“Oh, he’s not my friend. He’s my possessive stalker who won’t take a hint.”
She turned back to me in surprise. A smile flirted with her lips. “Give me two seconds. Let me clear a space.”
“She doesn’t like vampires,” I said when she bustled away. “Did you catch that? She was not excited about anice girl such as myself being mixed up with riffraff like you.”
“You are wearing a leather outfit with a sword, gun, and fanny pack strapped to your person. What about that look saysnice girl?”
I ignored the dig on my pouch. “Yes, fine. But I fit in. And you are still not liked. I win.”
He minutely shook his head and half turned toward the door, glancing at it longingly. A moment later, he pulled his phone from his back pocket and messed with the screen.
“I’ve never seen you fidget. What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m ready for you,” the hostess said before Darius could answer. I caught Darius’s apprehensive look before it cleared. His hand found the small of my back, directing me behind the hostess until we arrived at a booth some ways down. The previous occupants were headed around the bend, holding half-filled plates and not-quite-finished beers.
“You didn’t need to chase anyone out,” I said.
“They’re regulars. They don’t mind. Besides, not giving an elder what he wants can work out badly for shop owners.” She pursed her lips at Darius before setting the menus down with a slap. She grimace-smiled at me. “Janette will be right with you to take your order. And a word of advice—walk away.” Her eyes flicked toward Darius. “The benefits aren’t worth the rewards.”
Darius received another scowl before the woman moved away.
“What on earth did you do to that woman?” I took a menu.
“Her gripe is not with me. Clearly she’s had an issue with one of my kind.”
“What gave you that idea?” I asked sarcastically, perusing the items. I glanced up at his untouched menu. “Are you going to try and fit in?”
“No. No one here is under any illusions as to what I am.”
“Super.” I tapped a gigantic-looking breakfast and put the menu down.
“I can make an exception, of course, but that will ensure I need blood sooner.”
“Did I sayboo? No, I did not. Your not eating is just fine by me.”
A waitress with a shock of blue hair strolled up. Her body was slight but curvy, and she had a very specific scent to her, like seaweed and salt-soaked sand baking in the sun.
Mermaid.
My eyes immediately veered to the vee of her upper thighs. The burning curiosity of how they procreated, which they could only do at sea during certain times of year, constantly tugged at me. None of them would fill me in.
She glanced at the two of us, sizing us up. To me she said, “You don’t fit in with his company. You look like a man.”
“Is it the boobs?” I asked, running my hand in front of my chest.
“Men do not have boobs,” she said in a dry tone.
“That’s my point, yes. Get it? I can’t look like a man with boobs.”
The waitress paused for a second. “Fine. Then you look like a man with boobs.”
“Touché,” I mumbled. This woman made me want to wear makeup and let down my hair.
“What do you want?” She braced her pen to her green tablet, narrowing her eyes at me. “And what is your magical scent? It’s odd.”
“Odd, awesome—tomayto, tomahto,” I said. She frowned at me. “The Sunday special, please, with a side of fries.”
She pulled her pen away. “Did you read how much food comes in that breakfast?”
