Tequila Sunset (Last Call #4.5) (6 page)
Read Tequila Sunset (Last Call #4.5) Online
Authors: Moira Rogers
Her demon nature had been the bane of her
existence for decades. Now it was the blessing that had given her
the strength to be everything Zack needed.
She lifted her head and stared down at him.
“Do you know why I was at Last Call tonight?”
He closed his eyes. “Because Leo’s little
girlfriend dragged you there, kicking and screaming?”
“
To save me from my dark
path.” She traced his lower lip with one finger and almost laughed
at the thought that a few short hours ago, salvation had seemed
absurd. “I don’t know what she saw. She wouldn’t tell me. She just
kept saying someone I would find at that bar would keep me safe. I
suppose I owe her an apology for doubting her.”
“
Dark path, huh?” Zack
nipped at her finger and growled playfully. “We could invite them
over for dinner. Leo and I have a lot in common, after
all.”
Iris blinked, unable to hide her surprise.
“You do?”
“
Mmm, we’re both hopeless
and very secret romantics,” he told her solemnly. “Have you seen
his face when he looks at that girlfriend of his? It’s the same way
I look at you.”
She had to close her eyes this time to keep
him from seeing the tears that threatened. “I won’t tell anyone
that my badass alpha wolf boyfriend is a secret romantic.”
His lips brushed her closed lids gently.
“You won’t have to, baby.”
Because he’d love her so completely that no
one would ever doubt it. It was more than she’d dared dream of, but
as she settled down into his embrace there was no room for doubt.
And for the first time in too many years, Iris didn’t drift to
sleep with the whispers of regret plaguing her. With even the
darkness inside her sated, there was nothing left but hope.
Wondering what other drinks are on the menu? Check out this
excerpt from
Last Call
wasn’t her usual scene.
Kelsey snagged
a menu from the end of the bar and thumbed the edge as she scanned
the offerings. She was used to clubs, all right—the carefully
orchestrated dance of the horny, the line between need and
desperation growing thinner with each passing drink. But she wasn’t
used to places humans couldn’t even enter, places where five grand
got you a drink and a room key.
Both very,
very special.
She trailed
one manicured nail past the initial categories—werewolves,
vampires, fae. The usual, she imagined, for a place like Last Call.
On the back, at the bottom of the page, printed in smaller letters
than the rest, was one last heading.
Other.
She smiled and
drained her whiskey. Amusing, if not flattering, that she was an
anomaly so rare there wasn’t even a category to include her, just a
catchall section at the bottom of a menu, right beside the
acknowledgment that parties of six or more would be assessed an
automatic gratuity of eighteen percent.
Frostbite:
Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.
Kelsey lingered over the words, licking her lips. It shouldn’t
be so damn
hard
to
get laid without having to talk, but even an anonymous bar hookup
required a modicum of conversation. If she spoke at all, her
potential partner was equally likely to follow her home, humping
her leg like a dog, or throw himself from a building to get her
attention.
Both had
happened before.
She leaned
forward before she could stop herself, sliding the menu toward the
bartender with one upraised eyebrow.
He followed
her finger toward the line she’d pointed to, then glanced up at
her, assessment in his dark eyes. “Siren?”
Kelsey tapped
her temple and winked.
He smiled
widely. “You know how it works?”
She handed him
her credit card and held her breath as she glanced around the club.
Half the patrons were staring at the bartender—at her—and she
suspected that even if no one was looking for sex, curiosity
demanded they watch what happened next.
The bartender
tucked her credit card under the counter and handed her a slim key
card before reaching up to tap the side of his earpiece. “Last Call
for the lady. Frostbite.”
The music
resumed with a thumping beat, and Kelsey turned to watch the crowd
as the bartender prepared her drink. Some were checking menus,
undoubtedly unfamiliar with the drink’s coded meaning, but several
men had already drawn free of the crowd, perhaps wondering exactly
what her brand of seductive magic was.
And whether
they could handle it.
The bartender
set down her drink with a murmur of encouragement. She picked it up
only long enough to take a sip—she hated cream mixed with her
liquor on the best of days, but she had to signal to the gathered
revelers that she was ready to go.
In every
way.
A suited
figure appeared at the bottom of the steps, a stern, unsmiling man
who watched her without expression. He stood there, tall and
severe, looking for all the world like a stockbroker who’d
accidentally wandered into the bar on his way home from a
meeting.
Kelsey wondered what he
really
was, under the twill and the frown.
Only one way
to find out. She slid off her stool and walked slowly down the
steps before stopping on the last one to study him. They were
nearly eye-to-eye because of the height difference and her heels,
and this close, he looked even harsher—
Unyielding.
She drew in a
breath. It could work, at least for a while...if she could get him
upstairs. So she leaned in, licked the corner of his mouth, and
shifted her mouth to his ear to administer her final test. A mere
whisper. “Take me here.”
“
No.” The man pulled back and studied her in inscrutable
silence as the crowd behind him watched avidly. Then he held up a
hand. “Proof enough?”
The denial
alone weakened her knees, and her cheeks heated as she offered him
the card key for the room. “Yes.”
He accepted
the key and her blush with the same calm acceptance, as if neither
her capitulation nor her arousal particularly surprised him. After
pocketing the key, he dropped a hand to the small of her back and
coaxed her from the steps. “Let’s go upstairs.”
She let him
guide her toward the elevator, and he’d already slid the card to
call it by the time she found her voice—and remembered she could
use it. “I’m Kelsey.”
“
Kelsey.” He had a low, smooth voice with the promise of rough
edges. It matched the neatly pressed suit wrapped around his hard
body. “I’m Cain.”
Of course he
was. A name as hard as the man himself. “It’s nice to meet you,
Cain.”
The elevator
door slid open, revealing their reflection in the polished back
wall of the car. He stepped forward, urging her along with that
uncompromising hand at the small of her back. “Do you come to Last
Call often?”
“
Occasionally. My first time upstairs, though.” The elevator
doors whispered shut behind them. “You?”
The corner of
his mouth twitched, and it was the most detached smile she’d ever
seen. “I’ve been upstairs before.”
“
Mmm.” Damn, but she was bad at small talk, probably because
she never got the chance.
She leaned
against the mirrored wall as the car began its ascent. Cain
certainly seemed like the answer, a man unmoved by anything, much
less her voice. And even though that was the point, it made her
perversely determined to rattle him before the night ended, to get
under his skin in a way that didn’t include magic.
He was hot.
She was aching.
Five grand—and
worth every penny.
The
Last Call Series
http://www.moirarogers.com/last-call
Werewolf in
heat, looking for a temporary mate.
Contents under magical pressure.
Experience required.
Werewolf looking for a
dominant.
Supernatural looking for a first
lover.
Werewolf looking for a
submissive.
Looking for a
partner immune to supernatural seduction.
Too hot to
handle--looking for a fireproof lover.
About the Author
How do you make a Moira Rogers? Take a former
forensic science and nursing student obsessed with paranormal
romance and add a computer programmer with a passion for gritty
urban fantasy. Toss in a dash of whimsy and a lot of caffeine, and
enjoy with a side of chocolate by the light of the full moon.
By day, Bree and Donna are
mild-mannered ladies who reside in the Deep South. At night, when
their husbands and children are asleep, they combine forces to
unleash the product of their fevered imaginations upon the page. To
learn more about this romance writing, crime fighting duo, visit
their webpage at
http://www.moirarogers.com
.
(Disclaimer: crime fighting abilities may appear only in the
aforementioned fevered imaginations.)
RETURN
TO...