The Alpha Twins Moon Jewel

The first thing people noticed about supernaturals was usually their eyes.

Humans pretended not to stare, but everyone does.

A vampire walked into a room, and suddenly everyone remembered how to sit up straight. A werewolf entered, and conversations became a little bit quieter. Not because they had to. Not because the law said humans should fear them.

Because power has a way of making people always pay attention.

I had spent three and a half years working at The Ivory Plate, which was a fancy enough place to attract wealthy customers and just affordable enough for ordinary people to pretend they belonged there.

Which meant I had served my fair share of humans, vampires, and werewolves.

I knew the difference.

Vampires had red eyes. Not the kind of red you saw in generic horror movies. More like a deep, unnatural crimson that made you remember they weren't human.

Werewolves had silver eyes. A beautiful, bright, impossible silver.

I had learned not to stare.

They were customers, not creatures from a bedtime story.

"Table twelve needs their drinks," my coworker Maya said, dropping a tray beside me.

My gaze lowered to the stack of bills tucked under my phone behind the counter. The hospital estimate was still there, still too expensive.

I carefully picked up the tray of drinks and forced myself to smile. "Going to serve table twelve now."

That was the jarring thing about working in customer service. You could be all sorts of miserable inside and still serve milkshakes with a bright smile.

I was halfway across the restaurant when the atmosphere turned cold, and a familiar shiver ran down my spine. I blew out a small breath and set the tray down, placing the cool beverages on the table. The feeling was one I've grown accustomed to. All of them caused it when they stepped into the restaurant.

All vampires made the room turn to ice.

The male wore a dark suit that probably cost more than my two-bedroom apartment, yet somehow pulled it off in a way that wasn't trying to impress anyone. His jet black hair was neatly combed back, highlighting a pale, perfectly structured face.

He took a seat near the window alone, which was unusual since vampires usually avoided window seats.

"Enjoy your drinks." I said to the customers and made my way back to the counter. Maya was standing behind the cash register when she leaned over to me and dropped her voice to a low whisper.

Not that the vampire couldn't hear her anyway.

"Dude, that's Valentin Sinclair." She nodded towards him.

I glanced at her. "Okay, so?"

Her eyes widened.

"Yaz. Please tell me you know who that is."

"I know that he's a vampire in a designer suit. Not that they ever wear anything else."

She looked offended on his behalf.

"He's the Valentin Sinclair."

I grabbed a menu, still having no clue who that was.

"Does he want food or a fan club?"

Maya covered her laugh. "You are impossible."

I walked over to him, my expression blank.

"Good evening. Can I get you something to drink?"

His eyes lifted to mine. The usual red. Not scary, just different. He didn't respond right away, and I wondered if he was waiting for me to react.

To become nervous.

To act like every other person who realized they were speaking to someone wealthy and powerful.

Instead, I pulled out my notepad and gave him a polite smile.

"Unless you're planning on ordering the menu by memory, I recommend choosing something before my manager starts wondering why I'm letting you admire the furniture."

There was the smallest pause, his brow lifting elegantly. His lip twitched slightly.

"I'll have the usual," he said.

So he speaks.

"The usual?" I asked. He wasn't a regular here.

"Blood."

I wrote it down. "What kind?"

He paused again, his eyes narrowing in what looked like amusement. I almost missed it, but his gaze darted to my neck for a split moment. My smile tightened.

"Deer."

"Hot or cold?"

Another pause.

"Warm."

"Anything else?"

"No."

I nodded and turned away. "Alright."

It was only after I reached the counter did I realize Maya was still staring at him.

"Stop it," I told her. "They hate staring."

"I'll never get used to them ordering blood like it's water."

"I bet they think the same whenever we order coffee."

"He's looking." Maya nudged me. I reached for the papers I'd been avoiding since my shift started.

"Yeah, because you're staring at him." I sighed, staring at the bold red words. More treatment costs for this month.

"He's looking at you, girl."

I didn't bother to look up.

"No, he's not, Maya."

I had much more important things to worry about. Besides, vampires like him didn't notice humans that much.

Especially not girls like me.

..............

The tip Valentin Sinclair left me was enough to make Maya's jaw drop.

I stared at the receipt. This was enough to cover this month's rent.

"That's not normal."

"No," Maya agreed. "It's really not."

"Maybe he made a mistake."

"He did not accidentally leave that."

I looked toward the window, my lips pursing when I realized that his table was empty.

"Guess he liked the service," I concluded.

"Yes, definitely the service. Not the pretty deer-eyed human who provided it." Maya smirked at me.

I elbowed her and laughed. "Shut up! I am not deer-eyed. That's not even a thing."

"You look like a deer caught in headlights. It's totally a thing."

I was about to elbow her again when the restaurant door slid open. I straightened up and glanced at her. "Saved by the customer."

"A very hot customer." She said softly, her eyes on the door. I followed her gaze, and my brow lifted in surprise.

Silver eyes. A werewolf.

We didn't usually get graced by the presences of both supernaturals in such a short amount of time. They usually preferred to be away from one another.

The werewolf was tall, and he radiated a confidence that made everyone in the room stop talking to get a good look at him.

He wasn't alone, but he separated from his group and took a seat at one of my tables.

Maybe he'd also tip me well. I needed it.

I approached with my usual smile.

"Good evening. Can I get you anything to drink?"

He read the menu, his finger tapping on his chin. Like all werewolves, he looked nearly godly. Not a single flaw to his warm-toned skin, sharp jawline, straight nose, and intense eyes.

"Do you recommend anything?" He looked at me after a few seconds.

I blinked.

Most supernatural customers didn't ask waitresses for recommendations. They ordered what they wanted and expected everyone else to adjust.

"The pasta is good."

"Good?"

I nodded. "Good. Not life-changing. Anyone who says it's life-changing is lying."

For the first time, he smiled, and my breath hitched. God, how beautiful.

"You're very honest," he said with amusement.

"It usually gets me in trouble," I admitted with a shrug.

"I can imagine. I'll have the pasta then, with a glass of scotch."

I wrote his order down. As I walked away, I felt his eyes follow me until I disappeared into the kitchen. I had served many werewolves over the years. Both the nice and mean ones. None of them have ever looked at me that long.

I found that really strange.

Because I was just Yasmin Jacobs.

A waitress.

A niece trying to save enough money for a surgery she couldn't afford.

Not someone important supernaturals should notice.

But that night, two of them did.

Looking back...

I should've known nothing good ever happens when both a vampire and a werewolf notice the same human.