Tamed

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Lily Sotheby settled back into the worn leather of the booth, her fingers around the stem of a wineglass. “This cabernet is, um . . .”

“Piss.” Hilde Freebird pulled the label off her longneck beer as Garth Brooks crooned from the jukebox. “You don’t order wine at a honkey-tonk, Prophet.”

“Shhh,” said Janie Kayrs, the other accomplice, eyeing the peanut shells lining the tavern’s floor. “Don’t call her that.”

“Oh yeah. My bad.” Hilde pushed her glasses farther up her nose and nodded at a group of men playing pool. Fit and hard, several wore handmade silk suits. They seemed out of place in the dive bar as well. “Have you chosen?”

This was such an incredibly bad idea. “No.” Lily tracked the distance from the booth to the door. “If the king discovers we’re at a bar, he’s going to kill me.” What in the heck was she thinking, bringing the vampire king’s niece to a public bar? Half of the immortal species wanted to kidnap Janie; the other half wanted her dead.

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