We managed to claim a couple of barstools—which, following the theme of the place, were shaped like aliens’ heads—and then caught the eye of one the bartenders.
“Welcome, ladies,” he said, his dark amber eyes glowing with appreciation as his gaze swept from Belle to me and back again. “I’m thinking you’re both new around these parts.”
He was almost as tall as Belle, and had brown skin and hair that held just the slightest tinge of red. Which, from what I knew of the reservation wolf packs, meant he was one of the Marins.
“We’ve been in town a couple of months,” Belle said, her tone amused. “But this is our first time in the club. What drink do you recommend?”
“Ah, well, that depends on how good a time you want.”
“I want a ‘hell yeah, dancing on the bar’ type good time,” Belle said, her smile echoing his.
He laughed. “Then I have just the drink for you—two Death in the Afternoons coming up.”
As he walked away, I swung around to study the dance floor. There was an intriguing mix of both young and old in the room, and the atmosphere in the place was warm and friendly, despite the weirdness of the surrounds.
Movement above the dance floor caught my eye. I looked up, and realized a room had been built into the ceiling at the point where all the arches met. It was right above the dance floor and basically built from dark glass and metal, which gave it a full view of the whole room while all but concealing its presence from casual sight.
There was a woman standing at one of the windows. She was little more than a featureless shadow, but there was something about her presence that had unease stirring. Maybe it was the night, maybe it was simply the uncertainty of my dream and what it had meant, but she was almost otherworldly.
I shivered, and, just for a moment, wanted to do nothing more than run. She stepped away from the window and beyond my sight, but that uneasy need to flee didn’t similarly fade.
What you need, Belle said, with a glance up at the concealed glass room, is to stop seeing threats in shadows, and just try to have a good time.
I’m trying.
Try harder. Especially given this might be our one and only chance before all hell breaks loose.
Thanks for that rather cheery thought.
She laughed. You’re most welcome.
The bartender returned and handed us each a champagne glass. The alcohol inside had bubbles and a greenish-yellow tinge. Belle took a sip and then grinned. “Oh hell, yeah. That’s good.”
“Absinthe and champagne,” he said. “An awesome combination that should be imbibed slowly if you don’t wish to be flat out on the floor rather than dancing on the bar.”
Belle laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Isabelle—Belle to my friends—and this is Lizzie, my good mate and the co-owner of our café.”
“Zak Marin,” he said, holding her hand just a little longer than necessary. “Bar person by night, handyman by day.”
“A man who is handy never goes astray,” Belle all but purred, even as I rolled my eyes. “You’ll have to give me your business card.”
“Oh, of that you can be sure. Shall I start up a tab for you both?”
“Yes, please,” Belle said, and handed him her credit card.
He swiped it through the machine and then handed it back. “I’ve got to go attend to some other customers, but don’t run away on me, ladies. I’ll be right back.”
“A man who is handy never goes astray?” I repeated, once he was out of earshot. “Seriously?”
“Hey, it worked, did it not? That wolf is all but mine for the night, Lizzie dearest, so you’d best start looking elsewhere.”
“No problem, because I’ve sworn off men, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t flirt and dance a little.”
I let my gaze roam across the dance floor. There was no denying that there were some fine-looking men in this room, but that was to be expected in a reservation. You didn’t often see overweight or out of shape werewolves—their systems simply ran too hot for that to happen.
Of course, that heat also made them very good lovers—a thought that instantly raised Aiden’s image in my mind. I shoved it firmly back into its box and swung back to the bar.