This is an excerpt from “The Strix”. In
this scene Arcona has escaped a witch’s shop and fallen straight into the hands
of handsome stranger, who happens to be waiting for her in a dark alley the
moment she steps outside. The man she meets owns an odd bar named
Slayers that’s peopled with more strange men…
“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you,” he
called out to her.
She turned. “Why?”
“It’s a dead end.” A sly smile crossed his
face. “Unless you’re carrying a grappling hook and a climbing rope in your
purse, you’ll never get over the eight-foot brick wall waiting for you around
the corner.”
He lifted his hand into the air and slowly
motioned for her to approach. “Come here.” His tone softened. “A beautiful
woman really shouldn’t be walking alone at night; it’s not safe. You can take a
shortcut through my bar and walk straight onto a lit street.”
She relaxed her tensed shoulders. There
was something dangerously intriguing about this Nordic beauty that drew her
toward him. “You own Slayers?”
“Yes.” A proud smile warmed his sharply
chiseled features. “You’ve heard of Slayers? My name’s Varn.” He thrust his
palm forward in greeting.
“Hello, Varn.” She was too nervous to
grasp his hand.
“Come inside and stay for a drink if you like.”
“I thought
Slayers was some sort of private gentlemen’s club?”
Varn’s brows arched. He laughed softly as
if he were enjoying a private joke. “Slayers is a gentlemen’s club by nature,
not by choice. We’d welcome the privilege of entertaining an attractive female
patron.” His eyes glittered in the darkness, almost as if they were casting
their own light. “By the way, I’m not sure it’s accurate to describe us as
gentlemen.”
He looked intense but seemed
good-tempered. She silently admitted it was a heady thrill to have such a striking,
semidangerous-looking man flirting with her. She loved the whole underworld
attraction of ultratough guys but had never found one she could actually trust
and relate to; most were just trouble, plain and simple.
A cool breeze funneled through the alleyway
and blew Varn’s long hair away from his steep cheekbones. This guy sure looked
like a big, burly bushel of trouble. His knuckles were raw with scars like he
got in a fistfight every Saturday night, and won. Her imagination was really
running away with her, but what the hell? He was just a bar owner in a touristy
town, not a world-class mercenary, for God’s sake, though he certainly
looked like one. The touch of danger called like a Siren’s song to her
attention-starved libido.
“If you don’t mind, I think I will dart
through.” God help, she was already thinking of staying for a drink and maybe
more. Why rush back to an empty hotel room when a little fun might be had? She
tried to be stealthy as she swept her gaze over Varn’s thick forearms. His
sleeves were rolled up, and he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the chill.
In her mind she cataloged each exciting
detail, loving everything she saw. Solid, tough, and steely described Varn
perfectly. How much would Jael love this guy’s icy good looks? A lot. She owed
it to Jael to at least check this guy out.
Varn reached toward her and offered his
hand a second time. “Be careful stepping over the crates. There are a couple of
broken bottles. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
She took hold of his hand. His grip was
iron, and his hands were heavily calloused.
Varn grabbed her around the waist and
lifted her to his shoulders with an easy swoop.
She gasped in surprise as Varn
effortlessly elevated her high above the crates and set her down gently at the
threshold of Slayers’ back door.
He opened the door for her with a
flourish. “After you.”
She breathlessly planted her boots on the
ground. Men didn’t just pick her up and twirl her through the air every day,
especially gorgeous ones in black silk shirts. This was a special thrill. What
else could this guy do to make her heart race faster?
She felt a little shaky as she entered
Slayers and immediately noted the building was chilly and dimly lit by
old-fashioned kerosene lanterns. The scent of fresh-cut cedar hung in the air.
Her first impression was Slayers felt like a men’s outdoor camping trip.
They walked down a narrow service hallway
lined with wooden casks, dark cubicles, and storage closets, and past a small,
candlelit room strewn with earthy red cushions and a curved lounge, before
entering the main part of the bar.
Her gaze narrowed as she entered the room.
The interior of Slayers was an odd, ultramacho ensemble of an old West saloon
complete with a naked lady etched into an antique Parisian-style mirror hanging
above the bar, a Viking longhouse with exposed wooden beams and dragons carved
into the individual booths, and a military barrack embellished with Roman
shields, medieval swords, weapons, and artillery shells of every description.
“Wow.” Every bizarre detail dazzled her.
She couldn’t settle for long on a single thing. Slayers’ decor seemed to
chronicle every great moment in warfare and mayhem. “Who’s your decorator?”
She began to worry she was barking up the
wrong tree. When Varn had said gentlemen’s club, had he meant gay? This place
definitely looked like it was a testosterone-drenched, chest-thumping,
dick-swinging, war-craft-loving, all-male celebration, no-pink-panty zone.
A few of Slayers’ patrons sat in dark
booths quietly playing cards and drinking from an eclectic selection of
pewter-topped beer steins or wooden tankards. The rough- faced men casually
looked up at her before returning their full attention to the card game.
There seemed to be a lot of combat boots
and leather worn in this place along with steel rivets and fur. The whole place
looked a little too Road Warrior, even for her
tastes.
Varn leaned close to her ear. “Would you
like a Humpen?”
His deep voice sent thrilling shivers up
her spine.
“Would I like what?” she asked in
alarm.
Varn pointed toward a row of polished
stoneware beer mugs lined up on the bar. He walked toward the bar, picked up a
chunky mug, and began to draw a trickle of rich black beer from a keg. “A
Humpen is a half-liter beer stein.”
His gaze dropped toward the dark, liquid
filling the mug. “This is Slayers’ signature brew. It’s an ancient recipe and
the only brew we drink. You can’t get it anywhere else. I want you to try it
and tell me what you think.”
He handed Arcona the weighty mug with a
tall head sloshing over the rim.
She accepted the drippy mug and fought the
impulse to wipe her wet fingers on her pant legs. “Thank you.” She hoisted the
mug in a toast. “To Slayers.” She paused before taking the first sip. “Are you
going to drink?”
A dreamy, sexy expression briefly crossed
Varn’s face. “I’ll drink later.”
****
I hope you enjoyed it! Have a wonderful. This week I'm editing book two "Claimed By Dragons" and that's a fun story too.
XXOO Kat
“The Strix” Katalina Leon & Amber Skyze
Book one in “The Bag Of Tricks” book series.
Loose Id Publishing
"The
Strix" Katalina Leon and Amber Skyze Loose Id Publishing
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