“He’ll have a Coke. And can I leave him here for a second?”
She glanced at him again as she filled a martini glass with a dark red liquid and handed it to me. I couldn’t tell where she’d poured it from, but when I felt that it was warm, I decided I was better off not knowing. She cracked open a can of Coke and placed it on the bar, along with a glass of ice and a cocktail napkin.
“He gonna be trouble?” Her head tipped to the side, and she stared at him like he couldn’t hear her. I had to wonder what kind
of a state people were usually in when they came here.
I sipped the blood out of the martini glass and waited for Nolan to look at me. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until he nodded and sat on the stool nearest to us.
“No,” he told her. “No trouble. ”
The bartender seemed surprised to hear him speak but left it alone.
“I’m looking for someone,” I confided to the girl.
“What kind of someone?” She leaned her hip against the prep counter behind the bar and crossed her arms over her chest. She had a lot of spirit for a human working in a vampire bar.
“Someone who knows things. ” This was where my plan got a little hazy. I hadn’t expected to get so far without resorting to bloodshed. Since I wasn’t sure who I was here for or what I needed to ask them, I didn’t know how to be more specific.
But vampires love their vagaries, and the bartender was no stranger to this. Speaking to some vampires was like playing a frustrating version of charades, and this girl played the game like a pro. She pointed to a lone booth at the end of the room whose curtains were drawn.
I thanked her, placed a twenty on the bar and rubbed Nolan’s shoulder as I passed. “I’m coming back,” I promised.
I hoped I wasn’t lying to him.
Chapter Twenty
There was no way to knock and no guard to announce me, so I cleared my throat loudly as I parted the curtains and stepped into the booth. I was so taken aback by what I saw I almost tripped and fell backwards down the steps.
A spectacular-looking redhead, her hair straight instead of the halo of curls I remembered it being last, was nestled up to an equally striking brunette. The picture they painted was so intimate it made me blush.
“G-Genevieve?” I stammered.
The redhead opened her big violet eyes and grinned at me a little lasciviously. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she purred.
Genevieve Renard was the absolute last person I would have expected to find in the booth. She was a were-ocelot. Their queen, in fact, and no one would doubt her royal claim if they looked at her. Genevieve was just about the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
But that was before I’d seen the woman she was with.
Righting herself from the embrace of the feline queen, the other woman glanced up at me, her eyes the sleek black of a vampire longing to feed. Her hair was so dark it was the color of charcoal, and her skin had probably been its current shade of ivory when she was human. Her features were dainty, and everything from her makeup to her clothes screamed sophistication. She was the one I was here for.
“Secret,” Genevieve cooed. “Do you know Rebecca?”
I shook my head, still not quite able to form words.
Even with both of them fully clothed, I felt like I was interrupting something very personal. And judging by the miffed expression on Rebecca’s face, I wasn’t wrong. Genevieve pressed against the vampire, brushing her nose up Rebecca’s neck and nibbling playfully at her ear.
“Say hello,” the ocelot queen instructed. I didn’t know which one of us she was speaking to, but it couldn’t hurt to assume it was me.
“Hello,” I said to Rebecca.
“Bonjour,” the vampire replied, her French accent evident in every syllable.
I was always intrigued by vampires with accents. Some, like Rebecca here and the Southern belle upstairs, maintained the accents they’d had in their human lives. Others, like Holden, seemed more suited to adapt to the new world they lived in. Though he’d been born in England, he’d been in America for over a hundred years, and I rarely heard him say anything that hinted at his history. It must have been a decision for them, to adapt or to keep that part of their human life.
Rebecca had clearly decided to stay French.
“I’ll leave you two,” Genevieve said, placing a kiss on the vampire’s mouth before rising to her feet. As usual, she wore sky-high heels. Her dress was simple and red and shouted dangerous curves ahead. She stood next to me and kissed each of my cheeks, then pouted a little. “Trouble in paradise?”