The Bartender (Sanguine Hearts Book 1)

8 Michael

A smooth melodic voice called her name as she gracefully approached the top of the stairs. She wasn’t expecting the greeting. The voice leaned toward question and surprise as if its owner was shocked to see her. But Why? Why would he be shocked? It's not as if an encounter with Grason Darke would kill her. Grayson was extremely practical. He was no fool. He’d never harm a being in such a public venue, especially not in Bey Luna Beatz. And most definitely not in front of Ariel Decklan. Maeve saw the way he looked at her. She recognized that far-away look he’d got in his eyes. If he thought he was sly and that his interest in the girl had gone unnoticed, then perhaps he was a fool, and he did not deserve her respect or loyalty. She doubted that.

She’d known Grayson for an extremely long time. She knew exactly how cautious and calculating he was. That was why he was in the position that he was in. Well, that was not necessarily true but it sure helped. He absolutely knew that his interest was known to her and Michael and any sensible one of them. But was it known to the one who needed to be the most aware of it? Now that was plain for her to see. Alex had no clue that Grayson was also interested in the little human bartender. It wasn’t like it was Grayson’s interest in her that mattered. No, it did not matter in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was her interest in him or more importantly, her lack of interest in Alex. That was what truly mattered in their small world. Maeve smiled. It would be interesting to see how it all played out. She shifted her focus to the wonderful sight before her and gave the beautiful blond male her full attention. “Michael!” She exclaimed happily and just as loudly. Her voice was velvety, smooth. Her thoughts began to shift focus as her dark eyes drank his form in. She was more than happy to see him.

She didn’t love him in the typical sense of the word, but she cared for him in her own selfish kind of way. They had a mutually beneficial arrangement that worked well for them. They appreciated each other’s beauty and often, when no one else was available, would meet each other’s physical needs. More often than not, someone else was available. He opened his arms and welcomed her into them with a charming smile, and then he closed them around her, trapping her and pulling her in. Curious eyes began to shift toward them. That was a part of the plan. His large strong hands found their way to the bare small of her back, then slid around her narrow waist and inside the sides of her jumpsuit. His fingers spread out on her warm skin. He sighed contentedly for an immeasurable moment. She breathed into his neck and he smiled happily. He loved the way she felt in his arms. But he would never tell her that. That was not what they agreed to. He hated it, but it kept her close to him and occasionally by his side. He knew the truth of her ways when he entered into their agreement. What they had was needs-based and purely physical for her. He just couldn't stop himself from wishful thinking. He guarded his heart as closely as he could, but he could never be sure that it would be enough to honestly protect him from the damage that she could do.

“What is that in your hand?” He quipped when he finally let her go and stepped back from her enough to see her drink. He couldn’t believe it, but he should have known that through it all she’d held on to her drink and hadn’t allowed a single drop to spill. The blue and white liquid in the glass called to him. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off it. Perhaps that was because he knew who had made it for Maeve.

“Ari called it a Blue Lagoon.” She let her eyes shift away and back to him again while her perfect white teeth made a grand appearance over her bottom lip and her eyes bore into his. It was like fire looking at ice, brown against blue. Where she was dark, he was light. Even their souls bore this difference. His blond hair was perfectly styled, and his eyes were the brightest of blues set in a perfectly chiseled face that hosted just the right amount of scruff. He was so much of a blond that finding his eyebrows was often challenging though they were plainly there. He was over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and trim with nicely shaped arms. He wore white in a way that no one had business wearing it. Girls flocked to his side, he could have his choice of anyone, two, or even three of them if he turned on the charm. Not that it would take much. He knew it. Knowing his appeal to others wasn’t him bragging. It was a matter of fact. It was a part of what he was. Because of his unfettered preference, he could draw males to himself as well. The pheromones his body created depended on how he was feeling. He could never bring himself to take advantage of them that way, so he never did.

People were watching them, they could not help themselves. A touch of bloodlust descended on them. They’d need to break it soon or they'd end up getting themselves kicked out of the club. She put the glass up to his lips. He let his tongue caress the rim tasting the sugar and salt with its tip before he took the edge of the glass between his lips and sipped the cool liquid as she tipped the glass up for him. Everybody on the third floor stopped what they were doing. Nearly every head on the balcony turned to watch. They couldn’t pull their eyes away from the beautiful couple. The men tried to discretely adjust themselves while the women squirmed and rubbed their thighs together. Michael and Maeve made just the scene that they desired to make. The spectacle was charged with s****l tension and envy was thick in the air. The excess energy was taken in to replenish what had been lost.