It also doesn’t help that it’s been over a week now since I’ve gotten laid, and that’s definitely some sort of record. I can’t remember the last time I went this long without having sex. It was probably when I was in high school, but even then, my parents (being sex demons) encouraged me to explore my sexuality. Frustratingly, my dick doesn’t seem to have interest in anyone besides the elusive, silver-haired woman I’m supposed to be keeping my distance from.
Quite the conundrum.
I’m whipping up a cocktail and contemplating drinking on the job in the hopes that will help me relax, when she slips through the door into the club. My lips pull into a grin and my spine snaps straight, the demon inside me on alert. I quickly pour the cocktail and pass it across the bar, not even bothering with garnish in my haste to serve her. I bound over, not caring one bit if I look like an overeager puppy.
She slides onto a stool and flicks her long hair over her shoulder. Then I notice the dark circles under her eyes, the way her hair seems to have lost its luster, the tense hunch of her shoulders. She looks exhausted.
“Hey,” I say, putting on my prettiest bartender voice. “What can I get for ya?”
“Tequila,” she says.
“Gonna need to see an ID with that,” I reply, deciding a little snooping won’t hurt anyone. I nudge my lip ring with my tongue as I wait. The demon preens when her eyes flick to it, then the piercing in my eyebrow, before returning to meet my gaze.
She purses her lips, but pulls the card out of her bra and passes it to me. My stupid dick throbs at the thought of touching something that was pressed against her breast. I feel like a horny teenager again who has no idea how to talk to a pretty girl.
I look down at her ID, confirming the address I followed her to last week, and finally learning her name.
“Alorra Seren,” I say, rolling her name along my tongue. It’s like a sweet treat in my mouth, making me salivate for more. I pass the card back to her and do some quick math. “Twenty-eight. Checks out. Triple order of tequila, coming right up!”
I grin, but she doesn’t return it, instead eyeing me with apathy.
I hate that, so I decide it’s a personal challenge.
I set her three shot glasses in front of her, but don’t fill them yet. Instead, I turn back to the bar, surveying my options. I get to work, grabbing a clear bottle from the shelves as well as a couple ingredients from below. I measure and pour, shake, then strain my concoction into a glass.
Finally, I turn back with her tequila. I fill the shot glasses lined up in front of her, then set the sparkly purple drink I created right next to them.
Alorra pauses with one hand outstretched toward the row of shots. Her eyes flick up to mine, a dark grey-blue color, and my heart skips a beat. Will she accept my offering? I swear even my inner demon is holding his breath.
Her gaze flits between mine and the gay as hell purple drink I set in front of her. Her hand slowly moves away from the shots and toward the glass as I watch with bated breath. I bite my lip ring, stifling a grin as she picks it up.
Alorra sniffs it first, then she eyes it, skeptical, before turning her narrowed gaze on me.
Her eyes have captured mine, daring me to look away as she takes a sip. Thanks to this unspoken threat, I catch the moment of surprise and pleasure that flits across her face before she manages to conceal it.
I grin in triumph. My chest puffs out on a relieved breath, and tension I didn’t realize I was carrying loosens from my shoulders.
Then the beautiful Alorra Seren scowls, sets the drink down, and glares at me.
“What is this?” she demands, her voice husky and low and… weary?
My smile wavers. “It’s a moonlight cocktail.”
She stares at me, so I swallow and continue. “Gin, creme de violette, lemon juice, simple syrup… and uh, edible glitter.”
She blinks, but her stare is resolute. “Why?”
“Because,” I falter, sensing again that any hint of sympathy or caring will send her running. “I don’t know. I just wanted to try making it and thought you’d give it a go.”
Her eyes soften the barest amount, and the scowl lifts when she turns curious eyes back to the fabulous lavender cocktail swirling with sparkles in front of her.
“Is it bad?” I ask, wondering if I misjudged the ingredients.
She shrugs, but then she takes another sip.
The demon howls with glee, rumbling in my chest and I grin again, straightening back up. Her lips twitch when she sees my reaction, and I’d bet money that’s the closest she’s gotten to smiling in days. That’s a win if I ever saw one.
Now I need to learn how to turn that twitch into a full-on smile.
