“I’m sure you are. I know your type.” The bartender winked, returning to his blood Martini. “Fine. Keep the ring on. As long as you can vouch for her.”
Apart from the fangs, the guy really didn't seem like a vampire. Vampires weren’t supposed to wink.
Caine grabbed Rosalind’s hand and led her to the bar. She shot him a quick glance. His features were relaxed. Impressive lying—a crucial skill in any mage’s repertoire. Is there a chance he’d been lying about incubi?
Apparently, she was supposed to pretend to be his girlfriend. She could live with that if it meant she could get her life back. All part of the mission.
Caine led her to the silver bar stools, where Aurora was already knocking back a glass of blood.
Blood-drinkers and demons. This was her new crowd. She took a seat next to Caine, who leaned on the bar.
Drying a Martini glass, Jorge nodded at him. “What can I get for you? The usual?”
“The usual. And the same for my girlfriend.”
Jorge nodded. “Two bourbons, and two dinners of food.”
She turned to Caine, her stomach rumbling. She didn’t have high hopes for the menu. “Two dinners of food?”
He leaned in to her. “He hasn’t eaten food in several centuries. Don’t expect anything amazing.”
“What are you implying?” Aurora asked. “Vampires can’t cook?”
He stared at her. “You tried to make me ramen noodles in a tea kettle.”
Aurora shook her head. “What’s the problem? That’s what I ate when I was a human.”
“I guess that’s what happens when you die in college,” Caine said.
Jorge filled two tumblers with bourbon, sliding them over the bar.
Rosalind cocked her head, glancing at Caine. “You don’t drink blood?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why would I drink blood?”
“I thought mages drank human blood. From skulls. But if you’re an incubus…” She let the thought die out on her tongue. There was no way she wanted to vocalize that he gained power through sex.
“Right. Mages drink blood. Just like we all have to glamour ourselves to hide our deformities.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “No. I’m pretty sure we’ve established that’s bollocks. I’m gorgeous, and you’re the blood-drinking human.”
Shit. She’d forgotten about the ambrosia. Maybe it was possible. After all, Blodrial was known as the sacred god of blood. The Guardians were a little obsessive about the drink. It wasn’t human blood, but—on the other hand—maybe trying to rationalize blood drinking was not a good sign.
Jorge dropped off two white plates, piled with food. At least, technically it was food: a pile of Swedish fish, two uncooked tortillas, a stack of American cheese slices, and a frozen pancake, artfully presented on a doily.
It was the most screwed-up meal she’d ever seen, but her mouth watered anyway. Hunger gnawed in her stomach.
With her fork, she lifted a tortilla, grimacing. Within the tortillas, candy hearts were stuck in a smear of jam. Red slogans emblazoned their surfaces: Love Me, Hot Lips, and XOXO. This had to be the weirdest quesadilla in the history of “dinners of food.”
Caine handed her a blue heart: Adore me. “This one’s for you. A reasonable suggestion.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to take that from you. I don’t think I could ever adore you as much as you do.”
“Give me your pancake.”
“What?”
“There are only two edible things on that plate. The candy fish and the pancake. At least let me warm it for you.” He reached over, spearing the pancake on his fork. After he chanted a quick spell, it thawed and toasted to a golden brown. He dropped it on her plate again. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
She nearly cracked a smile for the first time since the Brotherhood had come for her. The truth was, Caine had been helping her.
She just had no idea why.
She took a bite of the pancake. Sweet and fluffy. Within about twenty seconds, she’d chomped through the entire thing, before stuffing a handful of Swedish fish into her mouth. She moved on to the American cheese slices, and when she was unwrapping the final piece she looked up to find Caine eyeing her with concern.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat that fast,” he said. “I’m a little alarmed.”
Aurora stared over her drink. “Unsettling, really. It reminds me a little of that time I saw Horace eat a truck driver outside a McDonald’s.”
“I haven’t eaten in a full day.” She was still grumpy, in fact. She whispered, “What do you think the chances are that a high demon will come in?”
He shrugged. “Fifty-fifty. Might be fun, really. But if it happens, you should get out of here. Let me handle it.”
The arrogance on this guy. “What are you going to do, toast some waffles for him? Burn his bagel until he’s cross?”
“You’re still cranky.” Caine handed her his pancake. “Have mine.”
He glanced down the bar, catching Jorge’s eye.
Smiling, the bartender sidled up to them. “How were the dinners?”