Instead, she settled for going out through the dining area to the bar to summon her brother. So many Vemreaux were crowding the long bar. She felt bad for bothering him. Lifting up the table top barrier on the end that separated him from the drinkers, Blue skirted in next to Baird.
“Hey. Steve’s on his, like, fiftieth break and he’s got tables. Will you just deal with him? If I do, it’ll be ugly, and I’m itching for ugly right about now.”
“Alright, but you have to make the shots. Do you know how?”
She nodded, surprised that he would hand over the legacy so easily.
Baird leaned on the bar and dried off his hands. “Don’t get too excited. I’m not gonna tell you what’s in the bottles. Let me watch you make a round so I know you can do it right.”
Five Vemreaux signaled that they wanted another, but Blue still took the time to throw her brother a withering look at being observed in this juvenile way. Of course she knew how to make them. She reasoned that anyone with a steady hand could figure it out after watching Baird go back and forth with the liquid as many times as he did each night. It was what was in the bottles that escaped her knowledge.
Elle walked quickly to the bar. The only sign of sleeplessness came from her eyes and lack of smile. She leaned on the edge and shouted over the noise to her friend. “Hey, I need twenty-five shots for the patio.” She propped her tray up on her hip. “Since when does Baird let anyone make his shots? I thought he’d die with the secret.”
“He still might. He didn’t tell me what’s in the bottles.” She held up a labelless glass container as a visual aid. “He’s out back dealing with Steve.”
“That idiot still giving you problems?” Elle asked as she ducked under the divider. She joined Blue behind the bar so they didn’t have to shout.
“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. For now.” Elle helped Blue load the many shots onto her tray before bumping her hip against her friend’s. “You’re a cute bartender, you know. I can tell the Vemreaux like the switch.” Her head jerked to the barflies who were watching Blue every bit as much as the attractive blonde.
“Great,” she muttered, shaking her head. “So much for being invisible.”
Elle shrugged. “You can’t help how gorgeous you are. I should know.” Lifting the tray to her shoulder, she flipped up the divider and let herself out of the bar.
“’Nother Abby over here,” an accented male voice called from the other end.
“Make that two,” beckoned his female companion.
Blue did not look up as she set the shots down in front of them. Brody sized up the new bartender whom he deemed to be too small for the task of holding her own behind the bar.
The Fem led him onto the dance floor, parading around her short skirt and midriff-baring shirt. Blue wondered if she would ever be drunk enough to dance publicly like the Fem did, not that she would dare compromise her prowess with alcohol to begin with.
“Hit me, Baird,” demanded Lawrence, good-naturedly. He made to sit down on the stool and nearly fell off of it.
Blue quirked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing by way of a correction. She made a separate shot for him, only instead of the clear bottles, she used carbonated water.
Baird tapped his sister on the shoulder to relieve her, but instead of leaving, she stood on her toes to speak privately to him.
Baird leaned down to compensate for her small stature. “What?”
“I think Lawrence should be cut off, Baird. He can barely sit upright. I watered down his shot, but he should really go home.”
Baird observed the Vemreaux he so often did business with and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call a cab.”
“Thanks,” Blue muttered as she moved around her brother to resume waiting on her tables.
“Look at you, caring about the customers.” Baird ruffled her hair affectionately. He wasn’t one for hugs or public displays, but a quick hair muss was a multi-purpose response. It served as “I love you”, “you’re welcome”, “thank you”, and the occasional “you got me”. She shoved him playfully in response.
The corner booth had just become available, so Blue made quick work of clearing it off and wiping it down. She geared up to address the handsome Vemreaux before moving toward his table, but when she turned around, he was right behind her.
Her hand flew to her chest in surprise, her hair falling from her face as she looked up at the man who was standing a little too close. “You scared me!” she accused. Her eyes darted guiltily to the bar to be sure Baird had not seen someone succeed in sneaking up on her. Then she ducked her head down to hide her face again, doing her best to ignore Sam’s playful smirk that melted into a frown. “I, um, your table. You wanted the b-booth?”
“I did,” he said, not moving from in front of her. “Who…”
At that moment, the person behind Blue decided to back away from their table abruptly, knocking the waitress forward into the man she was trying to escape.
Sam’s strong arms flew around her, catching her with a laugh meant for charming. “Falling for me already, are you?”
For one tiny moment, the world slowed. The firm chest. The alluring scent of his cologne. The perfect home for her cheek to rest, just over the beautiful stranger’s heart. Blue’s own heart pounded erratically, and for two seconds too long, she forgot to pull away. She forgot her brother. She forgot the diner. In that smallest of moments, Blue forgot herself.
The world with all of its needs crashed down on her, refusing to be ignored. Blue was mortified at her clumsy display. “Oh! I’m sorry, s-sir,” she stammered as she righted herself, her skin burning where he’d touched her. Sam smelled as good as he looked, and Blue had to fight to keep herself from looking up at him again. Before she could make a bigger fool of herself, she slipped from his near embrace and moved the contents of his table to the booth as quickly as she could, then all but ran back to the kitchen.
Grettel gave Blue a wary look, which she ignored. She shook off all thoughts of the Vemreaux, putting out of her mind his scent, his lips, his touch, his hard chest, and all the other things about him that proved a horrid distraction to her superior control. Just another customer. No big deal. People trip all the time. It would’ve been weird if I hadn’t fallen forward. Before she stacked the hot, smelly food onto her tray, she filled a tall glass with water and added it to the load. She kept her face from her brother as she stacked fifteen shots on her tray, balancing it with care as she walked back onto the floor.
With her head firmly tilted downward, she delivered the shots to various tables, and then placed the plates of food and water in front of the intimidating Vemreaux. Sam’s new acquaintance was making herself at home next to him by pressing her shoulder into his chest so he had a full shot of her cleavage. Blue couldn’t place the uncomfortable feeling this gave her. She kept her eyes from finding their way over to Sam. He had been on his phone, but ended the call when she slid his food and fresh beverage over to him.
“Thank you.” He looked to her name tag. “Blue? Your name’s Blue?”
The Fem next to him echoed his tone with a twist of snobbery. “What kind of a name is Blue? Your momma pick that out for you?” She lazily reached her hand over to pick up a cherry tomato from Sam’s plate.
So quick that only Blue saw it coming, Sam batted her hand out of the way. “If you want food, you can order something all by your little self. Don’t go snaking stuff off my plate. Not unless you want to lose one of those greedy fingers.”
The Femreaux produced a sassy face to hide her embarrassment, and withdrew her hand.
“You don’t know me,” he concluded, making it clear that she was not privileged enough to be granted the lofty place of the woman he shared food with. The daring of her wandering hands suggested that she knew him intimately, or at the very least, that her sneaky fingers wanted to.
“Can I get you anything?” Blue asked quietly to the Femreaux. In her peripheral vision, she tried to see
if there was a device anywhere on Sam that could deliver the shock he’d given her earlier.
“No, thanks. I don’t start drinking until after ten.”
Blue always found it odd that people offered personal information up like it was nothing. With no urging whatsoever, everyone at the table now knew that the woman drank after ten o’clock. It was as if she was desperate to be known in some small way. It was currently half past eight, and Blue wondered if the distinction of time made her feel like a lady with limits rather than the girl who was running her fingers up and down the crass Vemreaux’s thigh while he tried to eat.
“Do you wanna dance, Stone?” she asked Sam in what Blue was sure was supposed to be a seductive voice.
“No.” Sam geared up for sarcasm. “See this food on my fork? I’m eating, here. Odd, I know. Eating in a restaurant. Why don’t you go pretend it’s ten or something. Prince Liam’s on his way, and I’ve got to make a few phone calls. Official business and all. You understand.”
The Femreaux wore a disgruntled expression that her seduction proved unsuccessful as she left the booth.
Blue turned on her heel to walk away, but froze mid-step when the voice she could now recognize anywhere pulled her back. “You forgot the beer.” He tapped the open Boddingtons with the butt of his fork before lifting the noodles to his mouth.
“No, I didn’t, sir. Y-You asked for what I drink.” Her eyes lifted only to indicate the tall glass of water that now had beads of condensation running down the sides as the glass frosted over. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t drink beer.”
Sam stared up at her like he’d never seen such a strange puzzle. Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a sip, but jerked the drink away immediately. “Oh, you’ve got to take this back. It’s much too strong for me.”
A dainty smirk played on her lips, giving way to the blush that she’d never had to wrestle so hard with. He didn’t seem like a kind man to the Fem who obviously wanted his attention. Why was she smiling for him? “Enjoy your meal, sir,” Blue mumbled as she quickly walked away from the table.
“Hey, wait! Blue?” Sam called after her.
Blue did not turn around. As fast as she could while still being discreet, she headed in the direction of the kitchen instead of checking on her other tables. When she reached the door, she decided that Grettel could probably go without seeing her so shaken twice in one day. The hallway that contained the restrooms was usually deserted, so she went there instead to catch her breath.
Pushing the door open to the ladies’ room, Blue was grateful that it was empty. She leaned against the wall next to the door and placed her hand on her chest, hoping that might slow her heart’s rapid jumps.
When her eyes closed, she was disappointed to find that the self-imposed darkness did not offer the comfort she hoped it would. She could not escape the mental image of his eyes boring into her, watching her every move in a way that made her subconsciously straighten her hair.
Upon opening her eyes, Blue was confronted with the tall mirrors over the sink, aimed to point out every flaw, of which she could name hundreds. She shuddered at the sight, let out a pathetic whine, and pointed her head down so that there would be no chance she could accidentally see her reflection.
In that moment, she missed the simplicity of The Way. None of the boys there made her feel like this. She could be covered in pure scratch and not think twice about how she looked to others back then. Over and over, she chided herself on the ridiculous behavior, making sure that she would punish herself later by hanging out less with Grettel. It seemed her shy friend’s demeanor was rubbing off on her.
Eventually Blue’s breathing returned to normal, and she ran out of reasons not to check on her other tables. Her hand gripped the long metal handle and pulled the door open. Not expecting anyone to be standing there, her eyes locked in on the black pools that she was trying so hard to avoid. Startled, her breath caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle her second girlish yelp of the evening. “C-Can I help you, s-sir?” She was unable to look away from his intense stare.
“Where are you from?” Sam questioned, not backing up to give her space.
Blue wasn’t sure what exactly she’d been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Why?”
“I just want to know.”
“Around here,” she answered as generically as she could.
Not deterred by her evasion, the Vemreaux took a step forward. “Do you have relatives in Europe?”
Confusion took over for surprise. “How would I know that?” Her eyebrows wrinkled as she considered the question. “I’m A-blood. I’m a W-Wayward.” Inwardly she berated herself for the embarrassing new development of stuttering that she couldn’t help in his presence.
Sam’s face fell slightly, but he continued to study her. “Your eyes. Do you wear contact lenses?”
“Huh? N-No, sir. These are just my eyes.” Upon receiving such focused attention, her gaze darted to his polished shoes uncomfortably, shrinking back behind her hair.
Compassion softened Sam’s tone. “Why do you hide your face like that?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Blue retorted a little too forcefully. “I’m sorry, sir. I have t-tables to wait on.” Her leaden feet tried to move her body away from him, but he stepped in her path. “Excuse me, sir.” She flattened her body to the cool wall to slide past him, but his fingers caught her elbow.
The moment their skin touched, the same thing happened again. Electricity shot up her arm and heated her body in an instant.
Blue gasped at the audacity of the man to shock her yet again. Her eyes flared, and without thinking of the consequences, she grabbed onto his knuckles with speed that was not thought to exist in a Wayward. Blue twisted Sam’s hand behind his back faster than he could react, and slammed the front of his body firmly against the concrete wall.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Caught in the Act
“What’re you trying to do?” Blue whispered, fear polluting her threat.
“Let me go!” Sam growled. “How…how are you doing this?” His surprise mutated to concern when he realized he could not break free from the dainty woman’s hold.
“How do you keep shocking me like that?” Blue’s meticulously refined temper began to trickle through the carefully constructed dam that Baird had worked so hard to instill in her.
The Vemreaux’s surprise heightened while his fruitless struggle against her ceased. With the side of his head pressed up against the wall, his becoming mouth barely moved as he spoke in the same hushed whisper. “You felt that?”
“Of course I did! You…you shocked me! How’d you do it? Why are you experimenting on A-bloods? You need our consent for that.” She gave a little more volume to her voice, but still spoke through gritted teeth. One hand held his firmly in place against the base of his spine, separating his thumb from his fist so she could jerk it backward to inflict pain if he tried to escape. Her other forearm was pressed to his neck to keep his head against the wall. Just a little more pressure and she could choke him out. A little more thrust and she could crush his skull. A little closer and she could smell his delicious scent more fully.
“Experimenting? What are you talking about? You shocked me!” Sam, accused vehemently.
“I did not!” Blue pressed harder against his neck, his skin warming hers and sending a thrill through her. She could feel the foreign pulse running through his neck, and now that she was this close, she could see his face more clearly. A short scar hid beneath the hair on the back of his neck. The loose dark brown spiky waves stuck up at odd angles, begging to be combed or straightened. The three freckles decorating his cheek caught her eye once again and proved to be an utter distraction to her anger.
“I don’t experiment on Waywards, and I didn’t do anything to you. Now, you should probably back down before someone sees this and you really get in trouble.”
It was only a matter of time before the altercation was noticed
. Blue could only hope that it would be Baird or Elle that interrupted them. Her jaw clenched as she took in the face of Brody strolling down the hallway.
“Aw, how cute. Can’t say I ever pictured you taking it from behind, Pan. But now that I think about it…” His voice trailed off lightly, as if he’d caught his friend making out with a girl in the hallway.
“Brody, would you get her off me?”
“Come on now, little girl. We don’t want to hurt you.”
The hand that clenched her shoulder suggested that his words were false.
Wisps of black crept into the edges of her sight. Blue exhaled, trying to force the darkness to stay away, but she could not ignore Brody’s firm grip. She responded by stomping back hard on his instep with her heel and letting go of Sam’s neck temporarily to fling a well-aimed elbow back, popping Brody squarely in the nose. She didn’t want to break it, just get him to back off so the dark would retreat.
A string of expletives poured from Brody as quickly as the blood flowed forth from his nose. “Who is she, Sam?”
“Her face, Brody!” Sam gasped as Blue leaned on his windpipe again, this time with more force. His words choked out from him slowly. “Look at her eyes.” He struggled harder, but realized with confusion and dread that he could not overpower the petite waitress.
Brody tried to look Blue in the face through his watery vision, but every time he moved in front of her, she jerked her head out of the way defiantly. She didn’t know why they wanted to see her eyes, but she refused to give them anything.
“Alec!” Brody shouted, his words garbled due to the blood and mucus. “Get Liam out of here!”
Before Blue could turn to see the third body she’d need to incapacitate, he was on her. Arms with more strength than Brody and more cruelty than Sam’s ripped her from her prey and threw her back against the wall. Her head knocked against the concrete and bobbed twice before she could blink her world back into focus.
The Way Page 23
