“Indeed,” he replies. “Polly was known for wandering, stopping into the new businesses that would pop up, keeping her eye on things. We like to honor her this way.” He presses the head of the figurine, and it bobbles adorably.
I feel my shoulders loosen, and as I watch the rest of the Mapletown residents continue to dance and drink with abandon, I decide to give this night another shot. “May I have a martini?”
Dominic chuckles proudly as he drums his fingers on the bar. “Coming right up, m’lady.”
Chapter 2
DOMINIC
The pain in my neck is what rouses me. It takes a minute for me to realize where the hell I am, but when I look down at the old, paint-stained Fast Glass Tavern sweatshirt draped across my lap like a blanket, and the twisted shape of my body stuffed into the poorly cushioned chair, the previous night comes flooding back.
After the incident with Finn, I spent the rest of Halloween night serving Lindsay martinis. The bar was packed until last call, but Lindsay may as well have been the only customer in the building. That’s how I operated once she took the stool in front of me. I served no one else. She had my full attention. Not only because I was determined to improve her mood, and not only because her striking different-colored eyes were so easy to get lost in, but also because this isn’t the first time I’ve met Lindsay Abbadelli.
Long before I was bitten, and the virus turned me into a mindless, brain-slurping deviant, this radiant woman was my very first kiss.
Too bad she doesn’t seem to have any memory of it.
I don’t take it personally. We were kids. My skin was whiter than milk, nowhere close to the green shade it is now, and I had the awkward, gangly body of a boy stumbling through puberty. I’ve changed a lot since then.
A soft groan pulls my attention to the bed, and Lindsay turns on her side to face me, kicking her foot out from beneath the down comforter, her long toes flexing as the sunlight bounces off the white-painted tips. Her hands are fisted beneath her chin, and my lips tug at how adorable she looks.
I silently urge her to stay asleep, knowing how hard her hangover is going to hit once she’s awake. She had three martinis before I encouraged her to switch to water, and noticing she had trouble walking, I got her a room at the Pebblebrook Inn to sleep it off.
She told me she didn’t intend on interrupting Natalie and Winston’s reunion by asking to crash in one of the spare bedrooms, and her plan was to sleep in her car. That was unacceptable to me. I would’ve offered her my bed if I thought she’d take me up on it, but after Finn put his hands on her like an entitled prick, I knew she wouldn’t, and the last thing I wanted to do was to make her think I was anything like him.
I also don’t think a woman like her would be eager to sleep in a trailer, on a queen mattress that’s had multiple owners. Despite the jeans and hoodie, I can tell she’s fancy. She smells like vanilla and bergamot, her hair is shiny like my truck after a fresh wax, and I’d bet my left nut she has more than one winter coat.
I’d been searching for her ever since that kiss, but without knowing her last name, my search never yielded any promising leads. I wouldn’t say I’ve beenin lovewith her since then––I’m not that much of a simp––but I couldn’t forget her. Didn’t matter how many times I tried. Now she’s…here. In Mapletown. Mere feet from me. My dream girl with the different-coloredeyes. A lock of her long black hair falls across her freckled cheek, and my fingers twitch with the urge to tuck it behind her ear. My need to care for her is overwhelming, and I’m not sure why.
It could be because she saved my life all those years ago, and part of me is eager to return that kindness, but it feels like more than that. In the memories I’ve kept of her, and the many ways I’ve imagined her, she never looked quite so dejected. Her fierceness hasn’t faded, but the constant tension in her shoulders and narrowed gaze make me think the world has let her down, likely more than once.
I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the soreness from the strain of sleeping upright in a wooden chair with cheap cushions. My gaze lands on the glass of water I placed on Lindsay’s nightstand. She’s going to need more than that when she wakes up. Something strong, with teeth, that’ll fight off that hangover. Quietly, I shove my wallet and keys into the back pocket of my jeans and slip out into the hallway before putting on my boots.
I return twenty minutes later to a still-sleeping Lindsay with an assortment of bagels and pastries, and two steaming black coffees, one with cream and sugar, and one without.
Since recovering from the virus, my diet has been primarily raw meat. Most human food doesn’t make me sick; it just doesn’t taste as good as it did before I turned. There are a few exceptions, things I still enjoy eating since childhood, but I’m certainly not a member of the clean plate club. Though I do have a cup of black coffee each morning, out of necessity. The taste is rank, but it wakes my ass up, so I tend to drink it as quickly as possible without searing the taste buds off my tongue.
My phone buzzes on the table, and I grab it before the vibration wakes Lindsay. I’m in a group text with the rest of the bar staff, and Rizlan and Anton appear to be awake and chatty.
Anton: Finn, man. The fuck is the matter with that boy? Was grabbing a woman truly worth blowing up his life here?
Rizlan: He’s a demon. What’d you expect? A strong moral compass? Dude has been on thin ice since he arrived. I never trusted him. Good fucking riddance.
Rizlan’s reaction isn’t surprising. I’m not sure what his beef is with demons, but as a dragon, it’s in his nature to be fiercely protective of the women around him. It’s why I hired him as a bouncer. He watches the crowd inside the bar as if every woman in attendance is his own sister.
Anton is a kraken and my cook at the bar. He’s not big on confrontation, but he loves any fresh gossip he can sink his hundreds of teeth into.
Anton: What an idiot. Did he think she’d enjoy being assaulted and beg him to take her home?
Rizlan: You’re applying rationality to irrational and disgusting behavior. It’s never gonna compute. Besides, did you see the way Boss Man was looking at that soft little human after Finn was tossed?
Anton: Didn’t notice, but I’ll throw a motherfucking parade in her honor if she pulls him away from Gemma.
I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking. Gemma and I are not together. Not technically, anyway. She’s reminded me of that more times than I have fingers. Not that it matters, since it’s none of their business anyway. Even though their gossip is coming from a good place––these dingleberries are desperate for me to wife up and settle down––I don’t want them getting the wrong idea about Lindsay. She’s not my future anything.
Boss Man has entered the chat and will put you on janitorial duties for the next two months if y’all don’t shut your yaps.
Vyla: Stop gossiping like little old ladies so I can go back to sleep, please.
