Blood of the Veil (Veilblood Academy #1)

Chapter 1 Izzy

IZZY

One glance was all it took. A single look from eyes that danced like smoldering embers and my panties evaporated, my bra suddenly two sizes too small. Whoever this guy was, he was dangerous, in all the best ways.

“This guy bothering you?” he asked in a voice like searing silk as he leaned on the bar, one perfectly sculpted copper eyebrow raised.

His full lips tipped into a cocky grin, raising tanned skin over sharp cheeks.

A long mane of flame-red hair framed his sinful face, falling to one side as he tilted his head.

The man bothering me was Jason.

We’d had a one night stand a week ago and he wanted another round this week. He didn’t seem to understand the one night part of a one night stand.

I didn’t do seconds, or long-term relationships of any sort. But since I worked at this bar, it was easy for my previous paramours to find me, which Jason had.

“None of your business, buddy,” Jason snarked.

Both men looked to me.

“I’m not interested, Jason,” I said with fake civility. “Go home, before you do something you’ll regret.” The likelihood of such regrettable actions had grown with every beer he’d had.

I turned to the newcomer with literal fire in his eyes. Those had to be special contacts. “I’m good, thanks. What can I get you?”

“Fucking bitch!” Jason shouted, rising from the bar stool and swaying.

Apparently, we’d reached the point of regrettable actions.

I was about to catch the eye of Colin, the bouncer who kept post at one end of the bar, when the redhead laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“I believe you should apologize to the lady and leave.” The last word came as he deftly evaded a heavy-fisted punch from Jason.

Colin-the-bouncer was on the move.

The redhead stepped back, easily swaying from the path of a second punch. Then, with casual indifference, he grabbed Jason’s arm and tugged, causing Jason to stumble. My sort-of ex hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

I chuckled, shaking my head.

Groaning, Jason staggered to his feet and glared daggers at the redhead.

“You’ll pay for that, shithead!” Jason shouted, pointing at the redhead around Colin, who’d reached the drunk man. Seconds later, Jason was forcibly escorted out.

“Thanks,” I said as the mystery man — with eyes and hair like wild-fire — chuckled and sat down, turning that brash grin back to me.

Those intense, burning eyes looked at me like I was the only beautiful thing in the world. And unlike most men, this guy knew where my eyes were. His gaze never dipped below my neck.

Admittedly, I played the game. I got better tips when I undid a couple buttons on my slightly-too-small blouse than when I was fully covered up. Hence most men looked at my chest first. Either that or did a slow once over after some brief eye contact.

Men were pigs.

Most men.

Sad but true.

But this guy hadn’t broken eye contact once. That heated gaze drank me in, studying me in a way I’d never experienced.

Was it hot in here?

Like more than usually hot?

I was already sweating from hustling all night in a small room filled with warm bodies. Though, the increasing moisture between my thighs had nothing to do with perspiration and everything to do with this man.

I swept my hair back over an ear to get some air on the blast furnace that was my neck. I could have put my hair up in a ponytail, but my boss, Caroline, had told me when I started here that I’d make more money with it down. She’d been right.

Wait…

I touched my ear again. Was the top pointier than usual?

This again?

It was just my imagination. It had to be.

And yet, lately I’d noticed some strange — if subtle — shifts in my look.

Sometimes my ears felt pointier, like this.

Sometimes I could swear my sea-green eyes were a bit bluer or greener.

Sometimes my dirty blond hair seemed more blond, or darker than usual.

Since I couldn’t explain it, I ignored it, just my mind playing tricks on me.

Right now, whatever my appearance, this man was clearly into me. If he kept looking at me like that, I’d crawl over the bar and lick that brazen smile off his face.

Stop staring!

I didn’t know if I was talking to him or me, since I couldn’t seem to look away either.

Say something.

“What can I get you?” I asked again, turning away, breaking the tension of that gaze, and making a show of wiping a glass with my bar towel.

“Prairie fire,” he said. The silken tones of his voice sent shivers over my skin, every hair standing on end.

Of course a man with cinders for eyes would ask for a prairie fire.

I grabbed the tequila and tabasco and turned back. His fiery eyes were still locked on me… above the neck.

I tipped both bottles at once and measured with my eyes. Even with a reckless twist of my wrist at the end, the pour was exact. As always. Not a single spilled drop. It was my superpower.

I did a quick flip and flourish with the tequila bottle, because apparently I wanted to impress this guy. Then I put the booze away and slid the shot over to him.

He didn’t look at it, still staring at me: my eyes, my ears, my hair.

“What are you doing here?” he breathed.

Pretty sure no man had ever asked me that with quite the same emphasis. Was I not classy enough for this upscale bar? No, if anything I got the feeling he felt the opposite, like I was too good for this place.

Huh.

That was a bit much. I was okay with flattery, but I got wary when guys started worshiping me. I wasn’t looking for devotion, just a good time.

I took a mental step back, reassessing him… and myself.

Wow.

This guy had done a number on me. My throat was dry and my panties damp. My bra squeezed me in ways I wished his hands would, while my heart pounded so hard I had to be vibrating.

“Pouring drinks,” I said, brushing off his question and turning away.

“But you’re…” In my periphery, I caught his sidelong glance to check if anyone might overhear. “…a nymph, aren’t you?”

Say what now?

Did he mean a nympho, like… a sex-addict?

That had not been what I’d expected.

The nerve.

I mean… sure, I’d taken my fair share of men home for a good time, but I didn’t need to. It was just harmless fun every now and then. And I had standards: no pervs or assholes. Though a few of them seemed to become assholes after the fact, like Jason.

“Sorry buddy, you got the wrong girl,” I snapped back over my shoulder.

“Huh…” There was something in his tone: curiosity or wonder or confusion. “Yeah, sorry, my bad. Forget it.”

Damn right I would.

I heard the scrape of glass on the bar and glanced back to see him slam back the drink. Then he let out a long sigh, as if it had soothed him. This guy liked the burn, it seemed. Though given his look, that made perfect sense.

I looked away again… before he incinerated me with those eyes.

“Sorry… my mistake. I’ll get out of your hair,” he said. The vinyl of the stool squeaked. His feet scraped on the ancient hardwood floor. Leather sighed and paper brushed over the bar.

I looked back.

A twenty.

“Keep the change.”

This guy knew how to tip.

Honestly, I was a bit surprised he’d given up so easily.

Perhaps that hadn’t been adoration in his tone a moment ago?

If he tipped twelve dollars on an eight-dollar shot, perhaps everything he did was over the top.

He’d had me on the hook until he’d called me a nympho, and a part of me didn’t want him to leave, curious how hot he could make me.

“Wait,” I said, spinning around.

He’d already turned and taken a step but stopped, slanting a look back over his shoulder, raising one copper brow.

“What’s your game?” I asked, leaning on the bar.

The cocky smile returned, spreading into something sinful. His ember eyes twinkled with flames.

“You intrigue me,” he said as he returned and also leaned on the bar.

Close.

Too close?

Nope.

His scent filled my next breath: campfire smoke and chocolate, like s’mores. If that was a cologne, I’d never smelled it before.

I drank it in, remembering backyard fires with the Bloomfields. The memories were comforting, which was the last thing I expected from this man.

Also… I intrigued him? Not the word most men used.

“Oh?” I whispered across the not-quite inch of space between us. I wanted to tell him he intrigued me too, but I’d learned not to lead men on. Let them do all the work.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Ah— Rook.” Given the hesitation, it was probably fake. Whatever. “Yours?” He sat down again.

“Izzy.” My real name… sort of. Pretty sure it was short for something, I hoped it wasn’t Isabella, but I didn’t know for sure. Long story. “And why do I intrigue you?”

“You’re a mystery.”

I was, even to myself, but he didn’t know that. He’d known me for all of a few minutes, and I’d worked hard to create this easy-going persona.

“I’m an open book, ask me anything.” It was a risk. If he stayed nice and light, he had a chance, but he’d lose me if he went too deep.

“Favorite drink?”

“Merlot.” So far so good.

“Favorite food?”

“Chocolate with sea-salt and caramel.”

He rolled his eyes. “Original.”

“Like I said, open book. Let me guess, you like hot stuff?”

“You got me pegged,” he said with a laugh. “Hot peppers for savory, cinnamon for sweet.”

“Original,” I thew back at him.

He shrugged with a grin.

“You local?” he asked.

I’d lived here in Providence my whole life.

“Yup. You?”

“Out of town.” Another chuckle. “Feels like a whole other world.”

Probably New York. He seemed cosmopolitan like that. City life in the Big Apple probably felt like a different world compared to Rhode Island.

I loved how he kept things simple, telling me enough to keep me interested, but not enough to get invested.

“Family?” I asked, the word slipping out.

Fuck.

Too deep.

“No siblings, father’s passed, mom’s… well, you’d probably call her a sex-worker.”

His candor shocked me. I felt obliged to share something of equal value, so I told him something I never usually tell a man.

“I was an orphan, bounced around the foster system till I aged out three years ago.” Wow, that came out way to easy.

He nodded, but thankfully didn’t comment. My admission also didn’t scare him away. Instead, he went on about his family.

“Mom made sure I knew the ABCs of sex before I was ten,” he said with that slick smile.

“ABCs?” I had to know.

“Ass, Boobs, Clit.” His grin would have melted my panties if he hadn’t incinerated them earlier. “She used to say, ‘nothing’s worse than bad sex, so make sure you leave ’em wanting more.’ And I’ve lived by that ever since.”

That sinful smile widened as he slipped another twenty onto the counter. “Another prairie fire. No… two. Share one with me?”

I raised a brow.

Sure, why not. I wasn’t one for spicy things, but I was curious where this was going.

I reached back and grabbed the two ingredients without looking, my eyes never leaving this fascinating man. My turn to pin him down with my gaze.

He seemed to love it.

I poured two shots and pushed one over to him.

He raised his glass and I did the same, tapping his.

He downed his.

I followed suit.

Wow! Yeah, that burned. I suppressed a cough. The sting lasted only an instant. I’d always recovered quickly from spicy food.

He studied me as I put the glass down, his smile stretching his cheeks even more.

“You can handle some fire, eh?”

“I can handle your fire,’ I sassed back.

A shudder took him as his eyes dilated, a sliver of fire around a void of black. The rest of the bar faded away, just me and the flame-ringed abyss of his devouring eyes.

“Izzy,” he whispered. My name sounded like sin on his lips.

Shivers raced down my spine as heat pooled in my core.

“Naughty.” That word, followed by the slight lick of his lips, was a sexy sucker punch.

I couldn’t catch my breath. My head spun.

Flames seared through me as a tiny gasping moan escaped my lips.

I needed to take off some clothes, preferably his. It was too damned hot to be anything but naked.

“You live nearby?” he asked, voice low and sultry.

Already at that point, were we?

Screw it.

Yes, we were.

I’d slept with men far less interesting than Rook. I usually took home the sweet, handsome, lonely ones, boring but safe. Rook was anything but boring. One look and he made my entire body burn in a way I’d never felt before.

“Yup,” I said, pouring us both another round of prairie fires. “This one’s on me.” Might as well have a good reason for being this damned hot. I wasn’t worried about the shots going to my head. I’d always had a high tolerance for alcohol.

We picked up our glasses and clinked again. It didn’t burn quite as hard the second time. Maybe because the rest of me was a raging inferno.

“May I walk you home?” he asked. It might have been gentlemanly, if his eyes hadn’t been promising all manner of sinful delights.

“You may.”

Something told me I was in for a wild night.