Page 12 of Rescued By the Beast
"What that wolf did." The Beast looks at the table where the drunken werewolves were sitting. "Does this happen often?"
I shrug and give a crooked smile.
"It's part of the job."
"Char will hear me out. It's high time he put one of my security guards in charge of the employees. The useless ones he has here are good for nothing."
Oh, by the stars and Mother Moon!
I know he is trying to protect me, but this could get me fired if he gets into trouble with Char because of me!
"Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself," I reply, waving my hand in the air, trying to look unconcerned, but my heart is racing in my chest.
He just grunts, a low sound laden with irritation, making it clear that he is not convinced at all.
"Have you decided what you're going to order?" I change the subject, trying to ease the tension. With a broad smile, I add: "We have a new drink on the menu. They say it's super refreshing, maybe just what you need to cool down that hot head of yours, Mark."
As soon as the words come out, my heart skips a beat and I widen my eyes, completely mortified.
What the hell am I doing teasing this man? Do I want to die?
His friends burst out laughing.
He doesn't.
Mark watches me with his usual serious expression, a crease forming on his forehead, his face turning redder and redder. I notice his fingers curling over the table, his claws scratching the surface.
He looks like he wants to strangle me like he did the wolf.
Heaven help me, don't let him kill me...
"I prefer the house beer," he finally replies, and I can finally breathe.
I continue taking orders, trying to be subtle as I watch Mark out of the corner of my eye.
My heart continues to beat fast, my breathing is ragged, and an unexpected heat runs through my body, warming even the back of my neck.
I'm sure he can hear and even smell my reaction.
I need to pull myself together!
I shake my head, forcing myself to concentrate, and get back to work.
Thankfully, I don't have to worry about interacting with him again, as Mark leaves shortly after finishing his first drink.
When the clock strikes half past three in the morning, Char rings the bell, announcing the last round. I'm exhausted and hungry. The meal he offers to employees — which I devour minutes before starting my shift — has been corroded by my stomach centuries ago.
Pandemonium finally empties, I grab my tip box and sit on the stool to count it. I'm still pissed off because the damn werewolves — who consumed the most and made the biggest mess — didn't leave a penny.
Tomorrow I need to make twice as much as I did today. Only then will I have enough to pay the rent on Monday — assuming, of course, that I don't spend anything on anything else.
"Ready to go?" Luther suddenly appears beside me, almost knocking me off the stool.
"I thought you had already left with that human hanging on your neck." I raise my eyebrows, confused.
Luther smiles crookedly, shaking his head.
"You're wrong. You're the one I'm taking home." Before I can protest, he adds, as if it were obvious: "Haven't you seen the warning about monsters on the loose? It's not safe to go back alone."
