Wild of, let alone the guy I’d thought was much more respectful.
“Hi,” a cold voice whipped out behind us. “Got a lighter?”
Spinning on my stool to face the red-haired woman, I took in her outfit. Jeans, boots, leather jacket. Nondescript. High quality and tough materials. “No,” I answered. “But you don’t smoke, so you don’t need one anyway.”
Her glare tripled. “I don’t?”
“No. Never.” I glanced at her drink. “That’s about your only vice. Am I wrong?”
She considered me, and the glare receded somewhat. “How did you know?”
“Perhaps I’m a fortuneteller.” I leaned closer. “If I am, then I guess I’ll already know your answer to my next question. I’ll ask anyway. Why are you asking us for a lighter when you don’t smoke?” I inhaled. “While you think of that answer, you can think of a reason for smelling like a Luther.” She wasn’t one, but she’d recently hung around at least three unless my battle affinity was mistaken.
Rooke gasped on cue, and I withheld a snicker.
Kudos to the red-haired woman, she didn’t appear fazed by my questions, which only went to prove that werewolves—Luthers—weren’t news to her.