Page 7 of Twice Bitten

I resisted the urge to shake it and sayeww, eww, eww. Instead, I composed myself before saying, “If you’re here for the conference, I hope it’s enjoyable. Have a nice day.”

Beckett didn’t move.

“What time do you get off?” He leaned closer, his pale countenance glimmering under the LED lights, not a pore on his skin to be found. His eyes gleamed with predatory anticipation and the knowledge of being more powerful than me. He could make me do whatever he wanted. Or so he thought.

Maybe he could. I’d never tangled with a vampire before, nor did I want to.

My palms were slick with sweat. Heart hammering in my chest, my pulse beat butterfly wings against my throat. His gaze dipped to my neck, as if he could see the blood pumping through my carotid. Hunger flashed over his face.

Nope. Unh unh. Absolutely not. First rule of being a woman in America: never let them take you to a second location. “I’m working a double,” I lied. “I’ll be here for hours yet.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh? I still have a few more hours of conference left to go. We’re just down the road. Close enough for me to come back for you when you finish.”

Revulsion roared through my body, mixed with a healthy dose of wariness. There were plenty of women at the conference. Why was he so interested in me? On the surface, I was a low-power hedgewitch working as a barista. Minimum wage, used car, girl-next-door looks. Nothing about me should be special to someone like him.

Unless the only thing he wanted was to dump my body in an alley when he finished with it.

“Perhaps we can grab a drink later?” His smile was too wide and too white, his voice too eager.

My pulse picked up speed, and his smile widened even further. Another fun vampire tip: even the youngest can hear someone’s heartbeat pick up. Fear excited them, got that numbing agent in their saliva primed and ready for a meal, in addition to the second agent—the one they could choose to use or not, the one that could turn anyone receiving a vampire bite into a quivering, sex-desperate fiend.

Some vampires had groupies, women who hung out at supernatural clubs waiting to be chosen, as if they were shiny baubles in a display case. Every time I thought about it, I got the heebie-jeebies.

The other customer waiting hadn’t grabbed their coffee yet. They could hear Beckett propositioning me and clearly didn’t want to interfere. I, on the other hand, wanted someone,anyone,to interfere.

To my relief, Addy came out from the back, wiping her hands on a clean towel. “Alex! Can you check on the roasting for me?” She rolled her eyes. “The smell of coffee is making me high or something. I need a break.” Addy smiled, but there was an angry glint in her eye as she took the vampire’s measure and found him lacking. “I’m happy to help your customers out.”

If she wouldn’t kill me for it, I’d plant a massively sloppy kiss right on her thin lips. “Sure. I just gave Beckett his order, so that should be all for now.”

Addy nodded. “Good.” She turned to him as I disappeared to the back, her voice carrying behind me. “Is there anything else you need?”

I sank against the wall, trembling. Guillermo gave me a long look, then waddled to the window and scampered up a stepladder to peer outside. When he got a good look, he camedown, grunted, and shuffled back over to his table to continue testing new recipes.

Guillermo almost never came to the front for his own safety and comfort, but he was an absolute genius when it came to creating new blends and drinks for the shop. Goblins weren’t common in our town, and barista and baking goblins were unheard of. Poor G got enough curious looks on the rare occasions he did come out to the front—people wanting to snap pictures or take videos of him for social media clout. He, like most goblins, preferred keeping to himself, but G was never to be underestimated. There was a reason other supernaturals gave goblins a wide berth. In the distant past, goblins were feared warriors and served beside kings as trusted soldiers and compatriots. Things were different now, but goblins were still powerful foes, and it was best not to get on their bad side.

“He hurt you, I kill him,” he said quietly.

My chest warmed. “Aww. Thanks, G. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Guillermo’s mouth turned down. “He has crazy eyes.”

It was hard to argue with his logic. Beckettdidhave crazy eyes. “You’ve seen a lot of crazy eyes?”

“I came from Faerie. Almost everyone has crazy eyes.” He shrugged and poured lavender syrup into a beaker.

I’d never been to Faerie, but he was right. Every fae I’d ever met had a screw loose. Guillermo was considered a lower fae, but even he got a little crazy-eyed when it came to coffee, with or without his contacts.

“Hopefully, once he leaves, I’ll never see him again.”

Guillermo’s shrug worried me. “He smells your blood. Pretty witch blood, eh? It makes the vampires crazy.”

“Uhhhh,” I said eloquently, unsure if he was speaking in generalities or if G could actually smell my genetic makeup. The talisman was supposed to keep me showing as a low-powered hedge, or so Mom had claimed. If G was sniffingsomething else, I might need to move up my implant adjustment appointment.

“Don’t worry. It’s all witches. You insulted him. He be a masochist. He likes you. Plus, your blood is sparkly. Different. Smells good.”

I blinked and resisted the urge to smell myself. “You mean he likes to be insulted?”

“Yes. If you punch him, he will be yours forever.”