Finn slaps me on the back, startling me out of my stupor, and the hand I was leaning on jerks out from under me so my ribscrack against the bar. I rub my side with a wince as I straighten to face him.
“Have you talked to her?” he asks.
I laugh, and it comes out more self-deprecating than I intended.
“No,” I say, clearing my throat.
“You should. She’s been checking you out.”
My gaze is drawn back to her and she turns, opening her eyes again and trailing one hand down her body. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and my dick pulses against my thigh. Next thing I know, she’s walking toward me, her hips still swaying to the music. My brain distorts the vision, like in a movie when everything slows down and tunnels.
Nothing exists except her.
And then she’s leaning against the bar, reality restored around me.
Finn chuckles as he walks back to the stage with a bottle of water, and I know it’s aimed at me. This weird, tongue-tied uncertainty is not my usual vibe. I take a breath and throw my shoulders back, determined to win her over.
Only… she’s not even looking at me anymore. Instead, she’s dropping cash on the bar to close out her tab.
And then she’s leaving without a backward glance.
Dumbfounded, I turn and look at the backlit stage where Finn is spinning his beats. He sees her walking toward the door, then looks back at me, throws his head back, and laughs. I can’t hear it over the thumping music, but I roll my eyes, a smile cracking my own face, because it is kind of funny.
I can’t remember the last time I was unable to get someone I wanted into my bed.
It’s different with her, though.
Something about her makes me stupid, and honestly, I don’t want a quick hookup. That thought strikes me dumb again,and I look back at the door that swings closed behind her. I’ve been thinking about her since I first saw her yesterday, and I’m kicking myself for not asking her name when I had the chance. I didn’t expect her to dip out so fast, though. She stayed for hours the other night.
I toss the rag under the bar and search for a customer, but it’s slow tonight. No wonder she left. This place is a bore.
My fingers are twitchy; the demon inside wants me to follow her. It’s frightening, this new urge, and I try to avoid it, which only serves to make the demon more adamant.
My eyes flick to the door she just left through, and the demon pushes at my chest. He wants me to follow her, kidnap her, fuck her,claim her—whatever the hell that means. I shudder at the strength of his desires, pushing back, reminding myself that good people don’t do those things, and I want to be a good person.
The thing is, the demon inside me has never been this obsessed before, and I don’t know how long I can hold out.
I pocket one of the many metal jiggers lining the shelf below the bar in an attempt to settle my urges, but it doesn’t help. Fire licks at my fingers, and I run it along my knuckles, playing with it like humans fiddle with a pen. I can’t stop looking at the door, and although it’s likely only been seconds, it feels like ages when I finally give in.
I wave to catch Finn’s attention, gesturing to ask if he can cover the bar. It’s slow enough that he can set an auto-play track if needed. He smirks, then gives me the ‘go ahead’ chin jerk. I race around the bar, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the few patrons we have in here as I fling the door open and look up and down the street.
She’s a block down, not hard to spot thanks to her bright silver hair. My instincts push me forward, and the feeling ofgiving in is a painful dichotomy of euphoria and shame. It licks up my spine and settles in my gut, but it’s too late for me now.
The demon has too strong a hold.
The cool night air licks at my heated skin. I follow at a distance as she turns a corner, but she doesn’t go far. She steps into another club; this one seems to be aimed at tourists rather than locals, and I walk inside a few seconds after her. She only orders one shot at the bar this time, and the demon hums with pleasure that I got to serve her more than this bartender.
It’s ridiculous and I silently berate myself.
I keep my distance, settling onto a stool at the far end of the bar and turning my body away from her. The last thing I need is to be caught here, at another club, when she knows I’m supposed to be working at Tempo.
She slams the glass down on the reflective black counter and stands, maneuvering her way into the mass of bodies on the dance floor. The LED lights shine off her hair, dotting spots of color over her face. I sit up a little straighter and shift on my stool, trying to keep her in my line of sight, but it’s impossible.
Bodies move and sway, and her silver hair flickers in and out of sight. The demon gets antsy again, urging me to find her, but I force myself to sit back down instead. I order a cheap beer and nurse it, absorbing the delicious flashes of her in the crowd as I bite my lip ring between my teeth.
That is, until the next break in the dance floor shows her dancing with another woman. The woman is standing behind her, one hand pressed to her lower stomach to hold their bodies close as they rock together, the other hand on her jaw. This woman kisses along her neck and my blood heats, both with jealousy and desire. I want to be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that, swaying to the beat with her like that. I’d even be happy to join the two of them, if that’s what they wanted. I’m not picky.
Then her hands run up her own body, across her breasts, over her shoulders, and into the hair of the woman dancing behind her. Her arms are raised, baring her pale stomach, and I groan under my breath. I know I can’t join them, she already turned me down tonight, but the demon doesn’t understand consent.
