She laughed again, then casually, carefully, she turned toward his desk and picked up the bottle of Bliss. It burned down her throat when she took a sip and warmed her stomach in a way that relaxed her human self but further agitated the wolf.
“If you win,” Jared continued. “If you keep my name from your lips, I will give you Swirl.”
She let her thumb slide back and forth over the smooth surface of the bottle. She was tempted. It wasn’t only because she wanted the vampires out of Swirl. It would be a victory, a conquest, a triumph over Arcuro’s scion, and it would be a small insurrection against her father. She needed that. She needed to feel like she was in control of her life and her future.
She made a point of looking unimpressively at him, then at the bottle in her hand. She turned the latter upside down and poured the remaining Bliss onto the floor.
“I’ll think about it.” She tossed the empty bottle into the trash can and walked toward the exit.
“Do you want to know what you will owe me?” Jared asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said without breaking her stride. “There’s no way you will win.”
5
His plan was not going well. Three days had passed, and Nora had not returned.
It was incredibly aggravating. She had not acted like a person who would back down from a challenge. Perhaps she was not as dominant as he had heard.
Or as dominant as she had felt when she had ridden him in the furniture store.
He took a sip of his Pinot Noir, a selection Laila had chosen for him. She was good. The wine coated his tongue and triggered memories of revelry and backroom cigars.
“New Orleans… 1920?” Deagan swirled the wine in his glass.
Jared dipped his head. Maybe not that exact place or that year, but the decade was right. They had spent their days and nights in speakeasies filled with the scents of incense, alcohol, blood, and revelry.
Deagan’s attention drifted away a moment, then returned. “The table to your right and slightly behind you. Don’t turn—”
Jared looked to his right.
“I was trying to be subtle,” Deagan mumbled.
Jared let out a sniff that said he had no need or desire for subtleties, then he studied the man who had caught Deagan’s interest. He sat alone at a table, a drink untouched near his hand, and returned Jared’s stare. Brazen. Jared had dimmed his aura, but he should still make him uncomfortable. He should make him tense with apprehension, shift in his chair, search for something else to focus on.
“That is Christian,” Deagan said. “He’s been here every evening for the past week.”
Jared turned back to his table. “The Rains’ friend?”
“I believe so.”
Arcuro took an interest in anyone who spoke to Sarah and Derrick Rain, the couple who owned and ran The Rain Hotel, which contained the only magical Null zone on the planet. Jared was interested as well. The Rains had not had a friend regularly visit in over a decade.
He finished his wine and stood. Six steps and he reached Christian’s table, pulled out a chair, and sat. Still no fear from the other man. Jared was tempted to unleash his aura, see what happened then, but there were too many humans around. They would run, cry, or freeze in terror.
Christian said nothing, and the only indication that signaled he might be uncomfortable was the careful sip he took of his drink.
“You are Christian.”
He dipped his head.
“You know who I am?” Jared asked.
“I’ve heard rumors.” Still no fear.
“Rumors from where?” Jared asked.
The corner of Christian’s mouth tilted up. “Around.”
