The Bartender (Sanguine Hearts Book 1)

6 Maeve

Ice ran down his spine as a chill touch slithered across his shoulders. "Grayson," a cool and sultry voice purred his name as a thin dark-haired woman dressed in an elegant black jumpsuit with a split down the front to her belly button and an open back slipped around to stand impossibly close to his side. It took all his energy and strength to not jump up and run from that familiar slithering silky touch. "Grayson, my sweet, sweet gentle, Gray. Whatever are we to do with you?" Her voice would have been soothing to any other set of ears but to Grayson’s sensitive ears, it was something else entirely. He grew tired of her touch long ago and the sound of her voice no longer soothed him. He couldn’t believe that there was ever a time that it had. But there was. A long time ago he would rather forget.

He hid the shivers that cascaded down his spine and suppressed his growl. He locked down his mind as tightly and quickly as he possibly could, to guard against the woman's mental intrusion that he knew she would attempt. It was her thing. Not that he ever left himself open. He simply needed extra precautions when she was near. He didn’t want her thoughts touching him. Her thoughts felt slimy and out of place in his mind. They certainly did not belong there. He fought to maintain a calm and cool demeanor, but the truth was her very presence was enough to set his anger ablaze. He couldn't be bothered to look up from his glass, he just stared at it holding it tightly in his hand, careful not to squeeze and break it. He held his tongue for a long precious moment, so he could take the time to gather his thoughts, and then he simply stated, "Nothing." That was exactly what he meant. His eyes were the only things that betrayed his anger at her very presence by his side. His eyes burned and blazed, more golden-red than green they became, as the golden ring around his pupils expanded and pushed the green and blue to the outer edges of his irises. The edges took on a crimson hue. His mouth was held firm in a straighter-than-usual line. He continued to stare angrily at his half-empty glass. Slowly, Grayson raised his angry crimson eyes and looked at her in the mirror. "Leave." He commanded in deep hushed tones, his mouth didn't move, yet the woman heard him clearly.

"Very well. Have it your way, Graaay-son." The woman ran taunting cool fingers along his neck and down his jaw while he glared at her through his reflection.

"NOW!" He growled. Unperturbed by his little display of power, she sauntered smoothly away from him, one elegant hip at a time, and on down the bar to order her drink from Ariel. She was violating their agreement by being near him, let alone saddling up right next to him and bringing herself to the side of the bar, or to the bar at all for that matter. Anger hot and wild threatened to boil out of Grayson as Maeve moved away from him.

Ariel watched, internally torn. She tried to lie to herself as she endeavored to pretend that she hadn’t witnessed that little exchange between a man who fascinated her and a tall beautiful woman who knew him. She smiled softly as the woman approached her.

"Would you like your usual tonight, Miss Maeve?"

"Not tonight Ari." She purred as she shot Grayson a smug look. He no doubt heard that. "I'd like to try something new. Maybe one of your drinks? What do you think? Do you have a drink for me?" She kept her voice soft and quiet as if she didn’t want anyone to hear their exchange. She knew that the man at the end of the bar heard every word. She didn’t care.

Unfazed by Maeve’s unfathomable beauty and deep brown eyes, Ariel just smiled. "I believe I do," she said with the glass she needed already in her hand, the rim of it both salted and sugared. She set it on the counter and moved gracefully to get the bottles she needed from the shelf behind her. Bottles flipped and spun, and liquor poured into the martini glass. When the last ingredient was added to the salt and sugar-rimmed glass, its contents smoked, and electric blue swirled throughout the liquid. Expertly, Ariel garnished the drink and set it on the small black square of a napkin in front of Maeve.

Maeve examined the blue and white liquid swirling in her glass with a genuine look of surprise stamped across her beautiful face and through her eyes. "What is it?" She asked quietly, her agenda entirely forgotten.

"Blue Lagoon." Came Ariel's proud and short reply. She scanned Maeve's club card and added the drink to her tab. She gave her back her card and smiled before nodding and moving away. She didn't wait for Maeve to taste the drink, she didn't need to.

Maeve picked up the glass, touched the cool liquid to her lips, and nodded in approval as she casually raised her glass to Grayson. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention away from her and back to the woman who had come to sit beside him. She was beautiful, like most of the women who joined him at the bar. He didn’t care. Her beauty didn’t even begin to compare to the beauty of the girl that served him his drink every night. This one was a busty blond with a thin waist, long legs, and a healthy smile. She was elegantly dressed in black, of course. She was smooth and elegant but desperate. He despised such desperate people. Despite the appearance of having it all together, the women who were drawn to him were either somewhat or completely broken and looking to him to resolve their problems. This one was very unhappy in her marriage and was looking for a way out. Disinterested, he gave her a small portion of his attention while he tracked and noted Maeve's movements from the bar and through the club.

Maeve moved smoothly, full of grace and skill that he knew to be precise and deadly, around the bar and up the stairs, turning every head as she went. She turned at the top of the stairs and headed to the lounge area of the upper bar. A tall beautiful blond boy with blue eyes, so bright Grayson could see them from where he sat greeted her. Naturally, he knew him. Unfortunately, he knew him well. The old wound still stung. That surprised him.