Imagine a vampire bar set in the Twilight universe, only way angstier. That’s The Lair.
If it wasn’t the only vampire bar within comfortable driving distance of Section 8, Gabriel would definitely choose to feed elsewhere. But given the circumstances, he’d take what he could get.
The Lair looked like an old Dracula movie’s prop department puked all over it. There were black and red velvet curtains and booths, chrome tables, and gothic candelabras and sconces as far as the eye could see.
It was tasteless and pathetic, much like the patrons who frequented the place.
Vampire bars were the perfect feeding ground for demons because the humans there were not only accepting of otherness, they were anxious to encounter it. Some humans, especially ones with no magic in their bloodlines, were naturally repelled by supernatural creatures, even if they had no idea why. It was some kind of gut-level, self-preservation instinct, Gabriel assumed.
But no one here had even a hint of self-preservation instinct, because they were practically begging the few actual vampires in attendance to drink from them.
Gabriel fought the urge to curl his lip up in disgust as the black-clad, cape-wearing, desperate humans vied for attention from vampires, hoping beyond all hope that one of them would offer eternal life.
Eternal life. He snorted. It wasn’t the prize humans assumed it was.
And drinking blood was repulsive. Gabriel failed to see what any of these people thought was romantic about ingesting it.
That was actually the one bit of elegance that demons had over vampires. Demons could absorb energy and emotions through touch, without doing any damage to the human. Gabriel could feed without anyone ever knowing he’d done so.
Which is what he planned to do here, right now, because he was starving.
He leaned back against the bar and took in his options.
Two men to his left seemed to be competing for a blonde’s attention. They were desperately trying to one-up each other with stories of their successes, while she did her best not to appear bored out of her mind.
But he wasn’t especially excited about feeding on desperation and boredom, so he shifted his gaze past them to two women who were arguing. Gabriel took a deep breath. One was angry. The other was remorseful.
Anger and remorse were better than desperation and boredom, but still…he’d rather hold out for…
His eyes locked on a tall brunette at the end of the bar who was eyeing him like a starving woman sizing up a lobster dinner.
Lust. Yes. That would do nicely.
She straightened to her full height as he approached, eyes widening. Gabriel didn’t even bother with a greeting. He just held his hand out to her and cocked his head in the direction of the dance floor.
She licked her lips and let him take the lead.
As she lifted her arms and snaked her hips back and forth, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her lust grew stronger, thickening the air between them. Gabriel rested his hands on her hips and closed his eyes, pulling her energy into his body, forcing it through his veins.
It should’ve made him feel better. Satiated. But it didn’t.
She slid her hand up his thigh, and he felt nothing.
He opened his eyes and looked down into her upturned, hopeful face. She was lovely. Full, rosy lips. Thick, wavy, chestnut hair. Eyes the color of fine whiskey.
And he didn’t want her.
What the hell was the matter with him? He had a beautiful, willing, available woman in his arms, and he had no interest in doing anything with her other than a very utilitarian feeding. For all he was getting out of this, he could’ve fed off the desperate men, or the bored blonde.
That’s when something at the bar caught his attention and held it in a velvet vice. Or rather, someone. Someone who outshone every other woman in the place. Someone whose emotions were radiating out of her every pore and slamming into him.
Adrianne.
And she was feeling hurt. Jealous. Betrayed.
It suddenly made perfect sense to him why the woman in his arms left him completely cold.
Because the only woman he wanted in his arms was Adrianne. Adrianne, who was completely off limits. Adrianne, who deserved so much better than a bastard like him.
The song she’d played so expertly, their song, echoed in his ears. He’d never wanted anyone more than he’d wanted her in that moment as he watched her play.
Until now. He wanted her more now.
Gabriel sighed. He was so fucked.
Come to the bar with me, Benny said. It’ll be fun, he said.
Well, here she was, and Adrianne wasn’t having any fun. What was the complete opposite of fun? Whatever that was, that’s what she was currently having.
All she’d wanted was a drink and a little people watching to help her forget about her crappy visions and the fact that she now had to go back to demon hunting school to try and spark more crappy visions. She’d had to have Benny sneak her out of the house so her dad wouldn’t assign her twenty armed guards just to get here.
And now, here she was, watching some woman molest Gabriel on the dance floor while he had his hands all over her. Hands Adrianne wanted—more than anything—on her.
It made her so jealous she couldn’t see straight. And hurt, if she was being honest with herself. She knew he didn’t have feelings for her. (The odd bit of eye fucking they’d had lately didn’t count.) Not like she had for him. He technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. But still, seeing him grind on some woman on the dance floor was hurtful—even if it wasn’t at all logical for her to feel that way.
There’d been a moment, back at the training center, when she’d been foolish enough to think maybe things could be different for them. That maybe he could want her the way she wanted him. But now, looking at this, she had to admit her poor pathetic heart had been playing tricks on her.
Just fucking great.
Adrianne turned her back to him, grabbed her tequila shot, and slammed it back in one gulp. Next to her, Benny chuckled nervously.
“Hey, take it easy there, kiddo,” he said. “That was your third. I don’t really want to have to carry you home tonight.”
She raised a brow at him. “I’m a dhampyre, remember? I can hold my liquor.”
“I know. But your dad will peel my skin like an orange if he sees me bringing you home even the least bit tipsy. This was supposed to be a fun little outing, not a party.”
She sighed. “That was the last one.” Not like it would do her any good, anyway. She could get blackout drunk and still remember how it felt to see Gabriel’s hands all over some other woman’s body. If she couldn’t drink herself into amnesia, what was the point?
Benny laid a hand on her shoulder. “You OK, doll?” he asked gently. “I didn’t know he’d be here. I promise.”
Great. Even Benny knew about her stupid, unrequited crush. “It’s all good. Promise.”
She glanced up when the bartender plunked another shot down in front of her. He gestured to a guy at the other end of the bar and said, “From that dude.”
Adrianne gave the guy a good once-over. He was decent looking, she decided. Nice, thick, sandy-brown hair, angular jaw, probably about six feet tall. He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of expensive-looking jeans, and his smile was open and friendly.
He was the anti-Gabriel.
Well, who was she to turn down free booze?
Adrianne knocked the shot back and raised her glass to the guy with a smile.
Benny sucked in air through his teeth and winced. “Don’t do it, kid.”
“I’m not a kid,” she answered automatically.
“Yeah, but…don’t do it.”
“Do what? Have fun with a guy who actually wants me instead of pining like a lame-ass loser for someone who’ll never be mine?”
Benny blinked at her, and she blinked back. Damn it! She hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Maybe four tequila shots was too many, after all.
“Hi.”
Adrianne whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Anti-Gabriel, who, as it turned out, was even better looking up close. Well, hell’s bells. Maybe this night wouldn’t end up so awful after all. “Hi,” she said back.
“I’m Mike,” he said.
“Adrianne.”
His smile grew. “That’s a beautiful name. Want to dance, Adrianne?”
“Bad idea,” Benny said behind a cough.
She ignored him. “Sure, Mike. I’d love to.”
To hell with unrequited crushes, psychic visions, and stupidly hot demons who got hands-y with random chicks in vampire bars. Tonight was all about tequila, dancing, and…whatever else she wanted to do with the perfectly nice, handsome, human guy who was currently leading her out onto the dance floor.
Screw you, Gabriel Malek. Screw you.