Her heart skips a beat. She glances over at the waiting customers. “I’ve got to finish my shift.”
“I can arrange another bartender to step in for you.”
“Listen…” she leans a little closer to me. The sweet smell of her blood fills my nostrils and lights a warm fire inside me. “I really liked our night together, but…I can’t date a vampire. I just can’t.”
“I’m not asking for adate,”I raise an eyebrow. “Just a night.”
She shakes her head, not meeting my eye. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”
Her words have a surprising sting. I’m not used to this type of rejection. But I respect it.
“I understand.”
She smiles tightly and turns away. I rise and merge in with the crowd.
Instantly, I hear the rush of heartbeats and the pull of dozens of eyes on me.
I could have any breather I wanted. Certainly any breather in this club.
So why am I feeling so…disappointed? The night I had with the bartender was wonderful, but I’ve had many wonderful nights. She doesn’t want me to bite her. She probably hates vampires.
I need to let it go.
Maybe that’s the theme of the night.
Unfortunately, I’m not good at letting things go.
A SUBTLE DISQUIET
Celine
The next few hours go by slowly. I stay in the club, keeping an eye out for the drugs that Renata mentioned. I have to kick out two customers who are using it by one of the back tables. I make sure they’re both sober before taking them out through the emergency staircase.
“If we find you using again, you’ll be banned from Succumb,” I tell them firmly. They don’t need to be told twice. They scamper off into the darkness without a word.
I head back down to the club. But looking around at the undulating, frenetic bodies around me, I don’t feel the usual rush of hunger and desire. Being rejected by the bartender has soured my mood more than I’d like to admit.
The night is moving on, and the crowd is dwindling as breathers go home for the night or pair off with vampires who take them to more private places. I find a seat on a couch at the back of the bar and watch the dancing bitterly.
“Who pissed onyourgrave?” says Lexi, wrinkling her nose as she sits down beside me. She holds an enormous glass of red liquid, complete with a curly purple straw.
“Pardon?”
“You look so grouchy tonight,” she clarifies, taking a sip of her ridiculous drink.
“I’m not grouchy. I don’t get grouchy.”
“You’re alittle bitgrouchy. Are you mad because daddy’s gone?”
“Don’t call him daddy. And I don’t care that he’s gone. I’ve watched over his business for two hundred years before you were evenborn…”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know,” she turns her head in my direction, her long blond ponytail whipping into the face of the man behind her, who splutters and disentangles himself quickly. She doesn’t notice. “You’ve really got to chill out. This isn’t, like, the 16th century anymore. I get it…life used to be all brutal and whatever, but nowadays, we don’t need to worry about stuff like that. We have plumbing, and stable governments, and everything. You don’t need to be on edge all the time.”
I scowl at her. “I was born in the 18th century. And we have a lot to be worried about. This business is dangerous, Lexi. We can’t trust anyone.”
“Whatever, you’re totally missing the point. The whole stoic, emotion-is-weakness thing is completely passé. Nowadays, it’s all about being vulnerable, opening yourself up to other people, you know? Have you even ever been to therapy? You’re going to have a heart attack if you keep stressing out all the time.”
“I can’t have a heart attack, I’mdead.”
