Page 37 of Saving Her Vampire
“Isn’t she a sweet one.” The bartender stops in front of us.
“Drinks,” Bash growls. His hands grip the wood, and I swear I hear a crack.
“Something fruity,” I say.
“Whiskey,” Bash says. “I want to kill him,” Bash whispers violently when he turns to get our orders.
“Be patient. I’m sure he talks to every new woman here like that,” I sooth.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“Can you tell how many vampires or shifters are here?” I ask, trying to take his mind off the bartender's words.
“Yes.” He looks around the room. “There are ten vampires and five shifters of varying kinds. I thought there would be more, but there are rooms in the back, too.”
“Wow, do you think they know what the owner is like?”
“I doubt it. A man like Brandon hides his true colors, the same as abusers.” Our drinks arrive, but the man doesn’t move away.
“I’ve never seen you here before. I would remember her,” he says, grinning charmingly.
“We have not,” Bash says through gritted teeth.
“Is she yours? Or are you sharing?” he asks stupidly.
“She is mine. I would kill anyone that touched her.”
My stomach flutters in pleasure at his words, but at the same time, the fear of being forced to be with someone else makes me feel sick.
“No problem. We don’t force you to share.”
Bash casually brings my glass to his nose, smells it, and takes a sip. He sets it in front of me, pushing it close. Thank God, because I need some liquid courage.
“What’s in the back?” Bash asks.
“Those are private rooms. You can purchase a room for the night or a few hours.”
“That’s where all the fun is.” A waitress stops next to us. I have to make an effort to keep my eyes on hers.
“Candy,” the bartender says.
“What? It’s true. My name is Candy,” she says, smiling.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask. I absolutely hate that Bash is seeing all these women almost naked. I’ve been wrapped up in my reaction to it all and haven’t thought about him until Candy’s perky breasts are presented to us.
“Six months. I love it here. Everyone is super nice.” Her answer seems too rehearsed to be honest.
“Candy, one of the regulars wants you at table ten.” A man leans on the bar beside us.
“Yes, sir,” she says, running off.
“Bash. I saw that white hair and thought,that can’t be him.” He looks towards Bash, keeping his eyes averted. “Why would a man that hated me come to my club?” He has sandy blonde hair that is slicked back.
“Brandon, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Bash says. “I heard about the club and thought we would try something new. If I knew you owned this place, we wouldn’t have come,” he forces out. I can tell the difference in his voice as he lies through his teeth, but Brandon doesn’t know him that well.
“Really? You aren’t here with your friend to shut me down?” Brandon narrows his eyes but has yet to look into Bash’s gaze.
“No,” Bash says. I wonder where Bishop is, but I don’t want to call attention to him by seeking him out.