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Let’s Make A Deal
Shadow
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The bright lights of the diner made her hair glow extra bright red. I’d never seen hair that shiny before.
“What? Do I have something in my hair?” Bloome asked, reaching up and running her fingers through it.
I cleared my throat. “No.”
“Then why are you staring at it?” she asked, setting her menu down.
Because I want to grab it in my fist and yank your head back while I fuck you from behind.
At my lack of response, she shook her head and looked down at the menu. “You’re weird.”
“Are you ready to order?” the server asked as she appeared at our table.
“Cobb salad, side of ranch,” she replied.
The young lady then looked at me. “You, sir?”
“You serve liquor?” I asked, running my fingertips over my beard.
“Yes, what can I get you?”
“Just a bourbon, neat, honey,” I replied.
She wrote it down and said, “No food?”
“No, I ate earlier,” I replied.
After the woman walked off with our orders, I looked at Bloome.
She made a face. “I bet you did.”
Chuckling, I said, “I did. Blood is food. I didn’t lie.”
“Gross,” she replied with an exaggerated gag noise.
“Like you guys don’t use blood in your spells. Don’t act like it grosses you out, sweetheart.”
She lifted her chin. “We don’t ingest it.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
She sighed dramatically, then folded her hands together before placing them on the checkered tabletop of the old-fashioned diner. “What do you want, Shadow?”
“You can call me Craig. But only because I like you,” I said, throwing her my most charming smile.
Her eyes bounced to my cut and nametag, then back to me. “Such an ordinary name for guy like you.”
I chuckled. “Well, thanks. I think.”
She shifted in her booth seat, stretching a long, pale thin arm along its length while staring at me. “I had pegged you as a Joe or a Thor.”
“Well, Craig was quite the fashionable Irish name in 1931 when I was born.” I tiled my head and smirked at her. “I’m sure my parents set a trend with it.”
Her eyes went wide, and she almost choked on her water before setting it down. “Nineteen... what?”
I laughed again, offering her my napkin to wipe the water dribble all over her chin. “I said what I said.”
“Fuck, you’re old,” she said, taking the proffered napkin and cleaning up the water.
“I’m aware,” I said, still grinning at her reaction. “How old are you, anyway?”
She set the glass down and stared at me for a few uncomfortable seconds. “Twenty-six.”
“Well, you’re older than me, then.” I winked at her.
She furrowed her brow, those reddish eyebrows dipping together. “How do you figure?”
“Your bourbon. Neat,” the server said, setting down the glass. She looked at Bloome. “Food’s almost out.”
I thanked her then ran my fingertip around the rim of the glass. “I was turned at twenty-four. So... that makes you older than me.” I was well aware these were irrelevant details, I just wanted to mess with her. She seemed to get riled easily, and ruffling Bloome’s feathers seemed to become a new favorite hobby of mine.
I’m such a dick...
“You’re as old as dirt. So, I’ll just call you ‘old man’ from now on. How’s that?”
I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Fine by me, red.”
“That’s not something you’re going to keep calling me, dude. Seriously stop it.” She set her jaw and sat back in the booth with her arms folded across her chest. A very nice chest, I might add.
My eyes drifted down to the black half-shirt she wore, showing the swell of her tits, her smooth, pale stomach, and cute bellybutton her jeans almost hid. I licked my lips and looked up into her impossible blue eyes.
“But you’re so cute when you’re angry,” I supplied.
“I’m not angry,” she countered, narrowing her eyes at me, that V between her eyebrows belying her words.
“I call bullshit,” I said, picking up my bourbon and shooting it back in one shot. It burned going down my throat and I sighed in contentment. I just wished I could get catch a buzz at least from one drink. Ah, the good old days...
“Bullshit about what?” she asked.
The server set her salad and dressing in front of her. “Anything else, ma’am?”
Bloome shook her head. “No, thank you, Tracy, I’m good.”
I just now noticed the server’s nametag and felt like an ass for not addressing her by name earlier. I had become too accustomed to dismissing humans anymore. I supposed I shouldn’t do that and vowed to do better.
I watched Tracy walk off and then said, “You are pissed. Your eyes get this stormy look, and then your forehead wrinkles and your lips set together firmly when you’re mad.”
The forkful of salad paused at her lips, and she dipped those brows again, seemingly in question. “You don’t miss a detail, do you?”
I shook my head and plucked a toothpick from the container set on the table. I twirled it between my fingers before saying, “No, sweetheart, I do not.”
She shoveled the vegetables into her mouth and stared at me as she chewed. There was defiance and amusement dancing in her gaze, and I felt my dick rise to attention. Why was her sass turning me on?
After swallowing, she said, “What do you want, Craig?”
“I need your help,” I replied before placing the toothpick between my teeth.
“With what?” she asked, drizzling the last of the dressing onto her salad and then mixing it around.
“How powerful are you?” I asked.
She looked up from her stirring, the fork frozen in place. “I’m a lesser witch if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be a greater witch in about four years.”
My chewing of the toothpick stopped. “The fuck does that mean?”
She shook her head with a laugh. “It means I have powers, and know spells, but I’m limited.”
“I see,” I replied, nodding. “So, you can’t undo a werewolf curse?”
She started coughing and almost choked, the salad threatening to expel itself out of her mouth. She swallowed what I assumed was a bite that wasn’t ready to be swallowed, and then replied, “No. Hell no.”
The half-shirt she wore was some sort of tank top and I looked in amusement as a cubed tomato fell right into the crack of her cleavage. A stray lettuce leaf sat on the swell of her right boob and I pointed at it. “Need help with that?”
Bloome glanced down and quickly swiped up the food, dropping it into her salad bowl. For the first time, I saw a blush steal across her pale, freckled cheeks. “No. No thanks.”
“Well, do you know any witches who are powerful enough to undo a werewolf curse?” I asked, staring into her light eyes to avoid looking at her tits again. I was hoping I’d get to see them free and bared for me at some point.
She set her fork down and placed her hands in her lap. “Why?”
“Not your concern. Just asking,” I replied.
She shook her head. “Not my concern... it sure as hell is my concern. Why would you want to undo a werewolf’s curse? I thought y’all were natural enemies and all that jazz.”
Yep... she was right. How would I explain this one?
I blew out a breath and rubbed my hand over my beard before folding my hands on the tabletop. “We are. It’s just that we actually have this ally wolf... well, he’s more of a friend... and he’s a Nighthawk. So, we’d like him to—”
She cut me off, her hand in the air. “Wait, wait, wait.” She grinned, shaking her head. “So, you have a werewolf in your vampire biker club? How the hell did that happen?” she asked, looking very amused.
I had always prided myself on being tight-lipped and today I was kicking myself. What was it about this witch that had me thinking about the loose lips sinking ships adage?
“Yes, we do. It’s a long story, and not mine to tell and all that,” I defended. “Bottom line—I hate wolves and wish for my friend to just be a human. Or a vampire if he chooses.”
“Why do you hate wolves? I mean, I guess if it’s a natural enemies thing like you said—”
“It’s not that,” I snapped. Then I calmed down. “I’m sorry. Well, can you?”
She shook her head. “Okaaaay. Well, regardless, if he’s natural born, there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.”
Disappointment flooded me. I wanted to bring back good news to Viper, and more importantly, Venom. “Understandable. But do you have any idea how the werewolf first came about?”
She nodded. “It’s pretty simple and a little cliché, to be honest.” She smiled despite the conversation and looked down into her half-eaten salad. “A woman burned by a guy.”
I’d read something similar but wanted a witch’s take on it.
“Go on, red,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me but didn’t correct me. “Our lore tells us that a witch named Althea was in complete and utter love with a man named Mathias. He was good to her until he wasn’t. When he cheated on her, she went berserk. Sold her very soul to the devil to create a spell that would curse Mathias to turn into a feral beast at every full moon.”
“Wow, a woman scorned takes on a new meaning,” I joked.
Bloome grinned. “You’re exactly right. Althea was pissed.”
“But why a wolf?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged one pale shoulder. “Apparently, a wolf howled in the distance as she was performing the spell and that was the animal she chose. To top it off, all women who fell in love with these creatures and became impregnated would give birth to wolves as well. Even if they were human.”
“Harsh,” I replied, suppressing a shudder. But... at least they could reproduce. I’d have to turn someone—an adult—to have some semblance of an offspring, and there was no fucking way I’d do that.
“Very,” Bloome replied. She tossed her wadded up paper napkin into the mostly eaten salad and sat back. “Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
The server brought the bill and set it on the tabletop. I snatched it up and plunked my card on top before Bloome could even blink.
“But you didn’t even eat,” she argued, pointing at the bill.
I shrugged. “Yeah, but that bourbon wasn’t cheap.”
She stared hard at me, her eyes reflecting something between curiosity and lust. “Is that all you asked me here for?”
“For the most part,” I replied, twirling the toothpick between my fingers as I refused to break eye contact with the beautiful, sassy witch.
“Okay... what does that mean?” she asked, matching my stare.
I paused, knowing I should take the slow approach but also wanting to get a rise out of her. “It means I also asked you here because I want to fuck you and hear you scream my name as I make you come. But if you’re not down for some skin on skin, or mouth on pussy, we could do some other shit, like go play mini golf.”
Blue eyes wide, she gasped, and I watched in amusement as she quickly recovered with a sassy smirk. Sucking in a deep breath, she said, “Let’s try mini golf first. If you’re not a total prick during, and you don’t cheat at the game, then maybe we’ll fuck. Deal?”
I grinned and tossed the used toothpick into her dirty salad plate before it was whisked away by Tracy. “Definitely a deal.”