There was no greater annoyance than having to deal with the most arrogant man in the world and pretending like everything was fine and dandy when all she wanted to do was to leave as soon as she could. Indigo Cris was a patient woman, but patience had all kinds of layers, and Dean Williams III didn’t seem to have any problem in testing each and every one of them.
So it was a relief for her to be stepping out of the marketplace and into the place where she could take a breather: the human world. Specifically, SoHo—this beautiful, problematic neighborhood in New York where humans came in droves and drank like there was no tomorrow, translating to a higher income.
Coincidentally, it was also where her earnings had the most value.
The portal gleamed against the wall as Indigo stepped out of it and into another alley, but she ignored it and kept moving forward, knowing no one was going to come here and see it. She kept walking, ignoring the streetlights and open stores as she hailed a taxi and barked out her destination. A few minutes later, she was walking in a district filled with bars, clubs and art galleries, and she entered one of the bars and slid behind the long bar right away.
“How are things going so far?”
The bartender nodded at her, mixing drinks at a speed that impressed her. That was the cool thing about humans—their ability to adapt and do things even better using their hands, to compensate for the fact that they had no magic or special abilities.
“Steady flow of customers,” the bartender reported easily. “No trouble. Since it’s Friday, we’re expecting some college kids to come in later.”
“Great. Make sure to ID them.”
She watched the steady flow of glow in the liquid being mixed, liking how it never dimmed and only created attractive colors. That was her bar’s specialty, derived from her bar’s name: IndiGlow, something she named for kicks and turned into something successful.
Apparently, humans liked trends—a lot.
And glowing stuff was just one of those trends.
Her eyes scanned the bar, where most of the seats were already taken, and everyone’s tables seemed to be already served. Satisfied, she went ahead and helped the bartender with the remaining drinks, feeling a certain enjoyment at how good she was getting at it.
There were plenty of ways a hag could use her talent in making money, and most ventured into trading with other creatures or putting up businesses in the marketplace, whether it was a stall or a huge establishment. Running bars had never been part of Indigo’s plan, but here she was: running two bars in two worlds and earning a lot more money than she should have. She liked it that way, and she didn’t mind having to alternate daily between the two bars.
She was good at not getting caught, considering she’d been doing this for a good year now. Indigo wanted to maintain that, so she could keep earning that money. Then she’d retire early and enjoy her money—probably here, too, where she’d practically be a billionaire.
The thought erased whatever bad mood a certain arrogant shifter gave her, and soon Indigo found herself hyped up as she went to check the kitchen before changing into nicer clothes in her office—a sparkly black dress that was glamorous and sophisticated at the same time. She then put on some comfortable boots for better navigating, wanting to help out as much as she could tonight.
Indigo jumped into the fray in no time, getting herself busy until she eventually forgot about the marketplace and was focused on the present. Her bartender, Andy, was right. College kids came in after a few hours, ready to unwind and kick off the weekend with a wild start. The orders came in droves, and she helped with what she could before stepping back and roaming around to make sure that nothing was getting out of hand and egos remained in check. It was odd, because humans fought just as much as other creatures despite their supposedly non-violent nature. She concentrated on an almost-fight now as a couple argued in low tones about some woman the guy was cheating on her with. Indigo frowned.
Yeah, dump him. You’re better off alone.
She observed another couple, who looked like they were practically swallowing each other’s faces and about to fuck right then and there.
You’re both too young. You won’t last long.
Another couple, this time two men trying to be subtle. She tilted her head as she observed that one, wondering how their sex life worked.
“You look pretty lonely out here,” a male voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up just in time to find a middle-aged man sitting beside her—sitting close, leaving almost no space between them. He had a certain look in his gaze as he eyed her up and down, not keeping it remotely subtle.
The urge to snort was almost at the tip of her tongue, but Indigo held it back and tried to smile—a polite smile because humans were all about that.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, hoping it was enough to make the guy back off. But she’d been here long enough to know it wasn’t going to work because there was one thing both worlds shared: men were the same and couldn’t take a hint.
“I bet you’d look even finer with a drink in your hand,” the man insisted, hailing a waiter with a hand. That hand, instead of landing back on his lap, landed on her shoulders, and she shrugged him off almost immediately and tried to stand up. But the same hand shot out and pulled her back down, making her patience thin all over again as she tried to figure out her options.
Here she was, supposed to alleviate trouble, but about to make trouble herself with this piece of shit who thought he could have his way with her.
“Sex on the beach for the lady,” the man shouted, obviously finding himself so smooth for saying that. He tugged her closer, and her teeth almost bared in response. He tried to slide his hand under her dress, and her hand came up to shove his face off—
Another hand appeared and removed his. Then he was being taken to the side, and another male voice slid through the air.
This voice was familiar and had her freezing instantly.
“Waiter, can you take this guy out? I believe he’s harassing this bar’s owner.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” the waiter replied before signaling the bouncers at the front, who dragged the protesting, middle-aged man away.
Indigo watched the scene, refusing to look at her side when she felt the leather couch dip. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see blond hair gleaming in the strobe lights and wondered how the hell he found her.
“Should have watched that portal instead of turning your back so easily,” he murmured.
Well, shit. Then it was her fault.
Her good mood plummeted, and she warred with the conflict to make a fast run for it or stay where she was. The first plan was instinct—but it was also stupid because this was her place and there was no escaping from a shifter like him.
And he knew it.
So Indigo settled for staying in place, her back straightening.
“And keep yourself in check,” he murmured again. “Your eyes are about to turn red.”
She took a deep breath and glared at her front. “Stop telling me what to do.”
“I don’t think you have the right to tell me that right now.”
Unable to resist any longer, she finally turned her glare in his direction. But he wasn’t even looking at her. Dean was looking straight ahead, eyes roaming about as if he was checking the place out. He probably was. He was wearing the same boring outfit of black slacks and pastel-colored dress shirt, which didn’t hide those broad shoulders and that built physique at all. Fine, so he was a hot little shit, but that still made him a little shit in her book. As she was thinking this, he suddenly turned his head in her direction, golden eyes pinning her in place.
Lion eyes.
“What?” she blurted out, for lack of anything clever to say.
“These glow drinks…”
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, and the initial thought to lie came. But if he found out she lied…
She swallowed her bile and gave him a sour look. “What do you think?”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you get potions for that?”
“How do you think?” she shot back. “Most pure hags are ugly. That’s all I’m saying, unless you’re too stupid to figure it out.”
That last part came out all wrong, and his lips flattened as he glared back at her. “Mother or father?”
She shrugged. “Mom’s a hag. Dad’s a witch. Never met him. Haven’t seen her in years.”
He frowned as if she said something even worse. Something hardened in his gaze, and she could have sworn the air shifted from tension-filled to cold in an instant. An involuntary shiver almost came out of her, and she had to consciously tamp it down as she studied his expression.
Yes, he disliked her. He always had, and the feeling was mutual. But the mention of the witch didn’t just bring on dislike, but something much more basic that made her realize it was dangerous to be around him now.
It was hate.
The starkness of it made her unable to take her gaze off him, even as coldness met her head-on. She had to process his next words before clarity came.
“Where’s your office?”
Suspicion snuck in. Despite her wariness at the newfound hate, she stood up and led the way, her mind trying to come up with a plan of argument to let him let her get away with this and not report her to his elders.
Once he did, she was done for, because their kind weren’t supposed to even come here without permission—a rule she severely disliked, because she wasn’t even a shifter and shouldn’t be following whatever idiocies they put up with.
She slipped into the office, and so did he, and they both kept the door open. She kept eyeing him warily, watching his eyes roam around critically.
“Do you have contact with your father’s kin?”
She shook her head, not wanting to get into details about her family—or lack thereof. “No. They’re probably bad.”
“And hags aren’t?”
“I just don’t, okay? Why are we in my office?”
Those golden eyes returned to her, and the intensity in them had her quietly gulping. But she lifted her chin and met his gaze calmly, refusing to be intimidated.
“Open up your safe.”
Her eyes widened at what he was trying to say. Then she was shaking her head vigorously.
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.”
His words were calm, almost casual. But she knew he meant every bit of it. She froze, her mind warring with decisions again as she tried to weigh her options.
Did she really want to fight him now, with the knowledge that she was going to lose?
She sighed, the answer clear. Resentment slammed inside her, but she stalked over to her painting on the wall and shoved it aside, dialing the numbers on her safe until it beeped open.
“There’s nothing precious in my safe, so I don’t get this whole exercise. Are you purposely trying to goad me?”
There was no response on his end. Indigo turned to glare at him, prepared to argue.
“I mean, we can talk about this, you know. I’m not a particularly hard person to please, and there has to be a kind soul in that body of yours. You can’t just be an asshole through and through…”
Her words trailed off when she realized he wasn’t even paying attention to her. In fact, he wasn’t looking at her at all. Dean had his eyes trained towards something outside her office. His body was even more rigid than normal, and his face was pale, like…
Like he’d seen a ghost.