First Sight [Diablo Falls]
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First Sight
A Diablo Falls Paranormal Short Story
Stephanie West
Contents
Introduction
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Also By The Author
About the Author
All rights reserved.
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Introduction
Welcome to Diablo Falls, where the world of the supernatural is out in the open, and where fangs, fur, and magic are the norm. Join the authors of Bite Club and meet those who are experiencing paranormal firsts in our growly, filthy collection of thirteen steamy “First Time” short stories.
Because we all know… you never forget your first.
Preface
It isn’t love at First Sight, or is it? Sparks fly from the moment Gwen and Tyr meet. And as much as they both resist, there’s no denying their fate.
Gwen had no clue who she was tempting with her smart mouth and scathing glances. Tyr wanted to put the fiery human in her place. She was hard to ignore, even before he discovered the secret in her blood, a secret that could alter the balance of power among vampires. Something had to be done to silence the maddening human.
Tyr was that pompous, overdressed man who frequented the bar. He had the sex appeal of a modern-day Norse god, but the personality of a Viking raider. It didn’t matter that Tyr radiated an unworldly power, Gwen refused to fear him. After all, he wasn’t the only one who was unique. And though he claimed good intention, his actions said otherwise.
First Sight is the story of how Gwen and Tyr meet, but it is only the beginning of their tale. They must first bridge the gap between them if there’s any hope of solving the mystery of who’s threatening humans and vampires alike.
Chapter One
Gwen
Gwen checked the temperature of the wine cellar, a perfect 52 degrees, before grabbing a few bottles of red. As she stepped behind the bar, she ran a hand along the smooth aged mahogany counter and cast a fond eye at the arched brick wall separating the two dining rooms. She smiled at the pockmarked brick. The old restaurant, aptly named The Cellar, had seen adventure in its time. According to the owners, Owen and Landon, the lasting marks were left by a prohibition era gun fight. If she squinted, she could almost see the gangsters and flappers strutting their stuff.
Adventure. Gwen sighed as she considered the place that had quickly become her home.
Adventure, or was it restlessness that led her to Diablo Falls? She’d traveled the States, tending bar to make ends meet until something inside her said it was time to move on. It had been nearly a year and for some strange reason she wasn’t feeling that same gnawing urge. It was hard to put her finger on. Diablo Falls wasn’t a thriving metropolis like she expected would keep her attention and yet something about the place drew her. Was it The Cellar, where she spent most her time? No. The bar was off the main drag, and didn’t attract a ton of tourists. The Cellar was hardly the life of the party, its best days ended with the roaring twenties. But the place did exude a warm, comfortable vibe without being too pretentious.
On the other hand, some of the clientele could be quite the opposite.
Case in point.
Gwen smirked at the man in question, one of their regulars, Tyr, as he entered. He was a CEO type, who always wore these mouth-watering bespoke suits. No doubt Tyr had more money than God. The imposing man reminded her of a clean-cut version of that hot blond guy in Sons of Anarchy. The problem was, he knew he was hot shit. His eyes always twinkled in his handsome chiseled face, though he rarely ever smiled. Confidence was sexy, but at a certain point it tipped the scale and just screamed epic asshole.
She watched the door, waiting for his entourage, or at least the ever-changing parade of women, but he was alone.
Maybe tonight he won’t take up a table for hours on end, like this is his damn office.
Gwen rolled her eyes when she heard April, the waitress, giggle while seating him. Sadly, it was all too genuine and bubbleheaded to be a ploy to get a better tip. Tyr gave April a close-lipped smile. It was hard to tell if he considered the young woman vacuous and beneath him or a potential easy lay. No doubt people pandered to him all the time. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone. Either way the smile was disingenuous.
Whatever. She turned to fill another order and help some patrons farther down the bar.
From the corner of her eye she noticed Rob, her fellow bartender, pouring something back into a bottle. When he turned away she took a better look. He’d been messing with an ancient bottle of cognac. Just a glass of the stuff was worth a small fortune, then again it was almost three hundred years old.
Odd. Her brow furrowed in concern, but before she could ask him what was wrong with it, a rash of customers came in and things got busy.
Gwen set new bottles of gin and vodka in their proper places then turned around. She repressed a shocked gasp seeing 'I'm too sexy' Tyr sitting at the bar. She hadn’t even heard him approach.
What’s he doing here? He never sits at the bar.
Despite being alone, he’d been here all evening as usual. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about the over-entitled man for long, it was almost closing time. Although that probably didn’t matter to him. Given his track record, he’d still make some outrageous demand.
"The kitchen is already closed, but how can I help you?"
Tyr’s flat expression shifted slightly, the muscle in his jaw flexing, letting her know he understood she wasn’t about to go out of her way to bend to his whims. Regardless Gwen pasted on her ‘how may I serve you’ smile.
"I'd like to order a glass of something." His icy gaze pinned her, but she wasn’t deterred.
"Would you like to see the drink menu?"
She noticed April at his vacated table picking up the tab. The waitress smiled, so clearly he'd tipped her well. Why was it men like him thought they could do anything if they threw enough cash around?
"No, I see what I want. I'll have the 1738 Clos de Griffier Cognac."
She glanced around but Rob was nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly taking another smoke break.
Of course he wants that damn cognac.
She should just serve it to the overbearing man and be done with it, but she didn’t have a chance to ask Rob what was wrong with it yet and didn’t dare risk Owen and Landon’s reputation.
Well, this oughtta be good.
"I'm sorry, sir, I can't serve that. I do, however, have a nice 1795 Renaud & Dualle.”
* * *
Tyr
Tyr stared down the bartender with dark green eyes and hair the color of spilt blood or a full-bodied wine. It was bad enough that she cast him looks like she was smelling sour grapes half the evening, now she refused to pour the cognac he ordered. The bottle was right there, and was more than half full.
She had no clue who she was screwing with. None of the humans in this restaurant did, at least not consciously. But they did sense the predator that lurked beneath his human facade. He threw off a vibe that warned men not to fuck with him, and either frightened women or called them, like a kitten to a saucer of cream. For one reason or another humans tended to fall over themselves to please him. However, this female either had no sense of self-preservation or had a death wish.
&n
bsp; With all the strange things happening in Diablo Falls, he didn’t have the patience for this. And he liked the bar, so he preferred to not bloody it up putting the human in her place.
Easy. Rein it in.
"No, I think I'll have the one I asked for." He pointed to the bottle, his voice laced with compulsion, a preternatural ability gifted to all Kindred and honed over time.
Tyr watched as her one delicate eyebrow rose. Her pupils didn’t change size in the least. The woman was totally unaffected and unamused.
What the fuck!
"And I said it’s not for sale. I’m sorry. Is there something else you'd like?"
She apologized, but the tilt of her lips said she was anything but sorry. She was enjoying this.
Damn the little shrew.
He’d been surprised seeing the vintage bottle of cognac, then again, the exceptional selection was what brought him to The Cellar.
Refusing to be swayed by whatever hissy fit this little woman was having, he replied, "How about you go ahead and call your manager."
* * *
Gwen
Well that's just great, she groaned.
Most people would assume there was a good reason for not serving the drink, but no, not this pompous ass. Tyr had to have exactly what he wanted. Rob sauntered through the back door as she buzzed Owen in the office. Owen came out and she waved him toward the wine cellar behind the bar.
"What's up, Gwen?" His head tilted seeing she was agitated.
"See that customer." She nodded rather than rudely point.
“Tyr?”
"He ordered the Griffier Cognac."
"That's good. I worried about the investment." Owen smiled.
"Yeah, except earlier I saw Rob pouring something into the bottle and didn’t have a chance to speak to either of you. Now the gentleman refuses anything else and wants to see you," she huffed.
"I see." Owen frowned and walked to the door. “Rob, a minute.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Rob joined them in the wine cellar.
“What were you doing earlier with the Griffier Cognac?”
“There was cork in the bottle. I strained it out,” Rob replied.
“Oh, good. I noticed you with the bottle and thought something was wrong. Sure enough someone ordered it, while you were on break,” she sighed, relieved nothing was wrong with the obscenely priced booze.
“No, it’s cool.” Rob nodded.
Well it looked like Richie Rich was going to get his way after all.
* * *
Tyr
Tyr listened to them talk through the glass as he sat in his seat at the bar. His tongue tapped against one fang impatiently. So, the woman, Gwen, wasn't just being bitchy. That still didn't excuse the less than flattering looks she'd been giving him. The owner, Owen, exited the wine cellar followed by the two bartenders.
"Sir, sorry about that. Gwen wasn’t sure the cognac was for sale, but she’ll be happy to pour the drink you requested."
Yeah, she looks real happy about it.
"Is she always so contrary?" Tyr asked as Gwen pulled the bottle from the locked case.
"No, sir. Sorry again for the misunderstanding," Owen replied, looking nervous.
Gwen poured two ounces into a snifter and set the glass in front of him, wearing a grating smile. He took a sip, then studied Rob who was clearing off tables. Gwen had been right; he should have ordered something else. Someone, likely Rob, had been mixing cheaper cognac into the expensive stuff.
Interesting.
Gwen looked at him like he was a mongrel off the street, but at the same time attempted to keep him from wasting his money. Rob had a pleasant enough demeanor but was clearly a cheat. Looks could be deceiving. Not that any of that shocked him. You didn't live as long as he had without coming across every manner of person.
Well it doesn’t pay to have a pissy attitude. He slapped cash on the bar and left.
He’d left the bar and said good riddance to the snarky redhead, and yet all the way home he couldn’t seem to let it go. The woman was a mash up of polar opposites. She obviously disliked him, but the question was why? She was attractive, if you ignored the attitude. But through the ages he'd seen beauties to rival the goddess Freyja, and met intelligent minds that would make MENSA weep. The glorified barmaid was hardly special. So why did he find himself preoccupied with her disdain or the fact that she was immune to compulsion?
Instead of going up to his penthouse apartment, Tyr hit the elevator button for the ninth floor. He owned the entire building, but only the top levels were occupied by his clan. He strode through the leather and mahogany parlor, glad to see no one was waiting outside the study where he handled Kindred business. He was in no mood this evening to settle petty grievances.
"Tyr, you had a call from Hawthorne while you were out," Sonja, his second in command, reported when he entered the office.
He sat in the leather wing chair rather than behind his desk and nodded for her to take the other one opposite the fireplace.
"Did he say what he wanted?" It was rare that he heard from his counterpart in England.
"Apparently a newly arisen ancient is threatening his human son.”
Well shit. Hawthorne took threats to his surviving family very seriously. Thankfully Tyr personally didn't have any family to worry about.
An ancient has arisen, he frowned. That was odd. He didn’t think there were many ancients rattling around anymore. Newly arisen ancients could be tedious. They didn’t adapt well. Granted he himself was an ancient, his kinsmen giving rise to the feared Vikings. However, unlike some ancients, Tyr hadn’t lost the will to live, going to ground for countless years and losing touch with the progress of time.
He’d found his purpose maintaining the balance among his kind. For the Kindred to survive they had to keep a low profile, which could be hard for some. Tyr prided himself on keeping a firm hand on the various Sovereigns that oversaw the northern continent. It was a position he’d gained almost by default being one of the oldest and strongest of his people.
"He's not going to be able to come to the council meeting," Sonja followed up.
“Understandable.” Tyr nodded then headed to his top floor apartment.
As much as he’d like to go help Hawthorne handle his issue, Tyr had his own problems here in the States. In less than two weeks, Kindred from around the continent would descend on Diablo Falls. Among the business that needed to be discussed were the increased, unsanctioned turnings and the number of humans going missing. There were a few Sovereigns who had a lot of shit to explain.
It looks like there’s a culling on the horizon, he sighed.
Tyr stared blankly at his email. The willful bartender made a far more appealing distraction than all this bullshit.
Chapter Two
Gwen
"That big tipper's here again," April giggled, teasing Gwen.
Great! ‘Is she always so contrary?!’ Gwen couldn’t help replay Tyr’s snotty question from the other night. No! Sometimes I’m more contrary.
But the wasn’t the worst of it. The asshat had left her a two-buck tip on a two-hundred-dollar drink, like he'd bought a bottle of Coors or something.
Fine. Maybe I deserved that. Still, the man would've been less insulting if he'd left no tip at all. One said I'm not happy with your service, the other said the same thing but tacked on a little 'fuck you' at the end.
Gwen heard April’s bubbly laugh end with a dejected ‘oh’ and turned to see what was wrong.
Crap, she cursed, seeing Tyr coming toward the bar instead of the dining room.
"Hey, Rob, I gotta take a break."
Gwen quickly headed to the bathroom. She shoved several loose strands of hair back into her hairclip and pretended to powder her nose, Rob could handle the difficult man. When she returned to the bar, ten minutes later, Rob gave her a pointed look.
“What?” she whispered.
"He refused to give me his order. Insisted you serve him."
Gwen smiled sweetly as she walked toward Tyr.
"Sorry about the wait. What can I do for you?" You sexy arrogant bastard.
* * *
Tyr
He was amused when Gwen fled at the sight of him. Something about prey taking flight gave him a wicked thrill.
That's right, run away little girl. At least that was a response he understood, a show of respect for the predator he was.
But then the woman spent forever in the bathroom and it wasn’t so amusing anymore. He could've let Rob serve him, except the thief wasn’t the reason he was here. Gwen had him confounded and frustratingly preoccupied for the last few days, when he should’ve been concentrating on the upcoming meeting. What was the deal with her attitude and why couldn’t he compel her?
Tyr stared at his phone, rereading the same email over and over as he listened for the door down the hall to open again. Then he heard it and the distinct cadence of her walk to the bar. He repressed the urge to look up until she was standing right in front of him.
"Sorry about the wait. What can I do for you?" Gwen asked.
Again she wore that obnoxious smile that had plagued him.
"I certainly don’t want whatever kept you in the bathroom so long.” Tyr couldn't explain why he felt the need to antagonize her, but he did.
Gwen's jaw dropped, but she was careful not to gasp in outrage or shock, both of which she felt strongly if the fire in her eyes was any indication. The green flecked with gold sparkled like little emeralds.