“Oh, you… don’t have to buy me a drink,” Arwen added.

  The woman glanced over at Zara and asked, “What can I get for you?”

  “We haven’t ordered yet,” Zara replied.

  “Yes, and I’d like to buy both of you a drink, if I may,” the woman said.

  She stood there, in a sleek pair of black slacks that sort of shimmered and a suit jacket with a pinstripe button-down under it, and Zara thought she saw actual suspenders under the jacket, which she hadn’t seen a woman wear in years outside of a TV show.

  “She drinks wine,” Arwen spoke up.

  “Red or white?” the woman asked.

  “Red,” Zara answered without thinking.

  “Any particular kind?”

  “I’m not picky,” she said.

  “Very well,” the woman replied and turned to go back to the bar.

  “Oh, my God!” Arwen whisper-yelled to her when the woman turned around. “She’s even more gorgeous up close.”

  “Yeah…” Zara uttered, wind taken out of her sails. “Is she your type, though? She’s pretty butch.”

  “I don’t have a type,” Arwen replied.

  “You’ve only ever dated femmes,” Zara noted, looking down at the skirt she was wearing and thinking about the red lipstick she’d applied in the car on the way over here.

  “She’s coming back over,” Arwen said softly, ignoring her comment.

  Zara turned and saw that the stranger was, indeed, walking back over to their booth, having procured a glass of wine faster than Zara had ever seen anyone do in a packed bar.

  “Here you are,” the woman said to her and passed Zara the glass. “I chose an older vintage they have here. I hope that’s all right.”

  Feeling pressured to take a sip then, Zara did and said, “Jesus, that’s delicious.” She took another slow sip, savoring it now before she tipped the glass and inhaled. “This is the best wine I’ve ever had,” she added, staring at the glass in disbelief.

  The woman smiled knowingly at her and asked, “May I join you?”

  “Yes,” Arwen replied quickly.

  The woman sat down next to Arwen, and one arm went over the back of the booth while her other hand remained wrapped around her drink. Zara watched them stare at one another and felt very much like a third wheel. She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t go now that she had a drink bought by this very confident woman who was about to start flirting with the woman Zara loved. She also couldn’t down this wine in one gulp because it really was the best wine she had ever consumed, and right now, she could really use this. She sipped slowly and watched as Arwen’s blush crept up her cheeks.

  “I’m Iro,” the woman said.

  “Hero?” Zara asked, thinking she’d heard wrong.

  “No, Iro. I-R-O.”

  “Iro? That’s an interesting name,” Arwen replied.

  “Yes, it is,” Iro said, smiling at Arwen now.

  “Oh, I’m Arwen.”

  “Arwen? That’s beautiful.”

  “My parents are big fans of The Lord of the Rings,” Arwen explained with an adorable shrug.

  “I love The Lord of the Rings. I actually have a first edition at home,” Iro shared.

  “You do?” Arwen asked.

  “I picked it up at an auction a long time ago,” Iro said.

  “God, my parents would probably kill for that. Obviously, they named me Arwen, so they loved it, but every year until I was, like, nine, they made me dress up as Arwen for Halloween.”

  “Made you? You didn’t want to be Arwen?” Iro asked.

  Zara sipped her wine and swallowed her regret because she could have avoided all of this by telling Arwen how she felt a long time ago. Even if Arwen didn’t return her feelings, Zara probably wouldn’t be sitting here watching her flirt with this woman with a strange name.

  “I wanted to be Legolas. I thought he was cooler.”

  Iro laughed and lifted her glass to her lips, taking a sexy sip. Zara wasn’t even sure how sips could be sexy, but Iro had managed to make a believer out of her.

  “And when I got older, I wanted to be something else entirely; something more fun.”

  “What’s that?” Iro asked.

  “A vampire,” Arwen said with a wide smile. “I wanted the plastic fake fangs and fake blood and everything.”

  Iro didn’t say anything to that, though. She just stared at Arwen, and the way she was looking at her told Zara something. It was something that churned her stomach. Iro might be interested in taking Arwen home, yes. She might want to try to get Arwen into bed. Arwen, never one for one-night stands, would probably decline and suggest a date instead, but there was something else in that stare, and Iro showed a small, almost imperceptible smile. That look suggested she wanted to keep talking to Arwen about silly Halloween costumes for as long as Arwen did, and if they ended up in bed, that would be a bonus. It told Zara that Iro would likely take Arwen up on the date suggestion.

  After years, Zara had just been about to tell Arwen that she wanted to be more than friends. She’d finally worked up the courage and had been about to blurt it out right after they sat down, hoping Arwen wouldn’t dart out of the bar, but this woman had caught Arwen’s eye, and now, they were gazing longingly at one another. Zara wasn’t sure she could take any more of it. She noticed the drink menu, pinned between the napkin rack and the wall, and reached for it, not planning on ordering anything else but needing a distraction.

  “Um… which wine is this? I might want to buy a bottle,” she said to distract the two of them from each other for a moment at least.

  Iro turned to her and said, “It’s not on the menu, but I bought the bottle. I had to for them to open it. You’re welcome to it. I don’t drink wine.”

  “You bought the whole bottle?” she asked.

  Iro nodded and said, “Allow me.” Then, she turned to Arwen and added, “I’ll be right back.”

  Iro stood and walked over to the bar.

  “Oh, my God,” Arwen said again. “What is happening? Is she into me?”

  “I don’t know,” Zara replied, even though she did know.

  “Here you go,” Iro said as she held out a corked bottle of red wine that had ‘Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru 1949’ on it.

  “This is from 1949?” she asked.

  “Yes. They didn’t have anything from the 20s, or I would have chosen that for you,” Iro said. “It’s yours. As I said, I’m not a big wine drinker, but I hope you enjoy it.” She sat back down next to Arwen. “You haven’t touched your drink.”

  “What is it?” Arwen asked.

  “Bourbon. I thought you recognized what I was drinking when I asked if you wanted one.”

  “Oh, I just nodded because you nodded.”

  When Iro smiled at Arwen adoringly, Zara took a long gulp of that wine this time before setting the bottle down on the table next to herself.

  “It’s a very good bourbon. Do you not drink bourbon?”

  “Not really, no. I was going to get a mixed drink, like a Malibu and pineapple or something. I’m not a big drinker.”

  “That’s sugary and sweet; masks the taste of alcohol.”

  “I don’t really like the taste of alcohol.”

  “Try this. I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s smooth.” Iro held up her own glass. “We can try it together.”

  Arwen picked up her glass and sniffed it, making Zara smile. Then, she took a hesitant sip when Iro did, and she promptly coughed.

  “What… do you… mean by… smooth?” she asked as she continued to cough.

  Zara went to get up to get Arwen a glass of water, but Iro was faster. Before Zara could even stand, it seemed, she was back with a glass for her.

  “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m more used to it. I forget how it can be to drink it for the first time.”

  “Is this really the good stuff?” Arwen asked after taking a drink of water.

  “Yes, it is. It’s Blanton’s Silver Edition Bourbon; my favorite kind. If you take another sip, you can probably taste the vanilla and cinnamon, or maybe you’ll get a little citrus, like mandarin.”

  “I don’t think I can take another drink of that. I’m sorry. Is it expensive?”

  “I can drink it,” Iro replied before she finished the last sip in her own glass and pulled Arwen’s over to her. “What can I get you instead?”

  “I’m okay. I can just drink this water,” Arwen answered.

  “Nonsense. Do you want that sugar drink you were going to get?”

  Iro waved her hand in the air, and the bartender nodded immediately.

  “Not if you’re going to make fun of me for it.”

  “I won’t,” Iro said as the bartender approached. “Can we get a Malibu with pineapple juice in it?”

  Arwen laughed and said, “It’s just Malibu and pineapple.”

  “Right. Sorry,” Iro said.

  The bartender walked off with his marching orders, and Zara pulled up the browser app on her phone to first search for the bourbon while she still remembered the name of it. When she noticed that it was listed as one of the most expensive bourbons in the world, selling for over five thousand dollars a bottle, her eyes went wide, thinking she’d typed the wrong name. Deciding to check on her wine next, she typed the name on the label in front of her, and her eyes went even wider.

  “Holy crap!” she exclaimed.

  “What?” Arwen asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, tucking her phone away.

  The reason this wine was the best she had ever had was that it cost nearly six thousand dollars a bottle.

  “I’m sorry; I’ve been very rude. I didn’t get your name,” Iro said.

  “Zara,” she said quickly. “Arwen’s best friend.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. How long have you two been friends?”

  “About ten years,” Arwen replied this time. “We met through work.”

  “And what is it that you do?” Iro asked before taking a drink.

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “And I’m just a paralegal,” Zara said.

  Iro looked at her inquisitively and asked, “Why do you say just?”

  “Because I’m not a lawyer, and most people think less of paralegals. They think we couldn’t get through law school or something.”

  “I don’t,” Iro said. “I assume paralegals chose their professions in the same ways attorneys do.”

  “Yes. I liked the law, but becoming a paralegal was faster and cheaper.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” Iro replied.

  Zara hated this woman. No, she didn’t. She liked her, actually. Iro had spent over ten thousand dollars on drinks for them and had been kind to her just now. Zara hated that Iro’s arm had shifted a little on the back of the booth and was getting dangerously close to Arwen’s shoulders, though.

  “I should go,” she said quickly.

  “What?” Arwen asked right when the bartender arrived and set down her drink before promptly returning to his place behind the bar. “My drink just got here,” she added. “And you told me you wanted to talk to me about something.”

  “I’ve interrupted,” Iro said. “My apologies. I shouldn’t have–”

  “It’s fine,” Zara said. “I get tired when I drink red wine, even the really good stuff, apparently. I should get home and get some sleep, and we can talk tomorrow or something. It’s not urgent.”

  She’d already waited three years. She could wait another day. Or, maybe she’d have to wait until another of Arwen’s relationships fizzled out for her chance. She just hoped she had enough time.

  “Are you sure?” Arwen asked.

  “Yeah. We drove separately, and I’m okay to drive home. The good stuff made me a little sleepy but not drunk, so that’s good. I’m only five minutes away. Are you okay?” she asked and swallowed, wanting Arwen to tell her that she would go with her, leave this place, and never speak of this Iro woman again.

  “I’m okay,” Arwen replied instead.

  Iro took another drink of her bourbon and said nothing. Arwen then picked up her new drink and took a sip, too.

  “Text me later so I know you’re okay?” Zara requested, grabbing her purse off the booth next to her.

  “Sure,” Arwen replied. “Drive safe, please.”

  “Put that in the trunk,” Iro suggested.

  “Sorry?”

  “The wine; it’s open. You have to put it in the trunk, or you’ll get in trouble if you get pulled over.”

  “Are you a lawyer, too?” Arwen asked.

  Iro shook her head and said, “No, but I try to know the laws wherever I live to be safe.”

  Zara picked up the bottle she’d nearly left behind and said, “Thank you. I’ll put it in the trunk.”

  “Text me, Zara, so that I know you got home okay.”

  “I will. Good night,” she said.

  “Night,” Arwen replied.

  “Good night, Zara,” Iro added with a nod.

  Then, Zara left the bar and the woman she loved with another woman, who could easily afford to spend over eleven thousand dollars on alcohol in one night on two women she didn’t even know.

  CHAPTER 5

  Iro

  When she had watched the woman she now knew as Arwen walk into the bar, Iro had been instantly transfixed, and she hadn’t been instantly transfixed on anyone in over three hundred years. It was hard to remember much about her life as a human before being turned, but one part of her life would never fully leave her mind, of course. She had been in love, yes, but she had not been instantly transfixed by the woman who had later become the reason she’d turned into a vampire. She hadn’t been transfixed by Cassia, either. Enamored by? Maybe. Confused by? Absolutely. But not so transfixed that she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the woman.

  When Arwen had entered the bar with her long blonde hair framing her face and long neck, though, Iro had stared at her unabashedly. She hadn’t cared if the entire world had noticed that she was staring at a stranger. When Arwen’s eyes had met her own, she’d noticed their hazel shade. At first, Iro had thought them golden. Then, when the light had hit them differently, they’d appeared green, and lastly, brown, before Arwen had finally connected her gaze with hers, and Iro had known: they were hazel, and they were beautiful. She’d read many poets over the years describe eyes with their rich words, and she’d never met someone with eyes that felt like those descriptions applied. Arwen’s, on the other hand, made her feel as if every beautiful description did. It made Iro think of the poem by Sara Teasdale that she had read for the first time decades ago now.

  Your eyes drink of me,

  Love makes them shine,

  Your eyes that lean

  So close to mine.

  We have long been lovers,

  We know the range

  Of each other's moods

  And how they change;

  But when we look

  At each other so

  Then we feel

  How little we know;

  The spirit eludes us,

  Timid and free –

  Can I ever know you

  Or you know me?

  She’d been sitting at the bar, staring at Arwen, thinking about that poem and wondering why it had sprung to mind when she didn’t even know this woman, only of her eyes and how remarkable it felt to have them connected to her own. Iro hadn’t been foolish. She’d understood that there had to be a reason she’d been so drawn to her. She had breathed in the room, and its scent had revealed to her a combination of sweet liqueurs and juices, body odor and sweat, urine from the bathroom several feet away, and yes, blood.

  Vampires had a heightened sense of smell, but it wasn’t as strong as what she’d seen portrayed in the recent versions of the species humans usually believed to be fictional. She could, however, smell blood. It was typically because someone had a cut on their skin, but if someone was close enough, Iro could smell their very blood pumping through their veins. Not feeding on humans anymore, this was now an unpleasant experience for her every time, since she had spent well over a decade weaning herself off it so that she wouldn’t be tempted to take a woman home and feed off her.

  Iro hadn’t ever been about the kill. She hadn’t even been about the feed. She needed blood to survive, but it didn’t have to be human blood. Animal blood was the only requirement, and humans were animals, but so were pigs, cows, and many others. Vampire blood helped other vampires not to starve, but it didn’t contain what they needed to survive for long, so that wasn’t an option for every meal.

  When Iro had breathed in the room again, she’d smelled her, knowing exactly where that intoxicating, sweet scent had come from, and it was the woman she could now call Arwen. Most women these days wore perfume or otherwise strong-scented lotions and used various body washes with intense fragrances, as if to cover their very essence, but Arwen wore nothing. Even her shampoo or conditioner had no scent to it. Iro had breathed her in again after sitting down at her table and had been surprised because very few modern products had no scent. She’d been able to smell the soap base, but that had been it, and it had been very refreshing. It had also made her want to sink her teeth into flesh to draw the red, hot liquid unencumbered by the other scents that surrounded people today. She had licked her lips as she’d stared at Arwen’s neck, hearing the woman’s pulse and wanting to both taste her and never hurt her at the same time.

  Never wanting to hurt the woman she’d just met meant that there was something else at play here; it wasn’t just the smell of her blood that had attracted Iro to her. Those eyes, that sweet smile, and the nervous laugh Arwen was giving her right now for something Iro had said that hadn’t even been particularly funny meant that this was something else entirely.

  “How was your drink?” Iro asked.

  “Good,” Arwen replied as she set down the now-empty glass.

  “Would you like another one?” Iro asked.

  They had remained seated next to one another in the booth, with Iro not wanting to move to the other side when Zara had left because she’d craved this closeness with Arwen in a way she hadn’t craved anything in years.

  “No, one is my limit. I’m a bit of a lightweight. In fact, I drove here, but I don’t think I can drive home.”