Perhaps he had an innate resistance to being influenced.
Savannah pushed up beside me and wrapped her arm around mine in a
way that immediately soothed my temper and aroused my body. “Please. My
friend is a bit of a brute, and I don’t think he was taking you seriously. How
about I pick one for him?”
The demon, whose sudden nervous eye tic indicated he might be worried
I would crush his skull, nodded. “Yes. Let’s try again. Of course.”
I waited while Savannah went to the shelves and quickly returned.
“That was mercifully fast,” I grumbled.
“I saw it earlier and thought of you.”
She handed it over, and the man lowered it in the dumbwaiter.
It came back moments later with a very full glass of whiskey.
He nodded and handed me the glass. I lifted it to my nose. The aromas
were bold—honey, almond, and charred oak, with a soft hint of vanilla. I
took a sip and let the warm liquid linger in my mouth. “This is excellent.
What book did you offer?”
The bookseller held up a book with a couple of sweaty, steroid-pumped,
bare-chested, and tattooed men on the cover. Taming Bad Alphas. He leaned
forward and whispered, “It’s from our very spicy book section.”
I clenched my fists tightly and glared at Savannah.
She smirked. “It got us in, right?”
The bookseller placed the books on the to-be-reshelved-rack, but she
stopped him. “Actually, I think we want to buy those.”
Then she looked at me expectantly.
The gall.
“Fine. Whatever gets us in.” I slapped a fifty down. “Where’s the bar?”
The demon bagged Savannah’s books, then strode over to a shelf of
historical fantasy novels and pressed an emblem carved in the side. The shelf
slowly swung open, revealing a dark stairwell. A couple of red bulbs
flickered to life, and the demon bowed. “Welcome to The Bookshelf. You