“I’ll see what I can do.” The cups fall to the floor, smashing everywhere once again. “Ah, bugger.”
“I’ll deal with it.” My attention to detail’s always been better than Egberts anyway. I crouch down, the magic singing through my arm and out my palm as I round up the re-smashed bits, along with the couple of chunks Egbert missed the first time. “So you speak to him? Have you always, or?”
I dump the scraps on the counter and focus on energy that remains in the pieces until they weave themselves back together.
“We’ve spoken. But the ball’s in his court. Always has been. I’ll get your number to him. But Willan,” Egbert waits in the door until I look at him. “Don’t hold your breath.”
He pushes off the door frame with a final goodnight before making his way to his apartment on the top floor. I watch him make his way up the stairs until the tinkling of the cups draws my attention back to them. Just as they are about to crumble once again, I renew my focus, forcing the spell into completion.
NIKOLO
The walkof shame has a different feel to it at night. It’s much more the vibe and is significantly less questionable. And as a bonus, being a vamp means that hangovers aren’t really a thing. No matter what I get up to the night before, I wake up fresh as a daisy, ready to go all over again.
And again.
And again.
I’ve been ‘againing’ for two weeks now.
While the descent has been quick—it hasn’t been pretty. Drinking on the job. Recklessly feeding. Letting the customers get too handsy while I’m up on the bar. Leaving with the customers—fuck, sometimes not even leaving, just hooking up in the alley behind the club. Every night at Bloody Temptations has been a party. Which means the nights Ihaven’tbeen at work, I’ve been going twice as hard.
It’s like the old Nikolo is back.
And he fuckingsucks.
With the time and space I’ve had betweenthenandnow, the old habits and patterns just don’t fit like they used to. Smashing the palm of my hand on the self-destruct button just doesn’t feelgood anymore. It just feels like trying to squeeze into a shitty polyester jumpsuit that’s two sizes too small.
Which is to say, it’s uncomfortable and feels like shit.
It’s a feeling that makes my skin itch on my slow, meandering walk home through the streets of downtown Osneau from wherever it is I ended up last night. I’m not entirely sure what their name was, but at least they were a vamp and had proper shutters so I didn’t accidentally get fried when the sun came up.
The feeling doesn’t improve when I pass a lovely, wholesome human family on the street and the parents snatch up their children out of my way. Usually, I’d put that shit down to me being a vamp. But tonight I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m wearing a halter top made entirely out of diamante chains and their adorable little girl asked her mother ifshecould have a top just like the pretty man’s.
If that mother’s looks could kill, I’d be dead on the street right now.
But no, I’m just making my way home at six thirty in the evening, praying that I can get to the shower without running into Kai and his increasingly concerned-slash-disapproving looks.
A tingle in my butt pulls me out of my pensive thoughts. Nothing fun like a vibrating butt plug. It’s my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I can see that it’sreallynothing fun. It’s my maker, Laurence. For a second and a half I debate not answering, but that’ll only make things worse.
“Nikolo, I swear to the Gods, if you do not calm the fuck down, I will charter a private vamp flight just to come over there and kick your behind back into order.”
Well. It seems that news of my behaviour has travelled, and the parentals areunamused. “How did you know?”
“Maddy called.”
“Ah, fuck.” I wince in apology to yet another mother who happens to be passing with her darling children as I swear. Seriously, why are there so many families out right now? It’s weird. “Thought she might do that.”
Hoped she wouldn’t, though.
“Yes, well, when one of her best employees goes off the rails and starts putting the rest of her staff at risk, she getsconcerned.”
“I hardly think I’ve ‘gone off the rails’.” I scoff, even though I know I’m teetering on the edge of an outright lie. “I’m just having fun.”
“Hmmm.” Laurence’s heavy accent adds a little flair to the way he draws out the disappointed hum. “You keep telling yourself that, baby doll, and see where you end up.”
The blow hits, and he knows it. With absolutely no defence, I say nothing, and the line hangs silent between us until I can hear the rustling of fabric in the background.
“What is going on, darling poppet?” Laurence’s voice is soft and filled with so much caring it has my knees trembling and my feet stumbling on the sidewalk. Damn him to the ether.
