Lucifer’s Daughter(4)

“Can I get a beer, please,” came a deep baritone that made me want to shiver. I restrained myself, barely. You aren’t going to win, Daddy, I swore. I ignored sexy-voice--and my hormones–and polished the glass in my hand more vigorously.



“I don"t think she likes you,” teased a more mellow voice behind me. “I will show you how it"s done. Excuse me, my beauty, my friends and I are possessed of an awful thirst. Perhaps if you let us drink of your beauty, we would not expire.”

My eyebrows lifted and I really had to struggle not to laugh. Did that line seriously ever work?

Although I had to say, my vain side did suck in my stomach a bit further and stick my chest out a bit farther. Guilty–I liked compliments as much as the next girl.

“Oh, for fuck"s sake,” said a gravelly voice with a hint of disgust. “Wench, get us some beers, would you?” I froze, with my back still turned. Could it be? Had fate brought back the stranger from earlier?

Intrigued by his complete lack of manners and determined to finally see what he looked like, I turned around, only to realize I had no idea who the uncouth voice belonged to.

Grabbing a stein, I filled it with some ale; I didn"t ask them what type. They"d drink what I served them. I slapped it in front of the blond, who opened his eyes wide; his startled but low baritone saying „thank you" told me he wasn"t the one I wanted to see–although he definitely had a cute face. Maybe I shouldn"t entirely dismiss him.

A second mug of beer in front of the brunette, and I found the want-to-be Lothario. “Thank you, my beautiful rose. I–”

I ignored him; not as easy as it sounded, with his bright blue eyes and engaging smile. I turned to serve the third man, Mister Gravelly Voice, and the wall I"d rammed into earlier. Once I looked upon his face, I caught my breath and stared, intrigued. I also found myself caught in the grips of some severe lust.

Unruly ebony hair, an angular face, a wicked scar that went across his cheek, and the most piercing green eyes I"d ever seen. His lips twisted in a bit of a smirk at my perusal.

“Get a good enough look? Do you like my scar? I"ve got an even better one to show you if you want to go out back where we can be private.”

Ooh, attitude. I liked that in a man. “Who cares about your scar?” I said, smiling sweetly. I leaned forward so that the shadow of my cleavage distracted him. “I have scars, baby, that make yours look like a shaving cut. I was more interested in your coat. Where"d you get it?” A lie; okay, I had been checking him out, but hey, being the daughter of Satan, it was to be expected.

And as for my scars, I preferred not think about those right now. Needless to say, the things that gave me those weren"t happy campers anymore.

I think I caught green-eyes by surprise; I could see I"d shocked his friends. They started laughing. I turned a disdainful, ice princess look on them, one that gruff-voice aped; and under our dual stare, the two shut up pretty quickly--which made them go down a notch in my esteem.

Real men would not be cowed by a dirty look.



“I think we"ll get a table,” muttered the blond. Grabbing his beer, he and his friend-of-the-flowery-speeches scooted across the room to a table against the back wall. Actually, all my tables hugged a wall; funny, how paranoid supernatural beings could be. It made for an odd setup, but a great dance floor. The elves especially liked all the space for dancing when they"d had a few nectars too much.

Gravelly-voice watched his friends leave, then turned back to face me. “Who are you?” he asked.

“The bartender.” Smart ass comments were my specialty.

“Seriously. Who are you?” he asked again, looking at me intently with his green eyes, whose brightness and clarity reminded me of a soft spring grass. They contrasted nicely with his dark-and-dangerous look.

“Who are you?” I flashed back.

“I"m Auric.”

Auric, now there was a name you didn"t hear every day. I liked it, though. It felt masculine. “I"m Muriel, the bartender.” I gave him my middle name and skipped my first and last, for obvious reasons.

“No,” he said, slowly and thoughtfully. “You"re more than that.”

Perceptive of him. “Aren"t we all?” I said, gesturing to my usual mixed crowd of elves, dryads, gnomes, and other beings thought to belong in fairy tales. Oh, and there was even a demon in the back. He"d gotten thrown out of Hell for being too soft on the suffering, and was now currently drowning his sorrows with a couple of martini"s–stirred with two olives. Pussy.

“Maybe I should ask what you are. You"ve got a strange flavor to you,” I said. His own brand of uniqueness radiated from him--not quite good, yet not evil. Not anything I"d ever tasted, in fact.