Bite Me If You Dare

VALENTINA
Most people measured their days in cups of coffee. Today, I was measuring mine in marriage proposals. Case in point: it wasn’t even noon yet, and I’d already been proposed to twice. Neither of which, for the record, had been particularly creative or inspiring. I liked to think my standards were fairly reasonable. Was it too much to ask for a ring? A bent knee? Maybe even a shred of romantic effort? 

The first had come from a basilisk shifter who’d taken one look at me, flashed the emerald scales along his throat like a horny, reptilian peacock, and informed me our children would be, in his words, gorgeous.

I hadn’t even handed him a menu yet.

The second had come from a vampire who’d spent twenty solid minutes staring hungrily at my jugular, and another ten locked onto my breasts, before solemnly declaring he was deeply invested in my, er, personality. He then capped off his sweeping declaration of love by calling me Valerie.

My name was Valentina.

We’d known each other for fifty years.

Be still my heart.

It was enough to make a succubus wonder if romance was fundamentally dead in Eternity Falls, or if I was just exceptionally unlucky. 

Sadly, I was leaning toward the latter, considering our little town currently had two shiny new couples for everyone to obsess over. One of which included a freaking St. Germain, no less. No one would have ever bet on that one. The St. Germains were notoriously allergic to basic manners and friendliness. The thought of Lucien doing anything romantic boggled the mind. 

The other couple, Thorne Wolfe and Calder Rook… well, half the town had been waiting years for that powder keg to finally ignite, and needless to say, the explosion hadn’t disappointed. The local gossip mill was still churning out all the titillating tidbits about those two. 

But while those four were off enjoying their epic happily-ever-afters, the rest of us were still deep in the trenches. Stuck in the same boring jobs. Staring at the same boring faces. And, apparently, being proposed to by the same incredibly boring monsters.

See?

Unlucky.

Someone cleared their throat directly in front of me, yanking me straight out of my internal pity party. 

I looked up and groaned, dismayed to find the aforementioned vampire now leaning against my hostess stand, trying his absolute damndest to look casually suave. Apparently, he’d abandoned his booth for round two of trying to win my heart.

Or, judging by where his gaze had landed, something a bit lower, like my modestly sized 34B cup. “Valerie?”

Fifty. Solid. Years.

I plastered on a smile and bit out through gritted teeth. “It’s Valentina.”

His full-wattage smile faltered. “Right. That’s what I said.”

No, it absolutely wasn’t. 

“What can I do for you now, Alfred?” I asked. And yes, his name truly was Alfred. 

He jiggled an empty glass in my face, wafting the spicy scent of a Bloody Ginger Ale directly into my nostrils. “I’d like another, if that’s alright.”

“That’s not my job, Alfred,” I stated clearly. “I’m the hostess. But I can find Lily for you and tell her you need a refill.”

“Aww, couldn’t you just fetch it for me, darling? I prefer your company the most, after all.”

I ground my teeth together hard enough to make them squeak, but somehow managed to keep my forced smile intact. I’d begged my manager to remove me from the hostess position. Asked him to give me another job, anything less public. But my complaints had fallen on deaf werebadger ears. To him, keeping a succubus front and center was just good business. He claimed the customers enjoyed my “aura.”

Translation: he liked that I was a walking, talking aphrodisiac who turned everyone attracted to women within a five-mile radius of Hex Mex into a brainless oaf. They tended to hang around longer, buy more food, and tip more generously. All to get into my good graces.

It came with the territory. Succubi fed on desire, and thankfully, the process required absolutely no effort on my part. Lust radiated from people like heat, and my body absorbed the energy automatically whenever I was close enough to feel it. I didn’t have to touch anyone, seduce them, or consciously draw anything out of them. They wanted, and I fed.

In theory, it was a pretty convenient arrangement.

In reality, not all desire was created equal.

The mindless lust I dealt with every day kept me alive, but that was about all it did. It had substance without satisfaction, like eating something completely devoid of flavor. My body took what it needed, but the hunger never truly went away. Neither did the exhaustion and hollowness that came without proper nutrition. Which was how I could spend eight hours surrounded by horny supernatural creatures yet still be practically starving to death in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

Was it so much to ask for a man to look at me and see something other than an express ticket to pound town? Was a little old-fashioned courtship and dating too much to ask? I didn’t want people mentally bending me over the hostess stand before their complimentary chips even arrived. I wanted to be wooed. I wanted heat and passion. I wanted slow-burn love. What I didn’t want was a quick roll in the hay with someone I absolutely would not call the next day.

I just wanted someone who gave an actual damn about my day, rather than wondering what my clothes would look like crumpled on their bedroom floor.

I know. Ridiculous, right?

A succubus yearning for a soulmate. Sounded like a cheesy romantic comedy premise. I was supposed to revel in the mindless worship and almost aggressive sexual energy.

Instead, I was simply tired. Or maybe I was broken. 

When I didn’t immediately respond, Alfred’s mouth curled into a self-satisfied grin, the tips of his fangs peeking out like he’d just won a prize. He likely thought I was actually mulling over his request. It probably hadn’t registered in his one-track mind that I was actually considering how to boot him out of the restaurant without ruining my most recent manicure.

“I’m touched,” I finally said, my fake hostess smile practically cemented to my face. “But Lily’s your server, and I’d hate to deprive her of the pleasure. Let me go hunt her down for you.”

Before he could string together a response—or heaven forbid, another clumsy declaration of undying love—I executed a flawless pivot and retreated toward the kitchen. 

I made it halfway across the dining room before my morbid curiosity won out.

Against my better judgment, I glanced over my shoulder, only to find Alfred’s gaze locked onto my ass with the intensity of a sniper. Because of course it was. The lust rolling off him hit me almost immediately, and I instinctively absorbed it. It spread beneath my skin with a slight flicker of warmth, but it petered out before it could truly warm me, ending as quickly as it began.

So disappointing.

But not quite as disappointing as the Fanged Wonder himself. He didn’t even have the basic decency to feign embarrassment when I caught him. No guilty jerk. No sudden fascination with the ceiling tiles. He just stood there, empty glass dangling loosely from his fingers, while openly admiring the view like I was nothing more than part of the décor.

I snapped my head forward before I did something terribly unprofessional, like march back over, aggressively bend him over the hostess stand, and show him exactly how thrilling it felt to be treated like a piece of meat. The only thing stopping me was the fear that he’d enjoy that. 

“Lily,” I called out, pushing through the swinging kitchen doors into the heavy scent of sizzling peppers and cumin.

A head of bouncy blonde curls popped up from behind the stainless-steel prep counter. Lily straightened, her nose twitching once before she looked at me. “Yeah?”

“Table twelve needs another Bloody Ginger Ale.”

She peeked past me, catching a glimpse of the dining room through the door’s circular window. “Alfred?”

“The one and only,” I said, grimacing.

Her mouth twitched in sympathy.

“Oh, and if he asks where I am, please tell him a sinkhole opened beneath the restaurant and tragically swallowed me whole.” 

She snorted and grabbed a fresh glass. “Got it.”

Out of the entire Hex Mex waitstaff, Lily understood my daily plight best. Thankfully, she was about as interested in sex as I was in Alfred’s marriage proposal, which meant my aura tended not to affect her. It not only made working with her a breeze but also gave me a break whenever I needed it most.

“Bless you,” I murmured.

I loitered in the kitchen just long enough to give Lily time to deliver the fresh drink and distract Alfred long enough for me to return unnoticed to the hostess stand. It might have been a Tuesday with low traffic, but it was my job to stand there, smile, and seat the people. 

Thrilling stuff.

A few minutes after I reclaimed my post, Lily strolled up and slapped her serving tray onto the wood. Alfred’s empty glass rattled like a sad little maraca on top.

“You called it,” she said, fighting a smirk. “He absolutely asked where you ran off to.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That a mysterious sinkhole tragically swallowed you whole, then immediately vanished afterward. I might have mentioned calling the local sheriff’s office to lodge a missing person’s report.”

I chuckled. “Maybe fate will hear us and actually grant me a sinkhole. Preferably one that drops me into another dimension completely devoid of men.”

Lily laughed and leaned a hip against the hostess stand, careful to stay out of the way in case any new patrons arrived. Not that we were in danger of a sudden lunch rush. I glanced out the glass front doors at Main Street, only to find the street quieter than normal, likely due to the unseasonably cold chill. Yes, it was October, but it looked like our brr months had grown tired of waiting and kicked down the door with both feet. 

“So, what are you wearing on Friday?” Lily asked, casually pivoting the conversation.

I frowned. “Clothes, presumably.” Or at least, I sincerely hoped so.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about the Halloween party.”

Ah. That. I braced myself for the fallout. “I, uh… actually haven’t decided if I’m going yet.”

Her jaw dropped open. Geez, you’d think I’d just announced my grand plan to kick a golden retriever into the sun. 

“What? You have to go!” 

“I really, really don’t,” I countered.

“Yes, you do!” 

A flawless, bulletproof argument. Truly. 

“I don’t, actually,” I said. “That’s the breathtaking beauty of free will. I can choose to lock my doors, pour an obscenely expensive drink, immediately remove my bra, and watch garbage television in peace. Zero forced small talk. Zero pretending I’m absolutely delighted by all the people ogling me.”

Her nose twitched again a moment before she nodded. “Right. I suppose the party has a completely different vibe for you. I just couldn’t imagine skipping it. It’s so much fun!”

For her and everyone else, sure. The Eternity Falls Halloween bash was the social event of the year. Everyone turned up dressed in their best. There wasn’t much novelty in throwing on plastic fangs and fake tails when most of the attendees were already the real thing. So, somewhere along the way, the town had embraced a decidedly more romantic interpretation of the holiday.

Masquerade masks. Elaborate ballgowns. Fairy-tale lovers and legendary heroes. Anything beautiful, dramatic, or requiring a corset seemed to be the gold standard for this shindig. 

Last year, I’d counted three Cleopatras, two Oberons, and a very drunk Mr. Darcy who’d spent most of the evening telling me how ardently he loved and admired me. 

It’d made for a very long night.

“I thought you loved the party,” Lily continued.

“I used to.”

“What changed?” she asked.

I didn’t say a word. I just slid my gaze toward table twelve, where Alfred sat slurping his ginger ale. He continued staring at my cleavage like it held nuclear launch codes. When he realized I was looking, he raised his glass in a silent toast.

I just sighed. “The prosecution rests.” 

“Ugh. Point taken,” Lily murmured. She shook her head, the blonde curls brushing against her shoulders. “Last week, Christine and I grabbed drinks at Love Bites, and these two shifter bros would not leave us alone. When I finally told them I was ace, they hit me with the classic ‘you just haven’t experienced the right dick yet.’ So Christine promptly punched one of them in the throat.”

She bumped her shoulder against mine. “I know a fraction of what you go through. But you can’t let overgrown gnats like Alfred ruin your life. Come with us. Christine and I will run interference, and the three of us will have a blast.” 

I offered a noncommittal, tightly lipped smile. I genuinely appreciated her solidarity, but throat-punching a shifter wasn’t going to fix my biology. I was a succubus. I practically sweated pheromones. I could show up to the party wearing a crusty burlap sack and a pair of Crocs, and every sexual creature in the room would still fawn over me.

“There’ll be dancing,” Lily said, trying a new angle.

“I can dance at home,” I told her.

“But there’ll be music.”

“Also something I have at home.”

“Okay, there’ll be booze,” she said, winking.

“I’m a grown-ass woman with unrestricted access to alcohol.”

She glared at me, planting her hands on her hips. “You are incredibly difficult, you know that?” Then, a terrifying spark of inspiration lit up her eyes. “Oh! I know you love dressing up. You could go as Aphrodite!”

I stared at her. A long, flat, unblinking stare.

“What?” she asked, entirely too innocent.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You’d look devastating in a toga.”

“And that is precisely the problem.” I gestured wildly up and down my Hex Mex uniform. “Lily, look at me. Do I strike you as a woman who needs to spend her one night off masquerading as the literal goddess of sex?”

“Goddess of love,” Lily corrected, wagging a finger at me. “And maybe that’s exactly what the doctor ordered. Dress for the job you want, right? Put on the toga, channel some good vibes, and maybe you’ll finally bump into the love of your life.”

I let out a cynical bark of laughter. “I’ve been alive for more than a century,” I said. “If the ‘love of my life’ was actually out there, I’m sure I would have met him by now.”

Before Lily could launch into a sparkly defense of fate, divine timing, or the metaphysical benefits of impersonating a Greek goddess for an evening, the brass bell above the front doors let out a merry chime.

Phew. Saved by the bell.

Decades of Pavlovian customer-service conditioning had my spine snapping straight, my shoulders squaring, and my mandatory hostess smile sliding into place before I even registered the chime of the door.

That expression lasted exactly half a second before something infinitely warmer and entirely unprofessional swooped low in my stomach when Alistair Drake stepped inside.

Almost instantly, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Of all the vampires, werewolves, shifters, witches, and specters haunting Eternity Falls, he was the only one I’d ever developed genuine feelings for.

Maybe it was the uniform. As Captain of the Sentinel Watch—which was basically just a fancy way of saying sheriff—Alistair was essentially a Wyatt Earp-meets-Dracula fever dream. He had the brooding, hypnotic stare, the devastating Cupid’s bow mouth, and an unfair amount of broad-shouldered authority.

Or maybe, and I was just spitballing here, it was because he seemed completely immune to my charms. He wasn’t the only one in town able to withstand my aura, but he was the only one I actually regretted that about.

Even now, rather than staring at me, he was surveying the dining room, taking everyone in before his gaze finally landed on me. And even then, nothing. No flicker of desire, no rush of heat beneath my skin, no rolling wave of mindless lust crashing over me to feed off. He didn’t stare at my chest or mentally start removing my clothes, either. I kept waiting for the day when Alistair Drake looked at me and felt even a fraction of what I felt for him.

But I’d been waiting a long time. And I was starting to think that day might never come. 

I had no idea why Alistair was so resistant to my charms. Age, discipline, sheer stubbornness—take your pick. But here he was, a figurative stone wall.

And why did I find that so insulting? I'd just spent ten minutes complaining to Lily about people constantly ogling me.

The only thing I knew for sure was it would completely break my heart if Alistair ever looked at me the way Alfred did. I could tolerate being objectified by random reptiles and sleazy vampires who couldn’t even remember my name. But I actually liked Alistair.

More than liked him, if I was being brutally honest with my inner monologue. 

So, no. I didn’t want his eyes to glaze over with lust. I wanted them to burn with actual desire. Alas, based on the cool, collected detachment currently resting on his handsome face, that dream was safely on life support.

“Captain Drake,” Lily chirped brightly from beside me. “Please tell me you’re here to arrest Valentina.”

Alistair’s gaze shifted to her. “Should I be?”

The question rolled out in that low, lazy drawl of his, the one that somehow made three ordinary words sound like they belonged beneath the brim of a Stetson. Honestly, the man had no business sounding that good while discussing my theoretical incarceration.

I had no idea where exactly Alistair had come from before settling in Eternity Falls. He’d never volunteered the information, and I’d never been nosy enough to ask. But in all the decades he’d lived here, he’d never lost that accent—or the old-fashioned turns of phrase that came along with it.

Then again, vampires rarely reinvented themselves. They tended to cling stubbornly to their roots. Wherever Alistair had come from, he’d clearly brought a little of the Wild West with him.

“Depends,” Lily said. “How illegal is it to bail on the Halloween party?”

His attention returned to me, one dark brow lifting. “Can’t say that’s against any law I know of.”

I shot Lily a victorious grin. 

Alistair stopped on the opposite side of the hostess stand, resting one hand casually against the edge of the polished wood. His fingers were long, his knuckles faintly scarred. Because my brain had apparently decided professionalism was fully optional today, my gaze locked onto those hands, instantly wondering what they would feel like gripping my… ahem. Waist.

Wonderful.

Alfred stared at my ass, and I wanted to commit a felony. But when Alistair came within six feet of me, suddenly I became the slavering fool. 

Make it make sense.

“Should I ask?” Alistair drawled, his voice a rich rumble.

“No,” I replied.

“Yes,” Lily said at the same time. 

The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely a millimeter. But I caught it because I caught absolutely everything this man did.

“Came to place a to-go order,” he said, mercifully steering us toward a new subject. “Half the precinct’s stuck at the station this afternoon, and apparently not one of ‘em had the good sense to bring lunch.”

“An organizational failure at the mighty Sentinel Watch?” I pressed one hand dramatically to my chest. “Alistair, I’m shocked.”

“Reckon I’ll survive the scandal.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure you will. People do talk, you know.”

“In this town?” His tone stayed perfectly dry. “Never.”

A laugh punched out of me before I could stop it. Damn him.

He picked up a menu and quickly skimmed it over. “Three carnitas platters, two chicken burritos, one order of steak fajitas, and whatever you’ve got that’s hot enough to convince a mountain troll he can still feel physical pain.”

Lily snorted. “That would be the Inferno Enchiladas. But Hex Mex legally waives all responsibility for whatever happens to his internal organs afterward.”

“I’ll have him sign a waiver.”

“And for you?” Lily asked.

Please say me.

The completely unhinged thought hijacked my brain, and I had to duck my head to hide my instantly flaming cheeks. Good god. I was a century-old succubus, and I was mentally throwing myself at the local sheriff like a hormonal teenager.

“Just coffee,” he said. 

“How many shots of blood?” Lily asked.

“One’ll do. Don’t need to get too jittery. Gonna be a long day.”

Lily scribbled the last of Alistair’s order onto her pad, tore off the sheet, and tucked her pen behind one ear. “I’ll go put your order in. Give me a few minutes.”

“Much obliged,” Alistair said.

She disappeared through the kitchen doors, leaving me alone with the man of my literal dreams who clearly felt nothing for me.

Oh, hell.