Blind Shark Tavern Novels & Stories

Rhyers remarked over his shoulder. “No. You said two.” She whispered. “Truly!” Rhyers eyed her with snapping green eyes. “Do you ever shut up?” She silenced. Lips whitening in aggravation. *** Blue Lark Guild, Dread Hideout SAVAGE JAXSON Savage sat in Winter Haven watching Adrea scramble behind the counter. Floundering to keep up with the demands for drinks. There was a new blonde working aside her, he noted. Neither is as prompt or levelheaded as Dimurah.

And most frightening of all — someone who doesn’t even bother to keep their disdain for others a secret. I shoot Tate a look. What the fuck? I want to say to him. You didn’t tell me Blacktip was run by gangsters. I mean, technically I didn’t know that it was … but I’d be willing to bet a lot of money that I was right. “You here to play?” Great White asks. “Yeah,” Tate says. “Buy-in is 20 grand.” Tate shoots me a look. Now it’s my turn. “Um, Sir,” I say sweetly, catching his attention.

She’d almost decided that she liked it black by now, though she suspected that sleep-deprivation may just have dulled her taste buds. She wandered over to the large front window of Blue Dragon Ink, and stared out at the parking lot. It was still pretty empty, and no big surprise: the only other businesses around here were Satan’s Bar and The Garage, both owned by The Road Devils. The garage was doing a full inventory and was closed that day, and the bar was open at noon to the general public. Of course, it was open 24/7 for Road Devils members, but she doubted that many of them would be around at ten a.m. on a Friday.

“No beer or soda?” The blond one, Finn, had been watching his fingers as he tapped out a beat. At the mention of beer, he turned those lovely blues her way. “Beer does sound good. Make it three." Someone kicked him under the table. The silverware and old vase of plastic flowers shook. “No beer.” Mr. Dark and Dangerous frowned. “The waters and steaks will be fine.” “Okay.” She walked off, but not before hearing Mr. Dark and Dangerous groan in annoyance and tell his friends, “She smells so good. We don’t come here anymore, or I’m going to end up fucking her and then eating her afterward.”

Taken aback by the soothing sounds of the forest. They listened to it for a while before Oli asked, "What is this place?" "I call it the Ashen Grove. There's a large willow tree here that looks like it's got ash from a fire painted onto its bark. I figured you'd like it here. A place where you can go without being bothered." Kate answered and brushed against her brother. "Thankyou." Oli said. "Your welcome, I'll leave you here to get to know the Grove a little better. Follow my scent back home, when your done." Kate said and Oli nodded.

"We do this through my PR team. We issue a formal rebuttal." "Your PR team is too polite, little brother," Isabella said, setting her glass down with a definitive clink. "Elara, put on your coat. We’re going to a dive bar in the Meatpacking District." The Blind Tiger – 11:00 PM The bar was a relic of a grittier New York—dark, smelling of stale hops and secrets. In a back booth sat Elias Vance, celebrating his "scoop" with a bottle of overpriced champagne.

The bar goes by the name The Blind Tiger, tucked away down an unremarkable alley in Greenwich Village. Pushing open the door, you’re greeted by warm amber lamplight and the low hum of jazz. Behind the bar stands a bearded bartender, slowly shaking a cocktail shaker in his hands. Lucas leads me to a tiny round table tucked in the corner. It is so small our knees nearly brush against one another. “It’s peaceful here,” he says, pulling out a chair for me. “I’ve dropped by a few times before; their whiskey is excellent.”

The rain starts just as the black sedan pulls up to the kerb outside the Moonshadow restaurant. It is the exclusive dining spot on the edge of the high-tier sector, built into a cliff overlooking the dark water of the bay. The gravel in the car park crunches under my heels as I step out. I pull my black wool coat tight around my neck to keep the wind out. The hostess does not ask for my name. She sees the silver Rogue crest pinned to my lapel and immediately bows her head, her fingers shaking as she leads me through the glass partition into the main dining room.

With a shake of his head, Benedict countered, "How could I possibly do something like that?" Penny seethed at him, "You little creep! Like mother, like son! We found your camera, young man. That's irrefutable evidence of your crime! Are you still going to deny it?" The police officers took on a terse tone with Benedict as well. "We'll consider letting you off on a lighter punishment if you confess, young man." Benedict froze, confusion blooming across his face. A beat later, he took off his shades, revealing a pair of milky-gray eyes that didn't register anything. "But I was born blind, everyone."

River POV When we pulled up in front of the restaurant, a large sign carved into a rustic wood read: Under the Sea. As soon as we stepped inside, I understood the name. The entire place looked like it had been plucked straight from the ocean floor. The ceiling was painted a deep, twilight blue with moving projections of waves dancing across it. Jellyfish-shaped lanterns hung above every table, softly glowing with shifting hues of teal and lavender. Glass tanks filled with vibrant fish lined the walls, and seaweed-like drapes framed the windows. The air carried a faint, salty scent mixed with sizzling butter and lemon—undeniably seafood heaven.