“Your preference,” he spoke, his handsome green eyes grinning now.
“Sweet.”
With a nod, Rake pulled out a highball glass and set a large square rock of ice in the bottom with tongs, then poured some bourbon over it from a crystal decanter. Adding a dash of bitters from a slim vial, he included a twist of orange peel and a twist of lemon, then crushed a fragrant herb Layla couldn’t identify into the mixture, swizzling it with a copper stirrer.
And then he made eye contact with Layla. For a moment, she felt as if their souls connected, spiraling into a vortex that swirled up from her body and in through his subtly-parted lips, anchored by those exquisitely calm green eyes. Putting his index finger to his lips, he exhaled across it, then gave her drink one final stir with that same finger. Setting the drink on a linen square, he slid it over, a subtle smile on his face as he wiped his finger on his bar-towel and returned his hands to the polished copper bar.
“Try it.”
Layla lifted an eyebrow. Putting your fingers in someone’s drink was a bartending no-no, but if Rake was as not-human as many here, Layla’d give him the benefit of the doubt. He looked human, but Layla was finding that didn’t count for much in the Hotel. Lifting her drink, she gave him a small salute. Rikyava watched with a grin as Layla took a sip.
It instantly took her for a ride. Flavors cascaded through Layla’s mouth, feeling like they breathed down her throat with the drink’s vapors. Her lips fell open, the sweet and citrus sweeping through her body and making her head spin. It wasn’t that it was alcoholic, it was just so intensely flavorful that she could feel each taste blowing through her lungs and deep inside, exhaling upon her breath and up into her nostrils to do it all over again. Layla sat there just breathing, feeling this deep, pleasurable high move through her over and over. It was far better than the opium she’d tried in college – far better even than Seattle’s best marijuana.
“That’swaybetter thansilethwine.” She sighed, feeling an intense pleasure still breathing through her. It was smooth and sweet and almost smoky and Layla rocked again, something about it reminding her of the most ecstatic meditations she had ever engaged in. Rake was grinning now, his green eyes pleased and almost shy at her delight. Winsome. He was handsome and winsome, and it was a fetching combination.
“Glad you like it,” Rake murmured softly. And with a shy-sweet smile that was somehow also bold, he lifted Layla’s hand again, brushing it with another not-quite kiss.
Layla shivered, smiling back at Rake’s luminous delight. She was feeling she’d be right at home at this bar, and for now, there was no place she’d rather be.
CHAPTER 20 – EVENING
Other patrons were arriving at the bar and like the professional he was, Rake André didn’t linger. Turning his lean height with one more shy-bold smile for Layla and a gentle, “ladies,” he moved away to greet a new group, setting his hands on the sleek copper bar-top, ready to serve. Layla watched him go; that sweet, smoky pleasure still breathing through her before she turned back to Rikyava, the astonishing drink still in her hand.
“His power is really something,” Layla spoke, amazed.
“Damn straight. Andthatis why I don’t drink Rake’s concoctions while I’m working. Note to self: they’ll make you high for hours.” Rikyava chuckled from her barstool.
“What is he? What kind of Twilight Realm lineage?”
“Rake’s something called a Deathkeeper –Tenere corporis.”
“That sounds ominous.” Layla blinked, brought down a bit from her high and gazing at her drink suspiciously.
“Don’t worry!” Rikyava laughed. “It’s not like it sounds. Traditionally, Deathkeepers were holy men and women who tended to the ill and dying, able to create the euphoria of a sweet death in those who needed peace. Like Sylvania, they can ease someone’s passing in a beautiful way. Rake took a slightly different path than his clan, though. He’s traveled the world learning from masters of tantric practice for centuries, and came here instead of going to his family’s monastery in the south of France.”
Keeping one ear on the conversation while he mixed drinks for the other group, Rake glanced over, giving Layla his sweet-shy yet winning smile. “I’m a lover, not a monk. What can I say?” He spoke with a shrug. Chuckling, he turned back to his work as Layla grinned.
“So he puts his breath into his drinks via the finger trick.” Layla watch him do it again for another customer, understanding.
Rikyava nodded at her with a grin. “Indeed. I’ve seen guests sit for hours enjoying just one drink of his. One woman sat for a full day. She was practically having an orgasm with every breath. You think his drinks are nice? Try one of his tantric breathwork classes. Every Saturday, seven a.m. sharp. If you ever get chosen to sit face-to-face with him and breathe – ooh, girl. Watch out. He also does private tantric incense-inhalation sessions.Thosecost. A lot.”
“I kinda want to take it back to my room and pour a hot bath.” Layla swirled her glass, wondering if she dared have more.
“Uh-huh.” Rikyava chuckled knowingly. “Room service can bring you his drinks while he’s on-duty, but it’s better if you come down to the bar and he looks you in the eyes when he makes it. He reads your essence and makes it specifically for you. But no drink you’ll ever get from him will be the same. Depends on your mood, and his.”
“So is everything here just about sex?” Layla asked, braving another sip of her drink and reeling for a moment as she breathed, though she managed to keep her eyes open this time. “I mean, Dusk’s ability, Reginald’s, Rake’s? Even Sylvania…”
“No.” Rikyava shook her head. “It’s not just about sex, though sensuality is a tremendous part of what we do here. The Red Letter Hotel is about providing a one-of-a-kind, blow-your-mind experience. It’s about sensuality, opulence, pleasure, relaxation, and abandoning your fears. Discovering that a whole other world exists within you and around you that you never embraced before. Even for patrons from the Twilight Realm, to experience this kind of relaxation and intimacy through every part of their stay is a rare thing. Clans who are intense rivals are forbidden from feuding here – at any Hotel location. Some people do come here to go wantonly ballistic for a day or a week, delving into extreme hedonism, but it’s fewer than you’d think.”
“So all the… Courtesans and Courtiers,” Layla attempted to use the correct terminology, “they each have specialties.”
“Yes, based on their Lineages and interests.” Rikyava nodded at Rake, engaged in conversation now with two feline-looking ladies in matching saffron robes, their sleek black hair braided back and soft black fur covering their bodies. “Take Rake, for example. Though he’s Head Bartender, he’s also a Courtier. He gets hundreds of requests for personal Assignation sessions every week. But he’s very picky about whom he chooses to interact with one-on-one, and it seldom leads to sex. But if you want to have the most incredible, tantric, blow-your-mind engagement with the universe just from breathing – you’ll throw your money at Rake, and many do. He’s got regulars who travel thousands of miles to come see him. It’s very tender, really, to see him out in the gardens doing breathing sessions with his regulars.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“You will.” Rikyava smiled, sipping her water. Glancing at Layla’s drink, she asked. “What would you like to do next?”
Layla blinked, feeling strange. She didn’t have any clue as to what to do next, or what there was to do here for the staff, and her drink was far from done. “Are our obligations tonight finished?”
