Love of Enemies

Special Snowflake

My reanimated heart has never beat so fast. I'll have used up all my blood supply by morning at this rate. Vegas is really fucking far away from where Vex's clan is settled. Like, other side of the world, far away. That's actually great news for me. Means I won't accidentally run into these fuckers while I'm doing my job. Score another point for Dragon'smagical portal thing. No matter where you are in the world, you can always find The Dragon Roost's door. I should charge them for that slogan, actually.

"Wouldn't be caught undead there," I whisper, daring to lean back just a bit until my shoulders brush against him. No fucking clue what's come over me, but I'm rolling with it, mostly because the low grunt in the back of his throat sends sparks through me.

His hand whips up to my throat, and he cranes my head to the side, running his nose the length of my exposed neck.

"Look at that," he whispers. "A vamp with a death wish. I could have staked you fifty times already."

"Get on with it, then. Some of us have better things to do than wait around, listening to half-cocked threats."

He squeezes harder, claws erupting from his fingertips and digging into my skin. "I don't do anything half-cocked, princess."

Fuck, why was that so hot? My chest nearly caves in on itself with the force of my arousal. One word shouldn't make a person nearly die from lust. Especially not one so cutesy. I whimper, way more desperate than I mean to be, and his grip tightens.

"I can smell that, you know," he growls in my ear. "Didn't realize your kind got wet so easily."

"We don't," I squeak around his grip. "I'm a special snowflake. Turned on by over-inflated egos and empty promises."

He lets out a breathy laugh, squeezing even tighter until I can't breathe at all, sending waves of arousal right through me.

"Oh yeah, you like that."

"Uh...Boss, what the hell are you doing?" One of the other wolves whispers. "Thought we were going to, you know, run her off or something."

"Shut up, Luca." There's a dull thwack—skin-on-skin. "Do you need to blow your nose or something? Fuck."

There's another sniff, followed by two more, and mortification settles in my stomach.

"Oh," Luca says, clearing his throat. "That explains why Boss is—"

"Luca, shut the fuck up," the other one chuckles, and there's another skin-on-skin thwack from the other side.

"Stop hitting me, assholes," he grumbles before adding, "Boss, maybe we should take this somewhere else?"

"Mm," the boss says, letting the pressure go only slightly. "Good idea."

He doesn't even let me stand on my own, picking me up by my throat and dragging me over the back of the stool.

A few customers tense, but they glance at Tucker for guidance, who's watching us with complete boredom. The others aren't paying any attention, but that's normal. Anyone in here is trying to lay low for the most part, taking a break from whatever shit-stew the supernatural world has tossed us in for the moment.

I get my feet under me, but the boss guy is holding me against his body, just enough off the ground so I can still walk, but I'm absolutely not in control.

Maybe the dopey grin plastered to my face is the only reason Tucker doesn't call his voodoo guard into action. In fact, he looks like he's not surprised in the slightest, casting a furtive glance at the freaky, purple smoke again.

This is probably the most action Dragon's seen in a thousand years. If I could talk, I'd bark something about taking payment for their entertainment in blood bags, but death-grip-McGee and the goon patrol are walking me out of the main bar area into the narrow hallway off to the side.