Nymph on the Rocks: King's Fall

By Lizzie Strong

Viktor Spells is down on his luck. Kicked out of the rock band he helped build, left to rot as the bartender to the worst bar in town, and currently sleeping on the couch of his ex-boyfriend. Things look grim for the struggling half-fiend musician who just can't catch a break. That is until Olivia Muse walks in the door wanting a stiff drink. Olivia is the supermodel of King's Fall, agency loves her, booked solid, general public sweet heart, aloof and afloat in life. Until it all comes crashing down one night when she realizes her closest friends are her worst enemies. Everything feels fake. But Viktor? He's real. Really funny, flirty, and energetic, he is more than just a bartender taking pity on a pretty woman.

Things get heated quickly as Viktor awakens something in the doll faced Olivia. No longer hollow, she's smiling and laughing, even flirting too. She feels alive again. Being sober and constantly worried about slipping up again for ten years is tough. From ex-band members showing up unannounced, crooked deals with jealous coworkers, and the wedding of a fake friend looming over them, the two come to realize that… life is what you make it and love is more than skin deep.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzie Strong
• Release date: Mar 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215244302

Lizzie Strong

Hi! My name is Lizzie Strong, I'm a monster romance author where the monsters are spooky scary but the romance is cute and cuddly. I specialize in queer stories with a heavy splash of chaos. I'm here to write stories that make me giggle so hard I snort, love so much it hurts, and spread Bi/Pan awareness and acceptance. <3

Book preview

Nymph on the Rocks

Lizzie Strong

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Copyright © 2022 by Lizzie Strong

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [e-mail].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by Lizzie Strong

2nd edition 2023

Contents

Once upon a bar...

1. Chapter One:

2. Chapter Two:

3. Chapter Three:

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five:

6. Chapter Six:

7. Chapter Seven:

8. Chapter Eight:

9. Chapter Nine:

10. Chapter Ten:

11. Chapter Eleven:

12. Chapter Twelve:

13. Chapter Thirteen:

14. Chapter Fourteen:

15. Chapter Fifteen:

16. Chapter Sixteen:

17. Chapter Seventeen:

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Ninteen:

20. Chapter Twenty:

21. Chapter Twenty-One:

22. Chapter Twenty-Two:

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

24. Chapter Twenty-Four:

25. Chapter Twenty-Five:

26. Chapter Twenty-Six:

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About Author

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Once upon a bar...

Of course, the one time a pretty woman comes to sit at the bar, everything would go to shit! Viktor Spells’ life wouldn’t be his if it wasn’t a complete shitshow . The prettiest woman he’d ever seen sat down on the grimy dive bar stools and the kitchen exploded in flame. He didn’t even get a moment to greet her. She opened her mouth to speak. Flames licked out the kitchen window. Viktor laughed sheepishly and put a finger up. Then, with flailing limbs and hair flying behind him, he slid out from behind the bar into the burning kitchen. Who hires a fire elemental to work over an open gas stove top? One fire extinguisher and two no-longer-screaming line cooks later, he was able to slip behind the bar again. However, when he tried to return to the patient, breath-taking woman, his two grumpiest patrons perked up. Six-party shots? At a dive bar? He didn’t even have good vodka! Flashing an apologetic smile to the woman, he lined up shots. Before he even poured them all, the patrons were tossing them back.

It took a solid twenty minutes to get back to her. I am profusely sorry about all of that. What can I get you?

Her sweet face lifted to him, an amber gaze glowing in the dim lighting. She smiled brightly. Hands folded over the sticky top of the bar, she spoke No worries, you’re the only one here. They probably run you ragged, huh?

Viktor let out a wheezing laugh, both hands on his sides. If only she knew half of it!

You are looking at host, bartender, and waiter for this lovely gin joint. He waved his hands exuberantly around his head. Racks of fake booze along rustic wooden shelves decorated the walls behind him. A short building, longer than it was wide, with wooden walls, dangling lights, and sticky tables. But The Lost Barrel was his home… currently. Just until he could find something better, literally anything better. Not much a guitarist kicked from his band, a half-Fiend/half-Fae man living on his exes’ couch, could do about the job market. You get what you get and don’t throw a fit, or whatever else they say.

I’d hate to see it on a busy night, She knotted her brow with worry as she scanned the bar.

Dollface, this is a busy night, Viktor blurted out, cocking out his right hip.

Oh, She left her mouth open an inch in disbelief and pity as she returned to face him fully.

Viktor scrambled for anything to say, watching her analyze the countertop far longer than was comfortable. Smacking his forehead with the flat of his palm, he huffed. Duh, right, what are we drinking Dollface?

Her attention darted up to him. The illuminating smile returned to her lips. Pretty, supple lips painted with faded purple lipstick. The makeup on her face was old as if she’d worn it all day. Eyeshadow was a fleshy peach and brown, smokey style to accent her round eyes, but it’d gone sheerer. Viktor’s focus fell on the subtle track marks of tears that carved lines through her foundation. If he weren’t studying her sweet, heart-shaped face, he would have missed it. She’d dried tears recently and tried to cover them up.

That’s why she’s here. It couldn’t possibly be for the two-star rating experience or the reviews from disorderly guests whom Viktor gave the boot.

He put his elbow on the counter, cupping his chin in his palms.

I don’t know, actually, She finally confessed in one breath. Do you have anything sweet?

Other than you? Nah, not a chance, I’ve got sugar syrup but pretty much everything else tastes like ass, He chuckled.

Her smile widened as she broke into a fit of giggles. That’s unfortunate, how about like a margarita? Those are, okay? Right?

Viktor cocked his head to the right, leaning his cheek in his hands more. Her giggles turned nervous as she looked back down at her hands. He waited a long moment before pushing off the counter. Are you not a big drinker?

No, She gasped. Giggles were gone as she knitted her fingers together. Fresh tears welled on her cheeks.

He froze, mid-grab of his mixer and tequila. Eyeing her, he worried he’d ruined it already. Had he been too forward? It wouldn’t be the first time his flirty tongue and flapping gums got him into a pinch. Her eyes floated up from the bar, tears trickling down her cheeks. He lurched to the bar, collapsing against it. She plopped a chip against the counter and slid it toward him. His stomach twisted. A sobriety chip with a fat ‘10’ on the front stared back at him. She shrank, tucking her arms around her torso. Viktor licked his lips nervously.

Aw, Dollface, I can’t, He exhaled. Pinching the chip between two fingers, he held it up. This is a mighty big accomplishment. I couldn’t live with myself knowing.

Yeah, that’s fair. She hung her head.

Ten years? Viktor hadn’t lived in King’s Fall for ten years. He’d never lived anywhere that long. The sweet, crying woman before him had been sober for ten years! His chest squeezed his heart till it nearly shattered. Watching her swivel on her stool, she turned from him. Viktor felt panic like a frenzied horde of wasps under his skin. He buzzed from his crown to his toes as he put both hands on the top of the bar. She hopped off her stool, heading for the front door. Viktor launched himself over the bar, landing boots first behind her. Her chip weighed a thousand pounds in his hand.

Whoa, hold up, halt, He begged, grabbing the sleeve of her large jean jacket.

She spun slowly to him. If he let her leave this bar, someone without a conscious would give her a drink. His bleeding heart pooled around his leather boots. Easing his grip, but still holding her, he stared at her. Teary amber pools wavered back at him. She swayed in her stance, lips quivering.

Why don’t I get you a Shirley temple? Huh? You can stay here and keep me company, dragons above know I could use it. And you get a deliciously sweet soda drink with no alcohol and save this very important, very powerful artifact that’s burning a hole in my palm? Whatdoyasay? He winced, pleading with his eyes.

Don’t leave, pretty but sad lady.

She frowned deeply, facing him fully. What’s a Shirley temple?

Viktor’s face exploded into a massive grin. Scooping up the front of her sleeves, he danced her back to the bar. Hoisting himself up and over the top again, he spun to her with a dramatic arc of his arms. She sat on her stool, tucking her hands away in the sleeves of her jacket. Folding her arms over the bar, she watched quietly.

"You’re in for a treat, truly Dollface. This is the best drink in the house. Hands down. And it’s only a few coppers. You could drink my weight in them and still not spend a silver coin. He kicked up his energy a thousand notches for dramatic flair. It’s a lemon-lime soda in a shitty plastic cup with cherry syrup and actual cherries on top. And because you’re having a rough day, I’m gonna spoil you with extra teeth-rotting cherries. How’s that sound?"

She sputtered, laughing as she nodded. True to his word, he grabbed a large plastic cup and poured soda into it. When he lifted a red bottle from behind the bar, she flinched. He chuckled, setting it on the bar for her to see. Busying himself with cherry diving with a bar fork, he waited for her to read over the bottle. He’d fished out four cherries when she slid the bottle back across the bar. With a wink, he flashed a smirk and poured in the syrup. Poking a straw into the cup, he twirled the drink three times. Then he slid it across the bar top, Tada!

Thanks!

Don’t thank me till you taste it, you know, just in case. He shrugged, taking his bar towel out of the bucket. He wrung it out and pretended to wipe down the counter. Truly, he was waiting to see if she broke out in tears again. Instead, she sat there, cupping the drink with her sleeve-covered hands, and sipped it.

I like it. It’s like candy with bubbles, She exhaled, wiggling on her barstool happily.

Good, I was going for happiness in a grim place. He wiggled his full brows at her. Rough day, then huh?

She sighed, poking the straw into her mouth. She took a big gulp. How’d you know?

Other than you about ready to fork over the world’s biggest accomplishment? He flicked the chip with his thumb and caught it between his first two fingers in mid-air. Her wide eyes watched him with wonder as he danced it between his knuckles. Leaning over the counter, elbows down into the newly wet, but still sticky surface, he offered it back. Pinched between the tips of his forefinger and middle finger, he pointed it at her. Her eyes focused on it, but she didn’t grab it. He pleaded, Seriously, this is huge, it's weighing me down, and my legs are giving out. The lights are coming for me. The tunnel, I see it!

He faked a faint, tossing his head back as his knees bent. Boots slapping against the floor, he slid down behind the bar. She shook her head, her giggles returning joyously. Like bells in the wind or a gurgling creek, her laughter warmed his insides. She pushed up on her stool and grabbed the chip from between his fingers. He let out a loud groan of effort as he climbed to his feet once more.

Thank you, fine maiden, the burden of that artifact would have surely been my demise. He bowed deeply, arm out and head tucked.

A deep crimson flush crawled across her cheeks. She stirred her drink, gaze returning to the bubbling cauldron of sugar before her. So other than that? How could you tell?

Viktor licked his lips, You’re at the city’s shittiest dive bar asking what the sweetest drink is. He cocked a brow.

She nodded, nibbling on her cheeks. Finally, she returned her attention to him. I wouldn’t want to bore you with my problems.

Oh, please, do. He exhaled loudly, flopping against the counter. I’m dying here, Dollface. In between talking with the two knuckleheads in the kitchens and the two down there drowning the last brain-cells they have in tequila; I am floundering here. Any conversation from your lips would be a blessing upon my soul. I beg of you, tell me everything.

Olivia, She swallowed audibly as she brushed her hair back behind her ears. But you can call me Dollface too.

Viktor. He put his hand out to her. She watched his hand for a moment before pushing up her sleeve and taking it. He kept his wrist soft and shake gentle. Would you prefer Olivia?

I don’t mind either.

She flushed harder. Picking at the straw with her precisely carved fingernails, she worked the words in her head. He could see the cogs turning behind her forehead. In the silence, he was able to memorize her more. Silky hair expertly cut and styled, painted nails with expensive gold foil edges, a dainty chain around her throat, she wasn’t in his tax bracket. Even the jean jacket, three sizes too big and swallowing her whole, was designer. He could spot the flashy tag and faded logo along the collar.

I, uh, thought I had friends. Turns out I don’t. She started, swallowing hard. Sipping for a long time, she sat deathly still on her stool. Then, with a flap of her jean jacket arms, she tossed her head back. Giving up, just saying fuck it. She let out a low groan. My friend or I thought she was my friend; Macy is getting married in less than a month. We’ve been friends since we started working together. All of us are, the five of us. They were there when I got my first chip, and we’ve been through so much. So, she asked all of us to be bridesmaids and Hera is her maid of honor. I was so excited, I even offered to pay for more of the stuff than the others because I make more. I just wanted her to be happy. Right? That’s what friends do! Until Hera came up to me today and showed me a clip of Macy telling some of the other girls how much she hated that I was ruining her fun by not drinking. That I wasn’t making her wedding easy because she now had to offer a non-alcoholic beverage at the bar. Which is so stupid, because it’s not even all my fault, her parents don’t drink either! But then she said she only kept me as a Bridesmaid because I kept offering to buy stuff and she needed the publicity for her wedding. And she just went on, and on, and on!

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up on his face. Wow.

Right?! But the worst part was I know Hera only showed me that because I know Hera hates Macy. Always has, always will, and I get the feeling she did that, so I’d make a scene and ruin Macy’s wedding. Cause if I back out and take back everything I paid for, she wouldn’t have a venue or cake or florist. Olivia pouted, taking up her cup and sucking hard on the straw.

Viktor launched into gear, working to craft her a new one. That’s rotten luck, Dollface.

So, either I go to a wedding where I know I’m not wanted, and no one likes me… She sighed, trailing off.

Or become their villain. Viktor nodded, fishing for more cherries.

Exactly! she whined, hanging her head into her hands. Elbows digging into the bar, she dropped her forehead into her jean sleeve-covered hands. She perked up as a fresh Shirley Temple slid into view. With a warm, teary-eyed smile, Thanks, Viktor.

It’s what bartenders are for, I’m practically a licensed therapist at the low-low cost of your liver, or in your case, your teeth. He leaned over the bar. I’ve learned, sometimes just telling a stranger, especially in a grimy dive-bar such as this, is often the best therapy.

She nibbled on her cheeks again before she held up her chip. And thanks for stopping me.

Of course, Dollface. He winked.

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A nd that’s closing time, Viktor called out over the empty bar. In the last three hours, only a gaggle of people entered the bar. Drunk patrons and frat boys who ordered enough wings to drown the room in buffalo sauce. Olivia watched as people came and went, but Viktor stayed close to her. Maybe he knows she’s on the brink of a breakdown. She drank more cherry syrup than she could handle and dried it up in her stomach with fried pickles. They were hot, oily, crunchy, and perfect in a tiny black basket. A night she was sure she would drown in her sorrows turned into a fun evening. Between hyping her up on sugar and greasy food, Viktor showed her how to throw darts and play bar card games.

He wasn’t what she expected to find in this place. When she wandered inside, she was hoping for a dark hole to swallow her up. Instead, she found a bubbly, energetic bartender with a need to make her laugh most of the night. Her cheeks ached from how hard she giggled.

But his cheeks? They were sharp, his bones contouring his face as if a master crafter made him. Skin the color of jade with ashy splotches and veins, long black hair in a wavy frizz like he was brushing out his curls. Two large goat horns protruded from the sides of his forehead and curled backward. His best feature was the wide smile plastered to his lips and the sparkling black eyes. Olivia liked looking at him because she found something angular or different about him with every move he made. He wasn’t model handsome like she was accustomed to, he was bizarrely beautiful. Like something magical lived within him.

Does that mean I have to leave? Olivia sighed, putting away the cards into the deck box.

Unfortunately, they only pay for the lights to be on in this place for another ten minutes, so unless you glow in the dark like me, it’s going to get pretty abysmal in here, He chuckled.

You glow in the dark? Olivia gasped.

Every inch of me plus things inside me. He wiggled his brows suggestively as he collected up bottles and glasses. "But I’m nothing compared to the divine light glowing from that smile of yours."

She flushed, tucking her jacket around her torso. Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve smiled this much. My face kinda hurts.

Well get used to it, Dollface. If you come around here more often, I’m only going to become a bigger clown. I thrive on audience participation and will do anything for one more laugh. He tucked the cards away behind the bar.

Is he always this genuine? She watched him for a long moment. If she was going to come around more often? She shouldn’t. Hard-won sobriety aside, coming to a bar often wasn’t a good look for a model. Juliette would be livid to hear she’d stayed here all night. She was probably already worried sick. Olivia had called her in a moment of weakness, sobbing and freaking out all over her voicemail. All the managers had been at a meeting late into the afternoon. She could have gone over to Juliette’s house to wait, but the more she sat alone with her thoughts the worse it got.

Sober Olivia’s just not as fun as drunk Olivia. The words that broke her heart repeated over in her head as she drove frantically through King’s Fall.

But she liked sober her… why did none of her friends like her as well?

She stood up from her stool, taking the receipt he printed long ago. She put away her card and slip before pulling out a handful of gold coins. Putting them on the bar, she slid them toward him. For your performance.

His eyes widened as he stared down at thirteen gold on the counter. Dollface, that’s a lot of change.

Yeah, I spent more on Macy’s florist alone. At least you like my company. She shrugged, stepping away from the bar.

Thrive on it, live for it, truly! He called after her, I’m here, practically every night.

From the door, holding open the crusty hinges with her sleeve-covered hands, she bellowed back. Good, I could use a good therapist!

His boisterous laughter followed her out into the night. It tingled her insides as she headed for her car. She hugged her jacket tighter around her in the nighttime breeze. The moon and stars glistened over her. Her car, frosty to the touch, woke up with a purr. She sank into the front seat and gripped the wheel tightly.

She shouldn’t come back here. A gross, slimy dive-bar in the shadow of King’s Fall was not the ideal place for a recovering alcoholic and supermodel. At least, that’s what she imagined Juliette would berate her with when she came back tomorrow night. Or is it tonight? She glanced at her dashboard and groaned at the single-digit hour glaring back at her. She had, maybe, three hours to rest before having to work. Juliette had booked her solid every day up until the week of Macy’s wedding. She hadn’t minded before because it meant she got a solid week off. A whole week with her friends to laugh and celebrate Macy marrying the man of her dreams.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing to do with anyone. Surprise, surprise, who could have guessed? Except for Viktor. If he dropped out of the sky and invited her to go anywhere on a whim, she’d say yes. Every time. She pulled out of the lot for the bar, lamenting the lack of a fun bartender in her life already. However, it was for the best. As soon as she hit the first stop light, she yawned hard enough to make her jaw click. She shook her head to keep her mind awake, thriving on the last few bursts of sugary energy. It took her thirty minutes to roll up into her condo’s parking space. The bright yellow van in her guest spot told her everything she needed to know. Juliette was here, waiting for her.

Fuck, She huffed. Right, panicked voicemail. She counted her luck that Juliette didn’t have the whole place crawling with enforcers guild members, looking for her. Climbing the steps to the entryway and the elevator took all her energy. She waved to the night guard at the desk. Chuck, the centaur lounging behind the cluttered office desk, waved back.

Late night? he chuckled.

The longest, She sleepily slapped her card against the elevator keypad.

Your manager’s already up there. Came up here in a fluster looking for you. Chuck warned her with a nod of his chin to the elevator. The doors parted with a loud ding.

Yeah, you know how managers are, always molting over the smallest thing. Don’t worry about it. Olivia waved off his concern with a lopsided, tired grin. She shuffled inside and collapsed against the back of the elevator. She didn’t even have the energy to pull out her phone and check it. Like an absolute fool, she put it on silent.

The doors opened to her floor and Juliette came flying off her couch. Olivia! She roared.

I’m so sorry, Olivia whimpered, stumbling out into her condo. I was a mess, and I didn’t mean to scare you.

Juliette stared at her with the angriest look possible. Eyebrows pinched together, nostrils flared, lips pursed into a thin line, she was livid. She had every right to be. Storming up to Olivia, she snatched her by the biceps. She sniffed hard. Did you drink?

No. Olivia shook her head.

You promised you’d never do that again! Juliette throttled her, rattling the brain inside her skull. How could you do this after everything you’ve accomplished.

Olivia broke down into fat, crocodile tears. I didn’t drink! I swear Julie, I didn’t! She begged.

Prove it! Where were you? Because you reek of liquor and a bar. Juliette tossed her backward, shoving a finger in her face.

Olivia scrambled for her purse. She ruffled through her wallet with trembling hands. Tears blurred her vision and panic messed up her hand-eye coordination. Shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, she shoved the receipt into Juliette’s hands. She sank back into the wall next to her door, the elevator had already gone down. Her manager, a short human woman with arms meant for boxing, scanned over the receipt with intense precision. Inch by inch, Juliette relaxed the pinch on her forehead. Glancing up, she stared at Olivia with watery eyes.

You went to a bar for Shirley temples and fried pickles? She exhaled a long breath that made her throat wobble.

I won’t lie, I went there ‘cause I wanted to, Olivia confessed, gasping for air as she hugged herself. "But the bartender there, he took one look at me and knew. Like he could see into my head. I almost lost it, Julie, I know I fucked up. But