[Atticus’ POV]
“Why are you here again?”
August, the bartender and owner of Morte Diem, stares at me curiously as I sip at my drink while extending my senses to see if I could feel anything that stood out.
“Why shouldn’t I be here?” I counter.
Since coming to Boston, this was the place I spent most of my time since it was the gathering place for supernaturals.
I stumbled across it during my first week here and have been frequenting it ever since.
“You’re making my guests uncomfortable,” he continues, nodding toward a man with glittery skin and what looked like vines wrapping around him who is watching me with a look of unease on his face. “Could you not look like such a f*****g creeper?”
“Creeper?” I repeat, frowning. “I don’t quite understand what that term means.
I was still adju
