Fever Fae - Meg Xuemei X Page 0,28

I’d thought. Everything about him emitted dark danger—even his obsidian eyebrows, and sapphire eyes. Only this time, I didn’t see his wings. But I swore I’d seen them when I was on the club floor.

Strangely, I wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of him. His power that charged the air without trying only excited me. It felt similar to the other two Fae assholes, like they were different fabric produced from the same machine.

Then I almost smacked my forehead.

Of course they felt similar. Rydstrom was Fae, too.

As my eyes roved over from his perfect, curvy mouth to his dark gray dress shirt stretched over his broad muscled chest, he reviewed my every detail, too, drinking me in. Somehow, his perusal made me want to purr and blush at once.

When his gaze snagged on the cut in my pant leg, I crossed my arms. “I was attacked in your club.”

“They’ll be dealt with,” he said simply.

I didn’t push the issue. Under his intense gaze I suddenly felt hot, like the room temperature had jumped several degrees.

“Is the air conditioner on?” I asked, fanning my face.

“The temperature is kept under sixty-four degrees here.”

I darted my eyes toward the wall near the door, seeking a thermometer that wasn’t there.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “It feels like ninety-nine degrees in here.”

“Maybe you should cool yourself off,” he offered, a faint, amused smile ghosting the corner of his mouth for a fleeting second.

I sauntered toward one of the two empty chairs before his desk, still fanning my face. As I approached him, his nostrils flared, just like Rowan and Baron had. This happened every time I got in a fight. Maybe there was something off in the droplets of my sweat? If this dude told me I smelled, I’d whip out Carolina Reaper again.

I slid into one of the plush chairs and smiled. I needed to be polite so he would hire me. “It seems some people here are scared of you, like you’re the big bad wolf,” I said.

“They’re all afraid of me,” he said. “Beings tremble in my presence.”

I threw my head back and laughed. Rydstrom only narrowed his eyes, and I dropped my smile.

“That’s not a joke?” I asked.

“I do not joke.”

For a second, the man morphed into a nightmarish winged creature, like a bigger, deadlier version of the gargoyle statue guarding the entrance of the club.

A blink later, the image was gone and Rydstrom appeared as a stunning Fae man again. Either my imagination was running wild, or this Sight thing was malfunctioning.

“I see,” I said. The guy had no sense of humor, but it wouldn’t do me any good to say so. “Let’s get down to business. I came here for a bartending job.”

I pulled out a piece of paper from the back pocket of my pants, unfolded it, and laid it on the desk in front of the mob Fae boss.

He glanced at the faked resume with a frown, but I had it all covered if he checked for references. However, there was no excuse for the wrinkles on the paper, even though it was probably due to the brawl in the club. I didn’t say anything to bring his attention to it.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I said easily. “I’m old enough to legally pour poison.”

“Dance for me.”

I sat a bit straighter on the chair. “Ex—Excuse me?”

“A striptease, to be precise.”

I blinked at him.

“I want to see how good you are at the job,” he said in a flat tone, yet his deep blue eyes sparkled.

I forced a smile. “I think there’s a misunderstanding here. I want to tend the bar, not dance on some laps. You have plenty of girls for that, as you can see for yourself.” I twisted my torso in the chair and gestured to the floor downstairs.

From here, we both could see girls writhing on patrons’ laps in private booths, while the pro stripers danced on the stages on one end of the club. They got some male eye candy as well.

“But you have only one bartender pouring drinks for jerks,” I added. “That’s where I come in. I’ll handle difficult patrons for you.”

“Indira can handle them just well,” he said. “I do not require you to dance for anyone,” he added, his voice silky and seductive, yet with a hard core like midnight steel. Every timbre beat in my bloodstream. “If you want to tend bar, you’ll strip dance for me. There’s no misunderstanding here.”

“That’s obnoxious!”

His gaze flitted over my left shoulder. “There’s the