Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
This particular bar was one of the upscale hot spots within the Underground. Neon, strobe lights slashed through the dark space and beamed through the fog. People were everywhere—the bar, the tables, the dance floor, the stage where the DJ performed.
It was always busy and it could get plenty rowdy to the point where the patrons would dance on speakers or tables, or even on the long bar. Khloë had been guilty of that many times.
“Are you worried that that asshole anchor of yours might turn up?” asked Khloë. “Is that why you didn’t want to leave ‘sober’ so far behind?”
Larkin had told the women about him earlier, and they now predictably despised him. “He probably wouldn’t come near me unless I was alone, but it seems better to have all my wits about me just in case I’m wrong.”
She hadn’t seen anything of Holt since he’d showed up at her building three days ago, but he hadn’t checked out of his hotel room. He was still in Vegas. It would only be a matter of time before he approached her again.
As such, lobbing back mounds of alcohol wasn’t the wisest thing for her to do. But it had been a while since she’d downed such strong drinks, and she’d forgotten how hard they hit.
“If Holt shows, we’ll pounce on him as a group,” said Khloë, playing with two lemon wedges, bitch-slapping each with the other. “As for you not wanting to be so blitzed, I have a solution: More shots.”
Piper’s brow furrowed. “I’m not seeing how that’s a solution. What am I missing?”
“We could drink ourselves sober,” the imp suggested. “It’s a thing.”
Raini raised a hand, once more removing the plastic stirrer from between her teeth. “I am all for this. But I want a rum and uh, you know, that thing . . . ”
“Coke?” supplied Harper.
Raini clicked her fingers. “That’s the one.” Shoving her pink-streaked blonde hair over her shoulder, she gave the sphinx a bright, grateful smile. “I can always rely on you to have the answers to my problems.”
Khloë put a hand to her chest. “Aw, that’s such a sweet thing to say. Why don’t you say it to me? I give you advice.”
“You give me advice that will cause me problems,” said Raini. “And you do it because you find the aftermath entertaining.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“I know. And I love you too.”
“For realsies?”
Raini wrapped her arms around the imp. “For realsies.” She let out a happy sigh. “You smell like chocolate.”
“Oh, I had a white Hershtley bar earlier . . . or whatever they’re called.”
Harper pulled a face. “They don’t really count as chocolate.”
Khloë blinked. “Huh?”
“White chocolate is just cocoa butter mixed with sugar and dairy milk and sweeteners like vanilla,” Harper expanded. “It doesn’t have the cocoa solids that are in both milk and dark chocolate.”
Khloë let out a disbelieving snort. “You talk such bullshit at times.”
“It’s true!” Harper insisted.
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
“It is! How can you so strongly doubt that yet fully believe that the moon’s made of cheese?”
“I trust my source. Aunt Mildred—”
“Ain’t real,” Devon cut in. “And neither is white chocolate.”
Khloë slammed up a hand. “Whatevs, bitches. Now I want shots.” She looked at the succubus who was still hugging her. “You coming?”
Raini let her arms slip away from the imp and then leaned back in her seat. “Leave me here. I’ll only slow you down.”
“No shots for me,” said Larkin. “I’m sticking to water for the rest of the night.”
Harper nodded. “Water it is.” She, Piper, and Khloë then made their way to the bar.
Devon took a sip of her cocktail. “If it makes you feel better, Lark, you’re not as hammered as Raini. I don’t think anyone in this bar is as hammered as Raini is right now.”
“Why is she in such a state?” From what Larkin had observed, the succubus wasn’t a lightweight.
“She made a rookie mistake and drank on an empty stomach. I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“I hate it when people don’t listen. And when they won’t go away. And when they screw you over and think you’ll simply just let it go.” Like Holt. Who she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. Ugh.
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have a psi-mate you’d prefer to shoot in the dick than bond with.” Devon idly stroked her fingertip down her highball glass, smudging the sheen of condensation. “How come you never told us about him before?”
Larkin lifted her glass. “Don’t take it personally. I make a point of not talking about him with anyone unless I absolutely have to. I prefer to pretend he doesn’t exist.” Cubes of ice clinked against the glass and bumped her lips as she took a sip of her drink.
“I guess I can understand that. It’s just that I’m sitting here remembering all the times I gushed about how much I adored my anchor and am grateful for how fabulous he is. The whole time, it must have hurt you to hear it.”