Virgin Daiquiri (Last Call #4)
Copyright Information
Virgin Daiquiri
Copyright © 2008 Moira Rogers
http://www.moirarogers.com
Smashwords
edition.
Originally
published by Changeling Press in 2008. Reissued by the author in
2012.
This is a work
of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights
reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations
in a book review.
Table of Contents
Virgin Daiquiri
Supernatural looking for a first lover.
Caitlin Carlson swore when an overly
enthusiastic dancer stepped off the floor and into her. Her vodka
tonic splashed across the front of her blouse, plastering the thin
fabric to her chest. “Terrific,” she mumbled. Oh, well. A
see-through shirt might draw some attention when she ordered her
next drink.
The plain font on the menu in her hand
stared mockingly up at her. She could order from the special house
menu, let everyone know what she wanted, but it didn’t guarantee
anyone would be interested in taking her upstairs.
At least I’d get a free drink
out of it,
she thought grimly and climbed the steps leading to the
central bar. She’d teased Ben once, telling him that a
complimentary drink was a poor consolation prize if you’d come to
the bar looking for a night of hot sex, but he’d just
laughed.
Probably because it almost never happens… please don’t
happen now.
She waved to Bernie, the bartender, whose
friendly smile melted into alarm as he caught sight of the menu in
her hands. When she stepped up to the bar, he gave her a stern
look. “You’d better be up here to chat, girl, because I know you
didn’t wait until Ben was out of town to come into his bar and
serve yourself up on a platter.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and laid
the menu on the bar. “Ben gets weird about it, but what’s the worst
that could happen? We both know this place is warded to hell and
back. It’s not like anyone’s going to
hurt
me.” She stopped talking when she realized
she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Virgin
daiquiri, please.”
“
Caitlin, come
on
.”
Bernie braced two large hands on the counter and leaned down until
he was face to face with her. “Honey, this is not the place you go
to lose your virginity unless you’re the kind of magical that could
kill your partner. And you’re not.”
She leaned in, too. “I’m the prophesied
daughter of the goddamned Dumitrescu family, Bernie. Whoever has
sex with me first is going to piss off a whole line of dark
witches. You think that couldn’t kill someone?”
“
Ben’s going to be back in
a week. Maybe less. And I thought you had another year before the
big mystical planetary alignment or whatever.”
That had always been the theory, but a dream
that hadn’t quite been a dream had told her differently. Even now
her family was gathered somewhere, arguing over whether or not they
should play it safe and wait out the year, or follow a more
dangerous path that would leave her dead inside a month. Time was
running out, and so were opportunities. She’d snuck past her
family’s vigilant guardianship tonight with luck and her ability to
see the future, but after tonight…
She met Bernie’s eyes. “You really want to
argue with a psychic about how much time she’s got left?”
He hesitated just long enough for her to
know she’d won. His gaze slid past her to the floor, and she
imagined he was sizing up the men, wondering if any of them could
be trusted with her. “Ben’s going to kill me,” he muttered as he
reached up without looking and pulled down a clean glass. “He’s
going to kick my ass up one side and down the other.”
“
If he tries,” she said
smoothly, “you send him to me, and I’ll remind him it could be
worse. I could still qualify for black magic
sacrifices.”
She pulled out a credit card and glanced
around as he mixed the slushy drink. People were staring already;
they always did when someone ordered from Bernie. She supposed they
liked to speculate about what people wanted. What they needed.
If they might be able to give it to
them.
Caitlin shivered and tugged at
the hem of her skirt. It was too short, even for someone of her
scant height, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a stereotypical
virgin, even if she
was
one.
Damn Ben, anyway. If he hadn’t gone and
found the love of his life, Caitlin could have eventually worked up
the nerve to ask him to do the honors. But he had, and she couldn’t
fault him for that. Only now she was stuck finding some stranger
to… deflower her? Make her a woman?
She giggled and snorted, then took a deep
breath. Three vodka tonics had perhaps been too many, but she’d
needed them. She’d sip her daiquiri and wait until someone
appropriate came along. She’d be choosy but not picky, and clear
about the rules.
It would be fine.
Leo knew she was a virgin. He knew it before
Bernie’s voice cut through the music and announced that the cute
little brunette at the bar had ordered a virgin daiquiri. Seventeen
hundred years on Earth had given him some finely-honed instincts,
but he didn’t think there had ever been a time when a virgin
psychic hadn’t stirred the magic inside him. He was, after all, a
demon.
And probably the only one in the bar who
didn’t get hard at the thought of corrupting the woman. The
half-dozen demons in Last Call were already winding through the
crowd, intent on out-maneuvering each other to win the prize at the
bar. Their excitement crackled through the crowd as an undercurrent
only another demon could feel, and the whole thing made Leo feel
just a little bit old.
Then again, he
was
old. Most demons
corrupted their way to a higher -- well,
lower
-- plane well before five hundred years
had passed. He’d never understood their desire to leave Earth, not
even in the tumultuous years before modern conveniences. And
now…
Life as a filthy rich playboy suited Leo. He
liked the willing women and the satellite cable and life in a world
of both light and dark. And he really liked enjoying sex because it
was fun, and not because he’d get frequent corrupter miles that
could be traded in for favors from the evil powers.
So he told himself he wasn’t interested in
the hot little number at the bar, even if he was already halfway to
hard and admiring the way her too-short skirt bared a gorgeous
expanse of leg.
But he wasn’t interested in her. He
wasn’t.
A bar regular --
Michael
,
he
remembered -- whistled as he walked over. “Bernie’s calling an SOS.
Says the Virgin Daiquiri is a friend of Ben’s, and it’s up to you
to make sure she doesn’t take a demon upstairs.”
Being the oldest demon in the northern
hemisphere did have its disadvantages, like being expected to keep
the rest of them in line just because they were terrified of him.
Leo sighed and glanced at the bar, where the huge bartender was
watching the approaching wave of demons with a determined look.
“None of them will harm her,” he felt compelled to point out.
“Place is too well warded for that. Worst they can do is whisper
some dirty promises in her ear, and Ben can straighten her out
later.”