Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Never go back on a deal that’s been struck.
ALISTAIR
I arrive at the Naked Fang, nearly tripping over my feet in my eagerness to see Celine. The pull toward her is undeniable.
My eyes dart around the club, but Celine isn’t in the main room, so I head for the bar, studying Luca as I go. I know the second he spots me, because his face loses all expression. How far can I push him before he laces my drink with marinara sauce?
Celine and Luca are a package deal. I know that, but they have to reach that conclusion on their own.
Since they’re both stubborn and I’m an expert in curating alliances, it falls on me to steer them in the right direction.
If everything goes according to plan, Luca will thank me for my generous spirit . . . just probably not tonight.
“The usual?” he asks. The question sounds like the crack of a whip.
I nod. “If you have the time.”
He grinds his teeth, and I swallow my amusement. “You’re angry with me,” I observe.
Luca rattles the shaker ferociously, then slams it on the bar, his blank face replaced by a glower. “I don’t know why you would think that.”
I hide another smile; his jealousy is entertaining. “It could be the vicious way you’re preparing my drink,” I say. “Or maybe it’s that I’ve rarely seen your handsome face marred by such a horrific scowl.”
The scowl deepens, yellow flickering in his eyes—a clear warning. I glance down; half convinced the basilisk powers he doesn’t know I know about will turn me to stone before I get that “thanks.”
“I can’t control my face,” he snaps.
“That’s scary,” I tease. “Should I fear for my life?”
“I won’t hurt you.” Luca pours my drink into the glass. “Not here at least,” he clarifies.
I sigh, take the Blood Tide from him cautiously, then meet his eyes while considering how to calm him. Being frank with anyone makes my skin crawl, but we won’t get anywhere if his basilisk is running the show.
“Luca, I’m not trying to take her from you,” I begin.
“You couldn’t if you tried,” he snarls, then rakes a hand over his face. “Fucking fuck. What I meant to say is that she’s not mine. She’s also not a piece of rope to be tugged back and forth between us.”
I nod, fully in agreement with the spirit of that statement, except I wouldn’t mind passing Celine back and forth before working together to drive her wild.
“I’ve never understood that ridiculous human game.
Fighting over a piece of rope is a waste of energy for everyone involved. ” Please, Luca, read between the lines.
His eyes flicker, and I sip my drink calmly.
I sense Celine coming before I see her. She comes to a stop next to me at the bar, and I wrap my arm around her waist and inhale deeply. Her scent is lovely.
“I’ve missed you, angel,” I say, kissing her temple. I sense her surprise, but she doesn’t show it. Celine has been part of the fringe community long enough to perfect her poker face. “I have some information for you.”
The second part is only for her ears. She smiles widely up at me. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Ciprian wedges himself in on my other side. “If it isn’t the happy couple,” he says.
“I’ll tell you later,” I whisper in Celine’s ear, grinning when she shoots Ciprian an annoyed look.
“As I was saying, Alistair, I’m dying for some alone time.” She’s making a dig at Ciprian, but it sounds like a promise to me, anyway. Goosebumps creep up my arms.
“Can I get a drink, Luca?” Ciprian asks confidently, ignoring Celine and me, even though he should feel put in his place. I’m not sure anything makes him uncomfortable.
Luca smirks, then shakes his head—as if he isn’t sure why he finds it funny. “Coming right up.”
“He didn’t order anything,” Celine says.
Ciprian shrugs. “Luca never leaves me thirsty.”
Red splotches pop up on Luca’s olive-toned cheeks, and I raise my eyebrows when he focuses entirely on the drink he’s making and doesn’t threaten to throttle the troublemaker.
I’m a simple drinker. I prefer to order the same thing every time rather than branching out and ending up with an unpleasant surprise.
Whatever Luca is making is the opposite of simple.
By the time I watch him add gin, honey, and a sprig of something green to the shaker, I’m lost. From the way Celine stiffens at my side, she notices too.
Luca coats the rim of a martini glass in sugar, and Ciprian nudges my shoulder. “He knows all about my sweet tooth,” he says.
At that, Luca rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the gesture. “For my most high-maintenance customer,” he mutters.
Ciprian puts one hand on his heart and grins. “Thank you,” he says. “For the drink and the compliment.”
I can’t help myself—I chuckle. He’s quick-witted, I’ll give him that. Like the night we showered Celine in tips together, I find myself surprised to enjoy Ciprian’s company.
His humor is sharp and practiced. I suspect that he cultivated his ability to laugh in situations that would have made most people cry. It’s an assumption, but I’ve built a profitable business around my ability to read people.
“I think someone offed Roscoe,” Ciprian says conversationally, sipping his drink and glancing between the three of us. Celine freezes against my side, and I raise one eyebrow. There’s much more to Ciprian than meets the eye.
“I don’t know who that is, but what makes you think someone killed him?” I ask.
Ciprian shrugs. “Can’t find him, and his voicemail is full.”
“That’s not much to go on,” I point out.
“Could be drugs,” Celine suggests. “I didn’t talk to him much, but he struck me as kind of off. Why do you care, anyway?”
Ciprian considers that, nursing his drink like we aren’t talking about a possible murder. “He’s a dick, but he’s useful for business.”
“And what is that business?” Luca demands. The question itself, combined with his tone, shocks me. It’s way too direct. Not at all how things are handled on the Fringes. Celine’s wings twitch, grazing my back.
“My boss wouldn’t want me to share that,” Ciprian says, his black eyes sharp as he studies Luca over the bar. “But if you stumble over a dead demon, let me know.”
Celine hums, the sound noncommittal. Tilting my head to the side, I face Ciprian and smile. “Of course. While we aren’t known for our transparency here on the Fringes, murder would be the exception.”
Luca grunts, and my senses tingle.
His stubborn antagonism. Her tense avoidance. There’s more to this than Celine told me when we struck our deal. Normally, this would infuriate me . . . but for some reason, the only thing I can think about is fixing this for both of them.
Gently, I tow Celine away from the bar, concerned her wings will give her away if I let this interrogation continue. “I’m on my break,” she whispers.
Nodding, I go to the storage room, pulling her inside and closing the door behind us. “You approached me for an alibi.” I face Celine, and she shuffles under my scrutiny.
“Alistair, I can explain . . .”
“You mistake me, angel. If you killed him—”
“It wasn’t like that, I swear,” she sputters, taking a step toward me.
I watch with fascination as the feathers of her wings take on the most fascinating shape, hundreds of blades shooting out from her back.
“Roscoe followed me after work and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He pulled a knife on me. There was no other option. ”
“Celine, let me speak, please,” I say firmly.
She backs away from me, glancing at the door. I frown. One step turns into eight. Her spine hits the wall, and her wings make a sound like wind chimes clinking in the wind. I freeze. My reputation demands fear from everyone else, but I don’t want it from her. It’s fundamentally wrong.
I clear my throat. “I don’t care who you killed or why. I pulled you in here to discuss how we fix it, not to berate you.” I approach her slowly. “Our relationship may be fake, but for now I’m your boyfriend, and that means I have your back. Do I need to dispose of a body, angel?”
The silence is loud. The sounds from the noisy club filter through the closed door, but we’re alone in here. Celine stares at me blankly. Then something changes. She pushes off the wall, and we collide, her lips fusing to mine.
I’ve imagined this moment a million times, and my body takes over, locking us into the hottest kiss of my life.
Celine buries her hands in my hair, pulling my head where she wants it.
I groan into her mouth, our tongues tangling.
Her lips are impossibly soft, but her touch is rough. Just as I hoped.
“Dammit, Alistair,” she groans.
I trail kisses up and down her neck, feeling immense satisfaction as her pulse races beneath my lips. “Don’t worry, angel. Let me please you.”
Celine pulls back, her face serious. “I don’t want to lead you on.”
“You could lead me to the monster realm with a bell around my neck and a slab of raw meat tied to my back and I would still follow wherever you lead,” I say blandly, kissing her perfect lips again.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about: I don’t want to hurt you.” She sighs, then yanks my head back to hers. Grunting, I lift her off the ground to erase our height difference, shivering at how tightly she wraps her legs around my waist.
“You’ve warned me,” I say, surging into the wall with my vampire speed. “Now fucking hurt me, angel. I’m at your disposal.”
“That sounds toxic.” She bites my bottom lip, and her right nipple slips free from her lingerie. We both glance at it. “Play with me, Alistair,” she demands.
Her order goes straight to my cock. I drop my head to tongue her nipple, licking softly, then rolling the tip between my teeth, determined to get an idea of what she prefers. Celine arches into me, her sweet gasp of pleasure music to my ears.
“Might I suggest a new deal, angel?” I graze my fangs carefully over the swell of her breast, soaking up the hungry little grunt she makes in response. “Friends with benefits.”
“We aren’t friends,” she argues, yanking my mouth back to her nipple. “Don’t be gentle, I won’t break.” Taking her for her word, I nibble the tip, then pinch the other one with no warning. Celine squeals and bites the side of my neck.
“I think we are friends, angel,” I say, grinding my cock into her pussy until I find an angle that makes her breath catch. “Gods, your tits are bloody amazing.”
She chuckles. The sound morphs into a moan as I increase my rocking motion, using the wall as leverage. “I don’t want more friends, Alistair. I want regular, leg-shaking orgasms. What I want is a reliable dildo.”
I pause, processing that, then roll my hips.
Even if her terms aren’t the most favorable I’ve ever negotiated, I’m too invested to walk away from this deal.
“One reliable dildo coming right up,” I whisper.
“I’ll even clean myself off after so you don’t have to make the difficult choice between tossing me in the dishwasher or lathering me up by hand. ”
Celine growls and yanks my head back to lock eyes with me. “Stop being nice. I’m taking advantage of you, and you’re letting it happen.”
“I know.” I grin at her. “You’re doing a magnificent job.”
She kisses me again, and I devour her—long, slow, thorough kisses, the kind that require coordinated timing and careful execution. I kiss her the way I’ve fantasized about since the first time I saw her put a rowdy patron in his place, my free hand playing with her nipple.
“I-I-I need,” she moans.
“I know,” I grunt, dropping my right hand between us and locking my gaze on hers. Her eyes are half-lidded, the warm brown consumed by her blown pupils. She leans forward and tries to kiss me again, but I shake my head. “Stay like this, please. All I want is your eyes on mine.”
Because we’re staring at each other, I get to experience the delicious rush of her reaction when I slip two fingers inside her and roll her clit firmly under my thumb. I want to play with her body for hours, but her break won’t last forever.
Celine clenches around me, her eyes glazed with pleasure. “Harder,” she says.
I give her exactly what she wants. Adding a third finger, I curl them until a string of unintelligible sounds leave her mouth.
When she gasps my name desperately, I lose it, adding a hint of vampire speed to my movements. Celine breaks beautifully, her eyes rolling back as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. She goes limp in my arms, panting wildly. I’ve never been this close to coming in my pants.
I carry her to a liquor crate and fix her outfit.
There’s a smudge of eyeliner under her right eye.
I wipe it away, making sure both sides are even.
Celine’s upper thighs are damp. I unbutton my shirt, then use it to clean her up, knowing she won’t want to dance with even a hair out of place.
When I check her face again, I find her watching me with an intense expression.
“What about you?” she asks, dipping her chin to my obvious erection.
With a grin, I put my shirt back on, wearing the damp spot on the front with pride. “The best thing about a dildo is that it will never demand you return the favor,” I say.
Celine laughs and hops off the crate. She surprises me when she rocks up on her toes to kiss my cheek, then walks to the door without a word, only turning to look at me when her hand is on the knob.
“Find me at the fight tomorrow,” she says. “We’ll have some fun, then talk after.”
She slips out, and the smell of her on my shirt holds my attention for the rest of the night.