Page 39 of Rising Reign

Rhys chuckled and reached for his whiskey. “Not yours in particular, no.”

Juan straightened on his stool, suddenly looking affronted. “What’s wrong with my blood? It’s good blood. Probably the best blood ever.”

“Jesus,” Franco muttered.

Puck wrapped an arm around me, leaning his head against mine. “Tell me again why we needed to share with this idiot.”

Rhys set down his glass and turned on his stool so he faced the human contingent. “Taking blood from the vein is an intimate experience. It bonds the two creatures in a way. And since I’m not particularly taken with you in that way, I’m not going to rip out your carotid.”

Franco looked on stunned, but Juan just looked thoughtful. “So…what?” Juan asked. “You drink out of blood bags? Or blood cans like on True Blood? I fucking loved that show.”

Rhys chuckled. “Something like that.”

Clyde put a hand over his neck. “Just keep any sharp teeth away from my veins.”

“How about we focus on human food?” I suggested, tapping my order pad. “What can I get you?”

The guys ordered, and I got lost in the hustle and bustle of the lunch rush again. Our human friends seemed to hit it off with Rhys after a few moments of nerves, and they shot the shit about all things small-town and supernatural, each side fascinated by the other.

As I cleared away the plates, I took stock of the overflowing recycling bin. I ditched the plates in the kitchen for Gary and moved to empty the bin.

“Don’t even think about it,” Puck called. “I’ll do it after I finish these drinks.”

“I can empty the trash,” I shot back.

“Not alone, you can’t,” he clipped, his green eyes turning hard.

I tried not to let annoyance get the best of me. “Fine.”

Rhys slid off his stool. “I will escort the little vixen.”

Puck’s eyes narrowed on him. “You’ve been downing whiskeys all afternoon.”

Rhys executed what resembled a bastardized version of a sobriety field test and ended in a tap dance number. “I’m good, see?”

Dina hollered at Puck for two more drinks, and he let out a growl. “Fine. But you stick to her like white on rice.”

Rhys saluted Puck. “I’m on duty.”

I rolled my eyes at them and hoisted the recycling bin into my arms.

“I can get that,” Rhys offered.

“I’m good, but you can get the door,” I called around the side of the bin.

“At your service.” Rhys hurried ahead, opened the back door, and held it wide.

I shuffled out toward the recycling, but only made it three steps before a hand fisted in my hair, yanking me to the side.

“It’s about time, you little bitch.”

24

WREN

The bin I held tumbled out of my arms as the hold on my hair tightened, and my whole body was jerked to the side. Glass shattered, cans clattered, and the bin itself flew to the ground.

I moved on instinct, my elbow flying back into my attacker’s gut. He grunted, and his hold on my hair loosened just enough for me to pull free. I whirled, hands moving in front of my face into a defensive position.