have ten minutes of happy hour left.”
I pushed past him and headed down the narrow stairs. We emerged into a
long room with a bar on the left, booths on the right, and tables scattered
around a stage at the back. The place was lit by deep yellow lights, and the
walls were lined with dusty volumes. Most people were drinking, though
there were a few enjoying a cocktail in the company of a good story.
The tattooed bartender smiled as we approached. “So, which one of you
is into Biker Bears?” Savannah raised her hand, and the bartender winked at
me. “Then you must be into those baaaad alphas. I flipped through it. That
one gets hot fast.”
My fists clenched. I would make Savannah pay for this. Her insufferable
smirk was enough to make me want to rip the bar top off. Or her top off.
Trying to maintain some control over my emotions, I pulled out a wad of
cash and placed a couple of fifties on the bar. “Two Manhattans.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender turned away and plucked a bottle of
vermouth from a surprisingly wide selection on the wall. Manhattans must be
their thing.
“Thanks for asking me what I wanted,” Savannah hissed.
“We’re not staying long.”
She pouted. “You’re more fun at your bar.”
I turned and fixed her with a steady gaze. “Because it’s my bar.”
At my bar, everyone knew not to look too long at the woman I was with.
Here, all the men kept glancing up at Savannah.
Our mate.
She was not. We hadn’t sealed the bond, and we were going to reverse
her condition. But it pissed me off, just the same.
I caught a vampire in the corner gazing straight at her with obvious
intentions. He was looking right past the woman he was with and straight at
Savannah’s long, elegant neck and exposed shoulder. My claws slipped out,
and it was all I could do not to flip his table over and ram a broken-off chair