Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  Blinking out of her stupor, she swallowed hard and nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Marilee! Get these orders out, dammit!”

  She quickly made the drink for the man at the bar and turned to grab the food Charlie had set out several minutes ago. The looks she received from the cook and Hank himself, who leaned against the back wall, competed with those of her customers in the glare of death contest.

  About damn time.

  I bet that hair came from a bottle. Probably thinks she’s hotter than me, and if John doesn’t quit looking at her ass in those little shorts…

  This food better be worth the wait.

  Maybe if I leave a big tip, she’ll let me in those shorts.

  Hot little thing, but she sucks as a waitress.

  Marilee ground her teeth together and fought to push the thoughts out of her head as she made her way back over to the bar. All the while, she felt the weight of the man in black leather’s stare on her.

  “Move!” Brenda barked as she cut her off to slide behind the bar. “Table five requested you,” she said bitterly, grabbing two frosty mugs out of the cooler to fill up at the tap.

  Marilee glanced over to the corner table where the man stared her down. “I have to get beers over to tables eight and ten.”

  “I’ll take them,” Brenda offered, grabbing two more mugs, “and I’ll take your tips for those tables.”

  “Bitch,” Marilee grumbled as she watched the she-devil carry the tray of beers over to one of the tables.

  “Table five hasn’t been served,” Hank reminded her, a deep scowl etched into his face, as he stepped past her to get to the kitchen.

  Biting back the impulse to tell him to go to hell, Marilee squared her shoulders and walked over to the corner table, where the trouble she’d sensed awaited.

  She’d killed men like him before, but there was something about this one, some secret hidden in the depths of those inky blue eyes that told her this one wasn’t like any man she’d come across before.

  “What can I get you?” she asked in a low voice as she reached the table. “A Bloody Mary? Maybe a Bloody Nancy? Or Susan?”

  The side of his mouth turned up into the slightest hint of a smile. “I like your accent, and your humor. Am I that obvious?”

  “The leather jacket in the middle of a Texas summer was a dead giveaway,” she answered, ignoring the little sparks of electricity shooting through her system at the sound of his rich, melodic voice. “A human wouldn’t have lasted a minute without keeling over from heatstroke.”

  He glanced down at his attire, grinned, and then let his gaze slowly wander up her body. “You’re certainly dressed for the heat.”

  Marilee folded her arms in front of her chest, desperate to stop the tingling sensation in her breasts caused by the man’s perusal. He was a bloodsucker for crying out loud, the last thing he should be doing was turning her on. “What do you want?” she asked, wishing she hadn’t worn such a snug T-shirt.

  He cocked his head to the side and chuckled, low and throaty. “Isn’t it customary for waitresses to be pleasant to their customers?”

  “When those customers are drinking beer or Coke, not blood.” She glanced around to make sure no one overheard her and found Hank watching her with narrowed eyes. He jerked his head toward table nine where the trio she’d served earlier were glaring at her, empty beers in hand.

  “I’ve got other tables, so if you would just do us both a favor and l—” She turned around to see the vampire looking back at her with an air of impatience, a menu open in front of him on the table.

  “I’ll take the T-bone, very rare.”

  “I’ll just bet you will.” Marilee angrily scribbled the order onto her pad. “If you so much as look at anyone here the wrong way, I’ll kill you whether there are witnesses or not.”

  “I was warned that you would, Marilee.”

  Her hand froze over the pad and she clenched her fingers tight around the pen to hide any visible shaking. “How the hell do you know my name? We don’t wear nametags here and I sure didn’t introduce myself.”

  “You have other tables, Marilee.” He looked past her. “And your boss looks very irritated. I’d suggest you turn in that order and see to your other customers.”

  “Blood-sucking son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath as she turned to head for the bar, worry producing a ball of nausea in her stomach.

  The vampire’s deep chuckle let her know he’d heard her.

  “I don’t know what it is about you that fine hunk of sexiness finds so appealing,” Brenda muttered as she continued putting freshly washed mugs into the cooler. “Barely a curve on you.”

  Marilee bit her tongue and continued wiping down the bar. She could always kick the more-fat-lumps-than-actual-curves-bitch’s ass in the parking lot. After she got paid for the night. And what a night it had been, with table after table of customers. Friday and Saturday nights usually were busy, but in the three weeks she’d been in the little Texas town, she’d never seen it so packed. Her feet ached from the constant walking and standing, and a headache was starting to form from the concentrated effort it took to block out the thoughts of the people surrounding her. She was normally much better at blocking, but everything about this night was off. Especially the man still sitting in the corner watching her intently, the steak he’d ordered untouched. “Trust me, he’s not my type.”

  “You can go on home, Brenda,” Hank said, strolling behind the bar. “Tell that man over there we’re closing up, would ya?”

  “Love to.” Brenda pushed up her boobs, sucked in her gut, and sauntered over to the table, her hips whipping back and forth so fast, it was a wonder she managed to move forward.

  “You know that gangster?” Hank asked, his tone indicating his disapproval.

  Marilee glanced up from the bar to see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bloodthirsty following Brenda out the door. He looked back at her and that near-grin he was good at doing showed itself. Marilee’s heart slammed into her throat. Brenda was a bitch, but if he so much as touched one hair on her head he would meet his maker before the night was through.

  So dramatic. Which maker do you refer to? I already killed my sire.

  Marilee gasped as the vampire’s voice registered clearly in her head. She’d picked up on people’s thoughts before, but never had anyone spoken directly to her through her mind, let alone read it.

  Relax, little vampire killer. The redhead will not be harmed.

  “Marilee!”

  She jerked, and turned to see Hank’s irritated scowl. “Where is your head, tonight, girl?” He slammed the cash drawer closed and started counting out bills. “Here.”

  Marilee took the small wad of bills he handed her and frowned. She didn’t need to count it to know she was about to get really upset. “This isn’t what we agreed to, Hank.”

  “That’s the thing about working under the table,” he said with a smug grin. “Who you gonna complain to?”

  “You son of a—”

  “Watch it, girl.” He fanned the bills in his hand. “That tone might guarantee you don’t see another dime.”

  Marilee’s hands tightened into fists. “I’m leaving town tomorrow, Hank. I don’t give a damn whether you employ me another night or not.”

  “Oh, just skipping out, are we?” He chuckled. “Wasn’t even going to tell me, and you wonder why I don’t give you the amount we agreed to? Face it, you’re not the best waitress. You know the drinks, but your customer service skills are seriously lacking.”

  “I had an off night.” And yours is about to get even worse if you don’t pay me right.

  “Whatever. I got several complaints about you. In fact, I could have lost business tonight thanks to you.”

  Marilee rolled her eyes. “You don’t have any competition in this town, Hank. Your drunks aren’t going anywhere else. Just pay me what we agreed on and you’ll never see me again.”

  “You ha
ven’t earned the amount we agreed on.” He leaned against the bar, his arms folded as his beady eyes roamed down her body. “But there’s still time for you to earn the difference.”

  Marilee’s stomach rolled as his intent dawned. “Hank, there’s not enough money in the world for what you’re wanting from me.”

  His eyes darkened. “I know your type. You come around looking for under the table work because you’re running from something. You either knocked off a convenience store, ran a scam, or poisoned your cheating boyfriend. I don’t know what you did and I don’t care.” He stepped closer. “You need money to leave with, and there’s only one way you’re going to get it.”

  “Prying it out of your cold, dead hands?”

  He stepped back, swallowed hard at the implication, but the moment of fear was fleeting. Understandably. His six foot one bulky frame dwarfed her five foot seven slender form. “A little scrap of a girl like you can’t do much damage.”

  He stepped forward again and trailed a finger over her shoulder, down the length of her arm. “Now are you going to earn the money or not?”

  Marilee pulled away from the man’s vile touch, and cursed her rotten luck. She was getting out of town, with or without the money he still owed her. She had bigger problems than being strapped for cash, and those problems had fangs and killer blue eyes. “Fry in hell, Hank. I’m out of here.”

  She rounded the bar and headed for the door, but didn’t make it far before Hank’s beefy hand clamped onto her upper arm and jerked her around.

  “Maybe you didn’t understand.” He shoved her until her back hit the bar. “You’re earning the difference.”

  Marilee ignored the pain in her lower back and quickly assessed the situation. She could smell whiskey on Hank’s breath, his eyes were a tinge glassy. The man was drunk. Drunk men could be dangerous. She knew from experience gained long before she’d ever set foot in a bar to work.

  “Hank, let me go.” She’d stay calm. Calm would keep the situation from escalating.

  “You’ll like it, girlie.” He accentuated his statement by unbuckling his belt.

  How he could find it beneath his rotund belly, Marilee didn’t know, and she intended to stop him before he found the snap to his jeans, too.

  “I don’t know about that, Hank. I’m not big on pork.” She kneed him in the groin and made a run for the door while he was bent over sucking in wind. Calm had flown out the window the moment his belt buckle came undone.

  Something grabbed the back of her waistband and she found herself back against the bar, a red-faced, thoroughly pissed off Hank bent, but not broken, before her. “You fucking whore. You’ll pay for that.”

  Marilee struggled against his hold on her arm, but couldn’t break free unless she snapped the bone. Though she’d broken bones before, she hesitated now. The jerk certainly deserved a maimed body part or two, but she couldn’t do it so coldly. Not to a human. “Hank, you’re drunk. Just let me go and we’ll forget about this.”

  “Wrong, blondie.” He used his free hand to tug at the snap to her cutoffs. “You’ll never forget this.”

  Marilee looked around the bar for a weapon, seeing no knives or sharp instruments. The sound of her zipper sliding down sent her heart racing into her throat, her mind reeling back to her childhood. Not again!

  She kicked out, knocking Hank off balance enough for her to climb over the bar. He grabbed her by the waist and tugged her back down, but not before she snatched a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar.

  “Come here, bitch.” Hank spun her around and his head met the bottom of the whiskey bottle. He groaned in pain, bending over as shards exploded against his skull, but he was quickly up again.

  His arm whipped out and the back of his hand slapped hard against Marilee’s jaw. Stars flew out before her eyes as her head whipped to the side.

  “Bitch!” He grabbed Marilee and slammed her onto the top of the bar. “Hit me again and I’ll break you into pieces.”

  He climbed over the stools and onto the bar, straddling her legs tight to keep her from kneeing him again. She kept a knife in her ankle boot. If only she could get to it. Hank slapped her again, the hit leaving a burning path along her other cheek and she reflexively covered her face with her hands to ward off more blows.

  Whiskey dripped off his head onto her hands and she choked back a scream as the sound of his zipper rustled. All of the sudden she was fifteen years old and trapped under a man again. Then, suddenly, she was free.

  She blinked as the weight of the large man disappeared, and lowered her hands to seek out the source of commotion she heard. Sitting up, slowly so she didn’t throw up from the nausea the movement caused, she gasped at the scene she witnessed.

  The mysterious vampire growled in rage, his eyes glowing with power as he bashed Hank’s body repeatedly into the bar. The bar owner screamed in between sounds of agony.

  “Stop! You’ll kill him!”

  The vampire paused mid-body slam and stared at her in disbelief. “You would have a problem with that after what he was about to do to you?”

  Marilee looked down to find her shorts around her knees. Heat flooding her face, she jerked them up to cover her teal and black striped bikini panties and slid off the bar. The vampire reached out with one hand to help her, Hank dangling like a limp ragdoll from the other.

  “Don’t touch me.” Marilee sidestepped his hand, earning a look of contempt, and quickly zipped up her cutoffs. Her head spun and her lunch threatened to rise. She vaguely recalled her head slamming into the bar and figured she probably had a concussion. Great. Like she needed another problem added to the already too long list.

  Hank made a gurgling sound and the vampire focused his attention back on him. “Shut up, you filthy swine.”

  Marilee took advantage of the vampire’s shift in attention and raised her foot so she could quickly extract the blade from the sheath hidden inside her boot. She’d paid a pretty penny for the custom dagger she’d designed herself, but it was worth it. The silver blade was sharp enough to slice through anything—she’d chopped off fingers, bones and all, with it—and had a handle made of hawthorn, a type of wood vampires couldn’t tolerate.

  The vampire raised Hank in the air, his hand clamped tight around the creep’s throat, and directed his gaze back to Marilee. It quickly shifted to the dagger she held poised for attack. “You’d pull that on me, but not a man about to rape you?”

  He made a sound of disgust in his throat, and Marilee felt a pang of… guilt? She shook her head, shaking the odd feeling away. The vampire protected her, but it didn’t change what he was.

  “I believe there’s an issue of money.”

  She blinked, wondered how the vampire knew so much. “He didn’t pay me the amount we agreed on for me working here.”

  “Get what you’re owed, and let’s go.”

  Marilee opened her mouth to tell the vampire she wasn’t going anywhere with him, but he turned his gaze on her again. His eyes glowed with a terrifying degree of power. “Get what you are owed. Now,” he added between clenched teeth and bared fangs.

  Marilee looked at Hank’s mottled, blue-tinged face, and swallowed hard. A human man was about to die and the blood would be on her hands. Fighting back another wave of nausea, she bent down to retrieve the bills Hank had dropped during their altercation. Careful to avoid shards of glass littering the floor, she collected the money—some of it wet from spilled whiskey—and shoved it into her front pocket.

  “Is that it, or does he owe you more?”

  “That’s it.” It was probably a little bit more than the agreed upon amount, but hey, being sexually assaulted gave her the right to charge interest.

  The vampire nodded, turned his head toward Hank and lowered the bar owner so they were face to face. “Thank God for second chances and pray for forgiveness,” he growled and effortlessly threw the man over the bar, sending his body crashing into the mirrored wall which shattered
on impact.

  She’d seen vampires in action before, but this one was different. He was far more powerful than those she’d fought, so powerful his energy sucked the air out of the room. And what was with the glowing eyes? She’d never seen that before.

  When he returned his attention to her she looked into those dark blue eyes, full of simmering rage, saw herself being thrown across a room, and took off at a run right out the door. She was scared, beyond that, she was piss-in-her-pants terrified. It didn’t matter that she’d killed vampires before. Instinct told her this one wouldn’t go down easy.

  She pushed away the nausea clawing at her belly and struggled to keep the world around her in focus as she ran down the street. It was late and all the bar’s patrons were long gone from the area. She had to run. She had to find a place to hide.

  She had to throw up.

  Diving into a narrow alley, she braced a hand against a brick wall and bent over. Her lunch threatened to rise again, but all she could produce was a strong set of dry heaves. It reminded her she needed to eat more.

  “You really shouldn’t overexert yourself if you’re concussed.”

  Marilee spun around and came face to face with the vampire. He’d snuck up on her without a sound.

  “Stay away from me.” She held the dagger out, reminding him she was armed.

  He frowned at the weapon. “It’s disturbing how ready you are to use that on me, but not the man who attacked you.”

  Marilee recalled him saying something similar back at the bar and felt the twinge of guilt again. Why, she didn’t know. “What do you want from me?” To kill me, obviously. Duh.

  He grinned, but his eyes didn’t show humor. “I’m not here to kill you, Marilee. If I was, why would I have bothered protecting you from that animal?”

  Good point, unless he just enjoyed the thrill of the chase. And how did he know her name? “You never answered my earlier question.”

  He cocked his head to the side, raised an eyebrow.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I was sent here to retrieve you.”