Free Levet by Alexandra Ivy Page A

and handgun holstered at his hip.
    Never let it be said he went to a party underdressed.
    â€œNice isn’t a word I’d associate with this mob.”
    Tonya glanced toward the tribe of Sylvermysts who were reluctantly returning to their table. The warriors possessed the striking features of all fey with long hair in various shades of gold to chestnut. But their eyes blazed with a strange metallic sheen.
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” she purred. “There’s one or two I’d consider edible.”
    â€œYour definition of edible is appallingly indiscriminate.”
    She turned her head to study him with an all-too-knowing gaze. “Yeah, well, at least I haven’t been neutered.”
    Santiago curled his hands into tight fists, fury jolting through him. Oh no, she didn’t just go there.
    â€œCareful, Tonya.”
    â€œWhen was the last time you got laid?”
    The air temperature dropped by several degrees.
    â€œWe’re so not going to discuss this,” he snarled, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry. Despite the earsplitting music, there were demons who could hear a freaking pin drop a mile away. “Especially not in front of an audience.”
    Foolishly ignoring his don’t-fuck-with-me vibes, Tonya planted her hands on her full hips.
    â€œI’ve tried to discuss it in private, but you keep shutting me down.”
    â€œBecause it’s none of your damned business.”
    â€œIt is when your foul mood begins affecting the club.”
    His fangs throbbed. “Don’t press me.”
    â€œIf I don’t, who will?” The female refused to back down, the words she had clearly longed to fling at him for days at last bursting past her lips. “You prowl through the halls snapping at everyone who is stupid enough to cross your path. I’ve had six waitresses and two bouncers quit in the past month.”
    His jaw hardened with a stubborn refusal to admit she was right.
    If he did . . .
    Well, that would mean he’d have to admit he had been neutered.
    Not only sexually, although that was god-awful enough to admit. After all, he was a vampire. His appetite for sex was supposed to be insatiable.
    But his general lust for life . . .
    Suddenly his enjoyment in pursuing beautiful women and spending time with his clan brothers was replaced by a gnawing frustration. And his pride in running a club that was infamous throughout the demon world was replaced by an itch that he couldn’t scratch.
    It was something he was trying to ignore under the theory that it was like a bad hangover—something you suffered through and forgot as soon as the next party came along.
    â€œHire more,” he growled.
    Her eyes narrowed. “Easy for you to say.”
    â€œHey, you know where the door—”
    â€œI’m not done,” she interrupted.
    His dark brows pulled together in a warning scowl. “Imp, you’re pissing on my last nerve.”
    â€œAnd that’s my point.” She pointed a finger toward the belligerent crowd that continued to eyeball one another with the threat of violence. “This mood of yours is not only infecting the employees, but the patrons as well. Every night we’re a breath away from a riot.”
    He snorted, folding his arms over his wide chest. “I run a demon club that caters to blood, sex, and violence. What do you expect? Line dancing, gin fizzes, and karaoke?”
    â€œThe atmosphere is always aggressive, but in the past few weeks it’s been explosive. We’ve had more fights just tonight than we’ve had in the past two years.”
    â€œHaven’t you heard the news? We’re celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord,” he tried to bluster. “A new beginning . . . blah, blah, blah.”
    Like a dog with a bone, Tonya refused to let it go.
    â€œDoes that look like celebrating?” Once again, she stabbed her finger toward the seething crowd.