Chapter Three
Alvis
The Raven’s Perch
The Raven’s Perch, Pierce’s mate’s bar, wasn’t what I expected at all.
My old friend had informed me that his mate was a wolf-elf-crow but I had expected a bloodier atmosphere.
Bloodier by the old-fashioned meaning. Something redder, quieter, cozier tables for little private conversations.
Instead, music pounded in my ears, and someone had already spilled their drink on me.
The guy behind the bar promised the dry cleaning would be covered (I wasn’t worried about it) and had loaned me a Grim Howlers shirt with a little hole where the collar met the actual shirt fabric.
Now, I had the drummer splattered across one of my nipples and the tag was torturing the nape of my neck.
If it were mine, I’d cut the little bastard out, but the shirt was well-worn and well-loved and I’d make sure the bartender received it back, washed and tidy.
The dragon who tipped over his whiskey sour on me was apologetic but part of me wondered if he was flirting with me.
I hoped not because it was a waste of a perfectly good drink.
After my last husband died a decade ago, I’d sworn off all the modern dating stuff.
After spending three hundred years with one man, maybe I had enough of them to last me a lifetime.
I wasn’t in grief mode anymore, but I wasn’t ready to be flirted with by overzealous Moonscale dragons looking for a place to poke their dick either.
Even if rumor had it most of them were vers.
The bartender ran a hand through his tight curls and checked his watch.
His replacement was running late, and the dance floor was packed.
It had been over five hundred years ago, but I’d once tended bar.
I almost offered to help but that would mean explaining how I knew Pierce and Crilus and I wasn’t here to give my memoir.
I had briefly dated each of his parents in turn but never at the same time.
I’d stayed friends with them both over the years.
Now, I was here to see to a mother-in-law of one of Pierce’s friends who fell into a draconic sleep after a small bit of time spent enraged and protecting her only kid.
“Hey, nice shirt,” a wolf omega sat down next to me.
“It’s not mine,” I said and started to explain about the dragon who had tripped and dumped the whiskey sour on me, but I was cut off before I could finish.
“Hey, Mori,” the bartender said, “did you see Raiel on the way here? He sent a text that he was running late because the baby yucked all over him but he’s still not here.”
“I haven’t seen him today,” the wolf shook his head.
He looked vaguely familiar. Who did he remind me of ?
I pondered the question while sipping my red blood wine and he ordered a mug of beer from the tap.
Xenos of the Nightshade Bears maybe? No!
It was his father! Zigmore. The wolf obviously wasn’t Zigmore but he had a bit of his look to him.
Only, no kid raised by Xenos would order beer from the tap.
At least, not the Xenos I knew. Though, that was well before he met the elf-wolf he was with now. Bart or something like that.
“I’m changing your destiny, sorry,” Mori said.
“Huh?” I blinked at him about to tell him that was the worst pickup line I’d ever heard but before I could speak further he dumped the beer down the front of my shirt as soon as the bartender slid it to him.
“MORI! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” the bartender snapped.
My blood boiling, I slapped him across the face. Once might’ve been an accident but twice in one night felt like Pierce forgot to warn me that his mate put up with anti-vampire sentiments in his bar. Mori stared at me with big, shocked eyes as if I were the one acting out of sorts.
“I… uh…” Mori said, raising his hand to where I’d slapped him.
“I’m—” I started but stopped myself.
My gums itched. My fangs threatened to elongate.
It would be so fucking easy to devour this wolf.
He’d put up a fight. The fox shifter behind the bar would try to help.
Maybe the other dragons but not many of them would hold up against the ways I could calm their minds.
I could eat Mori and then I could eat the rest of them.
I could literally paint London red with their blood.
I had to get out of here! Right now! Mori tried to grab my arm as I slid off the bar stool, but I managed to avoid touching him.
Everything inside me knew he’d be a tasty meal.
I pushed my way past the gape-mouthed onlookers and into the cool air of the fall night and right into the black t-shirt clad muscular chest of another man.
Not in the mood to talk with my heart pounding in my ears eating up my blood reserves, I hissed at him, showing off my fangs.
He grinned at me when I looked up at him.
He was a fucking giant. What sort of dragon was he?
Elven-dragon? He had pointed ears behind the long dark hair.
Not a dragon. Not a dragon at all. Smelled a bit like dragon, though.
I breathed in wondering why I wanted to sink my fangs into him too.
The world froze around us. Everyone kept shouting.
My slapping the rude ass wolf must’ve unleashed chaos inside the bar.
The music kept pounding but everything else stopped as his primordial feline scent settled into my mouth.
Mine.
This one was mine. This one with the dark brown hair that would fall like a mane if I only pulled it out of the low ponytail.
His eyes were that of a big cat staring me down through slitted pupils.
His heartbeat thrummed in my ears and the scent of his arousal and of his claiming gland filling up with the clear magical fluid that would aid in our claiming vows filled my head until my insides spun.
His blood sang to me, drawing me in. Rage still pulsated through my veins but the line between rage and lust is written in pencil.
It surged through his veins, traveling through his strong, pounding heart muscle.
Keeping him alive and already hardening his dick.
I didn’t need to look down at his black jeans to know he was hard.
His scent said it all. Every last bit of it.
I’d sink my fangs into him eventually. I needed to open my mouth and say something – anything before he thought I never had the ability to string a sentence together.
Only my fangs were out and if I opened my mouth, I’d bite him.
Why had these fucking bar bugs doused me in drinks?
Oh, the hell with it! I lunged forward, needing the blood and he smelled so damn good.
He was also the least likely person to attempt to beat me into pulp or call the guards.
The lion dodged catching my face in a big, strong hand and gazing into my eyes.
I thought he’d push me away. Not all furry shifters were okay with their vampyric mates feeding on them, but my heart broke a little anyway. My true-mate would turn me away?
He held up his other hand before slipping his phone into his pocket.
Then he led my face to his free wrist and pressed it to my lips.
A crowd had gathered around us and one of the bouncers asked if he needed help but if he answered I didn’t hear him because I’d already sank my teeth into my mate’s wrist. His blood oozed warm and honeysuckle sweet into my mouth.
He let go of my face and held my hair instead as I fed from him.
My heart thudded in time with the pounding of his pulse sending a flow of his delicious blood into my mouth. He hadn’t denied me after all.
The bartender was trying to explain all the drinks that were spilled on me and how I slapped the dogshit out of the wolf, but his scent didn’t seem too interested in what the other man said.
He didn’t know none of that mattered now.
None of them did because my mate didn’t bother wasting his words on them as I drank my fill.
It was hard to pull away before the blood turned thinner and watery because I’d taken too much but I stopped when it was still coppery and rich.
He pulled my head up to meet his gaze. My face was covered in his blood, and my fangs were still out.
He leaned down and licked a drop from my cheek.
His blood rushed through me, fueling the blush he pulled to the surface of my skin.
He let go of my hair and a second later I found myself hoisted over his shoulder and running down a London sidewalk.
How much blood had I gotten on the borrowed shirt and would it even matter later? Did any of it matter?
I wasn’t sure of the answer as my alpha shoved a hand in his front pocket and a second later a car beeped a little high pitched zip sound.
Sure, I’d arrived in my own car, but I could pick that up later.
Pierce’s mate wouldn’t have me towed away.
He opened the passenger door and slid me inside.
I grabbed his face and pulled him in for a long kiss.
If my fangs scared him, he didn’t show it.
His tongue plunged into my mouth that still tasted of his blood.
I held onto him, twirling my tongue around his and chasing it back into his mouth filled with sharp teeth.
A thrill of delight surged through me. I wasn’t the only one playing with a deadly mouth.
“Seatbelt,” he said, pulling away from me.
I started to put it on, but he gently pressed both of my hands to my stomach and did it for me before shutting the door and circling around to the driver’s seat. He started the car without ever telling me where we were headed.