Burning Dawn. Gena Showalter
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Thane. Therefore, it would be best for everyone if she stopped all potential groping attempts.
She drummed her fingernails against the mahogany counter meant to separate the employees from the clientele. The area had recently undergone repairs and now sparkled like new despite the dimness of the atmosphere. Alabaster walls were carved with intricate symbols. The marble floors were polished, and scattered throughout was all-new furniture.
Apparently, Kendra had tried to torch the entire building before Thane returned her to camp, but Adrian, Thane’s very fierce head of security, had managed to contain the damage.
Customers would arrive at any moment. Paying customers! The myriad of Phoenix-kebabs outside had drawn more and more gawkers every night. A few had even asked to have their picture taken in “the little yard of horrors.”
Don’t think I’ll ever get used to this world.
“Nervous?”
The gravelly voice shocked a gasp out of her, and she whipped around to face the intruder.
Adrian. A big mountain of a man she kinda sorta considered Neanderthal chic. He had a wide forehead and slightly overarching brows. A sharp, prominent nose. Stunningly lush lips. And a stubborn chin. He wasn’t classically handsome by any means, but he was somehow all the more beautiful for it. Maybe because every inch of him screamed male.
He was immortal. He radiated too much power to be human, the waves of it stroking across her skin every time he neared, startling her. But she wasn’t exactly sure what he was.
Should she try to use him for protection?
“Very,” she finally replied. As strong as he was, he might belittle her for requesting aid. Or, like the Phoenix, he might turn her fears and weaknesses against her.
“No reason to be. Thane doesn’t allow those under his care to be hurt without severe consequences. Which means, neither do I. Only a fool would strike at you.”
“That’s the problem. Alcohol creates fools. And I’m not like the other girls, able to defend myself against a roomful of sadistic man-sluts. Not that everyone here is sadistic,” she rushed to add. “Or a slut.” Crap! Her shift hadn’t even begun, and she was already spewing verbal vomit. “They aren’t. Really.” And besides, how would Thane know what anyone did to her? There’d been no sign of him, or his two besties.
Not that she’d looked—around every corner.
Not that she’d waited, eager. Not that she’d gone to bed disappointed every single night, feeling as if she’d been abandoned by him. Which was silly! She barely knew him.
“People never forget my consequences, drunk or not,” he said. “I’ve been told to take good care of you, and I will.”
“Thank you. But who told you to take good care of me?” Had the absent Thane been thinking about her, sending orders on her behalf?
“Xerxes.”
Oh. Won’t give in to any more disappointment. Especially since there was no reason for the emotion! Xerxes and now Adrian were looking out for her. For a former slave, that was a dream come true.
“I have to warn you,” she said. “I’m going to say the wrong thing tonight. Guys are going to assume my butt is part of their order, and I won’t be able to help myself. Fights will break out, and the moment they do, I’m going to curl into a ball and suck my thumb.”
His lips quirked at the corners. “I’ll handle it.”
Amusement? Really? “Won’t my behavior drive customers away?” And get me fired? Perhaps literally.
Did Thane practice burning at the stake, too?
Adrian reached out, as if he meant to pat the top of her head, but he stopped himself just before contact. “Silly human. I recommend thinking before you speak.”
Hey! Her questions were well thought out, thank you very much. “Insulting beast,” she muttered.
A rusty laugh barked from him. “Or don’t. I like your spirit.”
From the corner of her eye, she spotted three Fae males entering the club, each with the pale hair and blue eyes quintessential to their race, dressed in colorful feathered tops and skintight pants.
As they selected a table in back, Adrian faded into the background, and Elin’s nervousness returned, now jacked up several notches. Her insides were practically showering in acid-coated ice.
At last the band eased into their first song. A love song. Actually, a sex song, and sweet fancy, goose bumps broke out over every inch of her. The lead singer—what was his name?—had the voice of a born seducer.
“Son of a troll,” Bellorie muttered, suddenly at her side. “The craptastic trio has arrived.”
Savy appeared at her other side. “Don’t be a hater. They’re only craptastic to you—and everyone else. But there’s no need for either of us to be subjected to that tonight. We have to throw our little E in headfirst, and this is the best way.” Her gaze settled on Elin. “The Fae are regulars. They’re also pretentious and infuriating. The most any of us has ever gotten out of them tip-wise is ten measly bucks. If you can get a penny more, I’ll give you every jewel I earn tonight.”
“Me, too,” Bellorie said, clapping. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I love winning, and this is a sure thing. Like Chanel after a few drinks.”
Elin rubbed mental hands together. Take their jewels? Yes, please. Her nest egg would start off with a bang.
“What do you want if I lose?” she asked. “Remember. I came here only with the dirty clothes on my back.”
Savy’s grin was evil. “If you lose, you have to serve those Fae for the rest of your stay. No exceptions.”
“They’re seriously that bad?”
“Yes,” the girls said in unison.
“The tall one called me ugly,” Bellorie said, her nose going in the air.
Jerkbag! “You’re gorgeous. You’re also on,” Elin announced. Gathering her courage, she shuffled her way to the table. “Hey, ya’ll.” She offered her biggest and brightest plucky-best-friend smile. “I’m Elin, and I’m here to serve you tonight.”
None of the males looked at her. They continued on with their conversation.
“The new king and queen want to do what? No, they must be stopped.”
“Who can stop them? Kane is a Lord of the Underworld and Josephina is a drainer.”
“Three words. Long. Distance. Rifle.”
Please. Pretend I’m not even here. It’ll be fun.
“I’d love to get you something to drink,” she said.
Again, she was ignored.
Frustrated, she glanced over at the bar and caught Bellorie grinning like a loon. Elin stuck out her tongue.
Bellorie played show-and-tell with her middle finger.
Coughing to cover a laugh, Elin considered her next move. Put her head between the males closest to her, and risk becoming the night’s entertainment? Or walk away, come back later, and risk losing her tip because of “slow service”? Finally, she placed her hand on the shoulder of the guy on her right.
He stiffened, then flicked her arm away with so much force she stumbled backward. “Touch and die, bar wench.”
“Noted,” she managed to squeak past the lump growing in her throat. Run. Now.
Victory. Jewels. Bakery.
She remained in place. A stroke of power against the back of her neck had her spinning—and facing Adrian’s chest. She gulped, waiting for the end to come. When he didn’t lash out at her for daring to touch a patron