Just like Sam throwing him out of her bed for no real good reason. The gods only knew what he'd said that had ticked her off.
Quinn started rinsing the dirty plates before putting them in the dishwasher. "So what are you doing awake? You don't normally get up till dinnertime."
"Couldn't sleep."
Quinn wiped his forearm across his forehead to brush back a stray piece of curly blond hair. "You're off tonight, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
His brother let out a long sympathetic breath. "Man, sucks to be you."
Dev didn't comment on his sarcasm as he left the sink and headed toward the door that opened into the club. His older brother, Alain, manned the bar of the almost empty place. There was only a tiny number of humans playing pool in back and eating at the tables at the front of the club.
Alain paused as he caught sight of him. "What are you doing up?"
That was the drawback of being nocturnal. If he ever rose before sunset, his family ragged him over it. "The apocalypse cometh. Thought I ought to be awake for it."
Alain snorted. "You know, to most people, that would be a joke. But around here..."
He had a point. Dev probably shouldn't kid about such a likely scenario. "Not very busy, huh?"
"You missed the lunch crowd. We were actually shorthanded."
"Why didn't you call up for help?"
Alain shrugged nonchalantly. "You guys were up too late dealing with the demon mess. Didn't want to disturb y'all. We handled it without too much of a tragedy."
"You didn't eat any of the tourists, did you?"
Alain grunted. "Nah, but Aimee probably would have had she been here."
Dev smiled as he thought about how cranky his sister could be when people were difficult. Aimee definitely had her moments. "Then it's a good thing you let her sleep."
"Absolutely." Alain looked down at the motorcycle helmet in Dev's hand. "You riding?"
"No. I'm standing."
Alain made a sound of supreme annoyance. "You know what I meant."
"Yeah." Dev put his helmet under his arm. "Feeling restless. Thought it might take the edge off."
Alain gave him a wicked grin. "I know something else that could take the edge off."
Dev snorted. "Yeah, well, I ain't had none of that in a while neither." He wasn't about to tell even his brother where he'd spent the morning. The less people knew about that, the better off he'd be.
"I noticed you haven't been mauling the babes who come in here like you used to. You feeling okay?"
"Not dead yet." But wishing he was, rather than to stand here longing for something he couldn't have.
Dev inclined his head to his brother. "See you in a little while." Without another word, he headed out the back door to where they kept their motorcycles stashed. His was a sleek 2007 black, silver, and red Suzuki GSX-R 600. Furiously fast, dangerous, and curvaceous...
Just like he preferred his women.
But the truth was, the gixxer wasn't what he really wanted to be riding. He'd much prefer something tall and blond who walked like she owned the world.
Don't go there, Bear.
If only he could stop his thoughts that easily. Damn, what was it with Sam that he couldn't stay focused on anything else? He started his bike, then pulled the helmet on while it warmed up. His adrenaline pumping, he gunned it out of the lot and headed into the street with no real destination in mind. He just needed to be away from people and animals for a while.
He went screaming down I-10 at over a hundred miles an hour--a suicide pace for a human. It wasn't really smart for a shapeshifter either. And in the end, it didn't do anything to settle his mood. He still felt like he was on edge.
After an hour, he found himself down on St. Charles Ave. Some of the most beautiful homes in New Orleans were located here, but it was one in particular that drew him to this street.
Sam would probably kill him if she knew he was outside her black wrought-iron gate like some lunatic stalker. He'd be the first one to admit it was creepy. He damn sure wouldn't like anyone doing it to him.
Yet here he sat like some lovesick teen hoping to catch a glimpse of his latest crush.
I seriously need help.
Maybe Grace Alexander would be able to fit him into her client list. She was a psychologist who catered to the preternatural crowd, surely she could help him.
Bear, there ain't no help for you. You're pathetic. Chasing after a woman who threw you out of her bed...
He wasn't going to argue that.
Dev shut the shield on his helmet, intending to head home. But as he reached for the throttle, a weird sensation went down his spine.
Daimons.
There was no mistaking the feeling. It was hot and stinging. Turning the bike off, he put down the stand and listened carefully. If he knew Sam better, he'd flash into her house to check on her. But she was as likely to stab him as she was to thank him for that.
You're being stupid. There's nothing here.
Just his pathetic subconscious looking for an excuse to get invited into her house again.
Yet he couldn't shake the feeling.
Sighing at his own idiocy, he started his bike and peeled off.