What Bites in the Dark (Fangs & Flowers #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

YOU STOLE A PIZZA MY HEART

I’m soaked. Completely drenched. And not the good kind of wet either.

Not the he’s-so-panty-melting-hot-I’m-instantly-soaking-mine kind of wet.

No. I’m running in the rain. Again. And it’s a monsoon today.

My hair clings to my forehead and cheeks in sopping ringlets. Every time I brush one aside, another falls in its place. I huff, shuffling my feet to avoid a puddle.

Why is the bus station so far from my apartment?

It’s not. Not really. But it feels like it is right now.

To top it off, the weather was gorgeous this morning when I left the house for the first of my two shifts—one at the Gilded Bean coffee shop, the other at the H?tel Chateau Blanc. Never once did I think the sky would turn into some petty drama queen with a vendetta.

So, yep. No jacket. No boots. No umbrella.

Guess that'll teach me to check my weather app next time.

Not that I’ll remember. My brain’s already crammed full of work schedules and mental reminders to please make Casey grab groceries before we’re stuck with ramen. Again.

Just one more year.

One more year of smiling at rich people’s ridiculous coffee orders and working my ass off.

One more year of living with a roommate in a shady part of the city.

Then, I can finally fix up Grandma’s house. My house.

I hurry across the street, dreaming of a super hot shower to thaw out my now-frozen bones. Unfortunately, the puddle off the curb is way deeper than it looks, and I sink in up to my ankle.

Cursing under my breath, I fling every evil name I can think of at Mother Nature. I glare up at the sky, hoping she feels at least a little guilty.

She doesn’t. If anything, the rain comes down harder.

I shake myself off in an attempt to... what, exactly? It’s not like I’m going to get dry in this storm.

Someone honks, snapping me out of my mental pity party.

When I take a glance at my surroundings, I do a double-take at the neon red sign above my head: Fangerella’s Pizza.

It gleams in the darkness between buildings, its light reflected on the wet pavement, bathing everything in a warm, inviting hue—promising comfort and… deliciousness.

And somehow, through the downpour, I swear I can smell fresh pizza.

Huh.

Now why have I never noticed this pizza place here before?

I shrug, shaking the thought away. New businesses pop up all the time in the city. Besides, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Hot, delicious pizza will cure all my woes. Definitely an upgrade from the sad ramen waiting for me at home.

My stomach gives a low rumble in agreement, as if it, too, can already taste the buttery crust and ooey-gooey melty cheese.

Yep.

Pizza is absolutely better than instant noodles for the third night in a row.

Mind made up, I walk to the door and give it a push. Warm air and light instantly wrap around me, sending a shiver racing down my cold, soaked body.

The inside is oddly charming, in a retro kind of way. The floor is tiled in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern and spotless. So clean I bet you could eat off it. The walls are lined with hanging ivy vines, giving the space a weirdly cozy vibe.

Even though the place is small, there are several tables, a counter with a register, and a glass fridge stocked with bottled sodas.

It’s buzzing with noise and packed with customers, even this late.

That’s a good sign. Then again, anything is infinitely better than standing outside in the dark stormy night.

As I make my way toward the counter and the overhead menu, I realize I’m leaving a watery trail behind me.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A steady trickle falls onto the tile.

I wince. They’re definitely gonna need a wet floor sign after I leave. Oops.

As I’m reading the oddly ironic pizza names on the menu like Groovin’ with the Shroomin’ and No Onions, No Crying, it suddenly goes very quiet behind me, making the sound of my dripping somehow echo in the small busy place.

I glance around the restaurant finding everyone staring at me, completely silent. I, too, turn my head hoping there’s something going on behind me, but nope, just me.

It’s the first time I really register that the place is full of men. All men.

And they’re hot. Like, unfairly hot.

My eyes flick from one intense dark bluish gaze to another and a creeping sense of dread coils in my stomach.

Why are there this many hot men here? In this place? At this hour?

Goosebumps rise on my arms. I rub at them instinctively and glance down—only to realize my very white shirt is now very see-through.

And very much showing off my lacy red bra underneath.

Fucking fantastic.

Way to make an entrance, Kal.

“Anything I can help you with, Miss?”

The voice behind me is smooth and deep. Like honey dripping from a dropper in slow motion.

I whirl around and have to physically lock my jaw so it doesn’t hit the floor in a lovely impression of a fish out of water. Which is ironic, because I currently am about as soaked as one.

I forget why I even walked in here in the first place.

As if his voice snapped a spell, the place returns to life.

The hot men around the room all resume their conversations, the shop refilling with sound like someone hit play on a paused scene.

I glance around again, dazed, but no one is looking at me anymore.

The tension from seconds ago? Gone.

Like a pressure bubble popped and I’m just… normal again.

The man steps around me and behind the counter, and a fresh shiver crawls up my spine as his dark eyes settle on me again.

“Miss?”

Oh. Right.

He asked if he could help me.

“I… uh… have pizza questions.”

He raises both eyebrows.

Shit.

Can eyebrows be sexy?

Because his definitely are.

Perfectly shaped and sleek, like his shoulders in that very expensive suit.

Wait.

Who wears a suit like that—with cufflinks—to work at a pizza joint?

He leans his forearms on the counter, dark eyes locked on mine.

And I just… melt.

Oh, wait—nope, that’s still the rainwater dripping off me.

“What would you like to know?” His voice is deep, and throaty—the perfect pitch to seduce.

Having his full attention trained solely on me is… a lot.

It makes me acutely aware of the fact that my red lace bra is on full display beneath my see-through shirt.

I clear my throat and shift my weight to the other foot.

My shoe makes a soft splash in the puddle beneath me, but the man doesn’t react—he just watches me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

Okay then.

“Do you have any pizza options that are garlic-free? I’m not seeing the ingredients listed on your menu.”

I gesture vaguely at the board, little droplets of rain flinging off my fingers and scattering across the counter.

He raises an eyebrow again, only one this time, and somehow, it’s even sexier than both. A slow, dashing grin curves his lips, revealing straight, perfectly white teeth. With very sharp-looking canines. The effect is… roguish. Dangerous. And, against all better judgment, very attractive.

He chuckles quietly, almost to himself, as his eyes dip down, taking me in, inch by inch.

“Oh, Daisy,” he says smoothly. “You won’t find any garlic in this establishment. Ever.”

The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies erupting in my stomach, and I realize, too late, that my flower-shaped birthmark is visible through the soaked fabric of my shirt. Right above my bra line. Right over my heart.

It could look like a million different flowers, depending on your angle, but I’ve always liked to think it was a daisy. For reasons related to Grandma. Reasons I am absolutely not unpacking tonight.

Nope. Shutting that box right up.

Clearly, he noticed the mark.

And apparently came to the same conclusion.

Interesting.

His gaze returns to mine, steady and expectant, and I realize… he’s waiting for me to respond.

“Right. Well, see, the last pizza place said that too, and surprise! There was garlic in the sauce. They tried to sneak it in, but my body violently rejects garlic, and it was a whole disastrous mess the next—”

I cut my rambling off when a smirk appears on his face like he’s… amused.

Is he laughing at me?

I frown as he straightens to his full height. His long fingers move to his jacket button, unfastening it. Slowly. Methodically.

Still staring at me.

Oh.

My.

Panties.

They’d be wet if they weren’t already, you know, drenched from the rain.

Sure, Kal. Definitely just the rain.

“I promise you,” he says, voice like velvet, “no garlic has ever been present in this establishment. We’re completely garlic-free.”

He gestures toward a bench near the front door, perfectly positioned in full view of the counter.

“Have a seat over there, Daisy love, and I’ll have your pizza ready in twenty.”

I blink. “But you didn’t ask what I—”

“I’ve got it, love,” he interrupts, cutting me off with a tone that leaves no room for argument.

My brain sort of short-circuits at the pet name, again, and I shift awkwardly.

Well.

All right then.

He slides out of his expensive jacket, custom tailored, if I had to guess, and folds it neatly on the counter before slowly rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, like he has all the time in the world. His fingers flex with the movement and I stare, transfixed.

His gaze is locked onto me as well with an intensity that chases the cold from the rain, his dark eyes drawing me into their depths.

Now that his skin is uncovered I notice his muscled forearms are entirely covered in intricately detailed tattoos, though I can’t quite make out what they are from here.

I squint like an idiot, trying to get a better look.

“Sit,” he barks, his tone firm and unyielding. Then adds, more softly, “You’ll love it. I swear.”

I startle and quickly scramble to sit, almost falling on my ass in my haste. Then quietly grumble under my breath at how fast I obeyed.

Bossy much?