Page 11 of Orion: Galaxy Huntress

Chapter 5

Vice

“Someone here to see you, boss.”Rich my fellow demon and bartender jerked his head toward the bar.

Normally I didn’t employ demons in my bars and clubs. Bastards stole, lied, started bar fights, smashed glass, spurted blood everywhere, created a mess. God, cleaning up and all the shit. The former things I applauded, but unfortunately the customers didn’t. Humans could be so boring and predictable sometimes. But Rich was one of few rare, trustworthy devils. Unlike me. But we wouldn’t go there.

A sea of accounting paperwork piled up at my desk. Goddamn never-ending bills. Registrations and licenses to operate. Contracts for music acts performing at my nightclub downstairs. I left the headache at my office desk to go with him.

My palms came together to rub excitedly. Perhaps it was another hapless fool willing to sell his soul. I should be so lucky. Business had been a bit slow lately. Think the town heard about the last deal I made. I may have cheated the town mayor out of a good deal to run this city and got him involved in a slight scandal where he sent harassing mail to a competitor. No biggie. Charges may have been filed, his career flushed down the toilet. Plastered all throughout the local news. But politics in Bathurst had never been so free of corruption, which made it a win-win for the town. Not so much for me. I needed some more desperate local councilors to fill the void and make shady deals. Couldn’t fall behind on my KPIs.

Doubted that was who was here to see me, though. I would have felt the tug to the crossroads if it were someone coming to make a bargain. Most likely it was that damn wolf shifter, Ace, back to pick a bone with me. Woofy woof wolfy.

Okay, I may have added a little extra bonus to our deal. Couldn’t help myself. Deception was my trade. I shrugged. Don’t shoot the generous guy. Ace would be happy with the deal in the end. I’d just need to convince the dumb dog of it. Or his little mate would.

Speaking of his mate … the foxy little minx waited for me at the bar, decked out in a beautiful, twinkling, violet, pale blue, and rose quartz pink evening gown that showed off way too much cleavage appropriate for daytime Bathurst but very appropriate for me. Long, brown hair cascaded in curls down her chest. Bronze skin shimmered like she was some sort of goddess, and in my bed, I’d treat her as such. Mmm hmm. Cedar eyes like the bark of the tree by the same name that had bronze halos. High, butterfly peak above her sinful, plump lips. Somebody get some marble down here to carve this goddess.

“A little dressed up, aren’t we, kitten?” I asked her, drowning in her peach nectar scent. “We’re a jeans and low-cut shirt kind of establishment. Going to a ball, Cinderella?”

My questions prompted a hard frown on her features. “Hunters attend feasts not balls. What kind of odd name is Cinderella?”

Kids these days were raised on Disney. To not know who Cinderella was like being raised Amish. Please don’t let this kitten be innocent or I’d have to ruin her.

My wicked gaze dipped back to those luscious breasts and my fingers twitched to set on them. They ticked up to the evening gown sparkling like stars. Definitely overdressed. “Need a pair of glass shoes? Old Vice can deliver.”

“I need a pair of boots.” Flat. Firm. Feisty. Nope, she didn’t understand the reference. Still, I liked her. Little minx would keep old grumpy Ace on his toes. I had better leave town for a few days to let him cool off steam. Asshole would be back here demanding a refund or something.

Her eyebrow quirked, speaking volumes. Sharp, hard, and not fooled by my charm. No matter. I liked a challenge. Relished one.

“That’s why I came here, demon.” Her cedar eyes narrowed at me, and boy, did my dick go hard at the test in them. “I need new clothes, weapons, food, and travel expenses.”

Foxy little minx knew what I was. Saw past the glamor by the way she cast her eyes over me, roving up from my swishing tail to my wings, making my dick kick up.

I studied her, trying to make out her species. Witch, maybe? No glamor hiding an ugly three-hundred-year-old woman. Mermaid perhaps, with that enticing accent. Nah, no scales. Fae, possibly. Ears too short, though. Too much power thrumming through her. In the end, I settled on goddess because she had me stumped.

Lucky bastard, Ace.Pity I wasted the magick on someone as ungrateful as him.

When her beautiful, keen gaze settled on my single horn, I got a little bashful and scratched it. Nothing said virile for a male demon more than two long, sharp horns. The fact that I’d lost one shamed me. I shook off that thought to concentrate on swindling her. That always picked me up.

“Oh? Well, you came to the right place.” I held my palms out wide as I stepped around the bar. “Let me get you out of your clothes.”

She pulled tightly on the bow and arrow pouch slouched over her shoulder, stressing the fact that she was armed and packing. “Thank you, no. I’ll earn my clothes the old-fashioned way.”

My dick went still in my pants. Nothing screamed not getting laid like a woman resistant to my charms. And few were. Damn, I must have been losing my touch.

“Myra the witch sent me here to get a job and earn money,” kitten said in an underwear-melting accent that made my dick wriggle back to life. “What animal do you need hunted for your tavern?”

Hunt? No body hunted these days, except animal poachers. Loathsome humans. I made sure to give them horrible contracts when they’d come to me over the centuries. Bless them. They now burned in the pits of Dad’s domain. Had no problem with screwing humans for their souls, but animals were innocent.

Regardless of that fact, I just loved a little rebel, one who carried deadly weapons into my bar. Saucy little minx had me harder than stone, and I ached for a taste. Damn Ace. Lucky bastard. Just what had I created here for him? Badass mercenary. Check. Smart. Check. Sexy. Double check. Goddamn huntress warrior. Body made for sin. I’d never been prouder of one of my creations. This little vixen would eat Ace alive. He wouldn’t be able to handle her.

Damn shame I’d fashioned her for the wolf … or maybe not. Maybe this was a one-in-a-million let-out clause I’d allow. Then I could steal her for myself. The things I could do to her. My teeth ached to sink into that lavish booty, to leave an imprint, taste that sweet flesh. Lick it, lap at it, suck it, nibble it, tease it.

“I must thank the witch when I see her next.” Give her and her friends drinks on the house next Thursday night when they came to party. “Well, we’re running low on beef. Don’t suppose you could rustle me up some steaks?”

“Five gold coins and we have a deal.” Kitten stretched out a graceful, long arm, and my gaze dropped to her shapely fingers, tipped with elegant nails that I wanted scoring my flesh all night long.

Mercy!That accent was going to keep me hostage. Make me beg at her feet just to hear her speak. Woman and her endless curves reminded me of a sassy Sofia Vergara from ModernFamily.

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