Page 9 of Rescued By the Beast
"Depends. What do I get in return?"
"Maybe some decorative cuts on that pretty face, you're asking for it." I show my claws, a threat dancing at my fingertips, but my smile betrays the amusement of the provocation.
"Wow, such violence." He pouts, exaggerated as always, as if he were truly offended. "But what if I prefer something... less aggressive? Do you have a more interesting proposal?"
"Luther." I let out an exasperated sigh. "Now is not the time for jokes."
"All right, what do you need?" He straightens his posture, but the mocking gleam still dances in his eyes.
"Will you serve table seven in my place?" I whisper, lowering my voice as if that would save my pride. "Please."
He looks over my head and makes a discreet grimace when he sees the couple. When he looks back at me, one of his long, silver strands falls over his eyes, which now analyse me with a tense expression.
"Ah,them." He nods, understanding perfectly. "You know, if you had agreed to go out with me, none of this would have happened." He smiles, clearly trying to ease the tension.
"It's not funny, Luther." I push his shoulder lightly, trying to dispel the awkwardness.
"As if you don't know my reputation." He winks, amused, before shrugging.
Oh, yes. His famous reputation as a generous lover who drives women and men crazy. Luther doesn't hide how lustful he is; in fact, he prides himself on it.
Funny how things work.
I, who have only agreed to sleep with one man in my entire life, am the one with the reputation of being a slut.
"It's precisely because of your reputation that I won't accept." I wrinkle my nose.
"I would change for you."
"I'll believe it when I see it!" I stick my tongue out at him, and he smiles and winks at me before serving the table.
Luther was the first supernatural friend I made when I started working here almost a year ago. His charming and outgoing personality is irresistible, attracting everyone around him. Being the son of an incubus and[1] explains a lot. Over time, I realised that he uses this skillfully to get what he wants.
I don't judge him. I do the same when necessary.
And as much as I like him as a friend, I'm afraid to cross that line.
I prefer relationships without feelings, without creating emotional ties. That way, I have no chance of being abandoned, hurt...
I know it was stupid of me to go out with some of the regulars at the place where I work.
Supernatural ones, at that.
I should try my luck with ordinary, harmless, decent humans.
But how can I find such people when I spend most of my life here in the tavern or in the run-down and dangerous neighbourhood where I live?
Before I moved there, I hardly ever left the house where I lived with my grandmother. I was her carer, I gave up going to college to stay by her side and support her in those long years of struggle. I didn't have time to meet people, let alone find a boyfriend.
"Forget it, Sandra," I whisper to myself. Especially because, after the incident with that treacherous scoundrel, I'm going to stay away from men, supernatural or not.
I try to focus on my work, serving the tables with the best of attitudes. I force a smile, ignore the tasteless comments and laugh at the unfunny jokes, all to ensure better tips.
I walk over to the werewolves' table, their loud laughter and unfiltered conversation filling the tavern, drowning out the sound of other voices. They have been the biggest consumers of the night, which forces me to tolerate more than I would like. I reach them and, before I can say anything, I feel a hand slide down my body and squeeze my bum.
The shock paralyses my feet for a second, while drunken laughter explodes around me.
"How about getting with a real man, sweetheart?" says a lupino with black hair and grey eyes. I try to pull away from his grip, but his fingers press harder.
