“Surely you can spare a few hours to do something fun?” She drew a soft finger over my hand.
The hyacinth scent of her pheromones temporarily overpowered me, and I caught myself contemplating her full lips and the swell of her breasts that were so close to popping out of her leather bustier.
Like I didn’t have enough problems with male satyrs and their damn magic. I did not need one more working her mojo on me.
Angelia giggled, obviously sensing the desire she aroused. “Come on, Jess. I want to take you up to the VIP room with me and kiss you in front of all the humans. They’ll go wild. Just think about what a head rush that would give you.”
I pulled my hand away, and the wave of lust receded. Thank dragons she wasn’t another Devon. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“No, it’s a great idea.” She grinned wickedly.
Lucen would think so too. He’d probably ask to watch.
“I really do have work.”
Angelia’s perfectly red lips fell. “You can’t put it off for a few hours? When’s the last time you went dancing? Oh, and I want to tell you about what I’ve been doing with the F.”
“Okay, that’s definitely something you shouldn’t tell me. I’m working with the Gryphons.”
Angelia dismissed the Gryphons by blowing hair out of her face. “This is good. You’ll like this. I told you how I was fiddling with the spell to make it so it can’t be used to assault anyone? I’m making progress.”
“That is good.”
“Very good. Come on, your drinks will be on me. Literally, if you like.”
I rolled my eyes, a gesture that was lost on her, but her mood was contagious. I could take off for a couple hours to do something fun, couldn’t I? I wouldn’t stay out late, and I’d hit the library first thing tomorrow morning. I was tired anyway since Lucen had woken me up so early. I wouldn’t be as productive tonight.
I was full of excuses.
“You are a master pusher, aren’t you? Definite drug queenpin.”
Angelia tossed her head back and laughed, but her stoic bodyguards didn’t so much as flinch. The contrast between them made me laugh.
“Put on something hot,” she called after me as I went into my bedroom to change.
“Anything I wear will look frumpy next to you.”
“Nonsense. That’s my appeal. I bring out the best in everyone.”
The truth of Angelia’s words might have been debatable, but I sure felt frumpy next to her. All satyrs gave off a kind of glow, for lack of a better explanation, that could draw heads. Even the less attractive ones. Like their magical healing abilities, however, or their need to feed from addicts, that kind of magnetism was not included with my particular brand of satyr subspecies. I gave off more of the stay-away vibe than the come-hither sort.
To cover up their more obvious satyr traits, Angelia and her bodyguards wore charms to disguise their horns. I simply wore my leather pants and a lacy red, midriff-baring tank top that didn’t see enough use these days since I no longer went clubbing.
At Purgatory, my outfit was tame. The line stretching around the building was a shifting mass of black, including large quantities of vinyl, fishnet and spandex. Most of the color people sported was in their hair or tattoos, the latter of which could be viewed easily. Fridays went by the moniker of “Fetish Fridays”, and in addition to the spectacle I was certain to find inside, many people chose to see just how little cloth they could get away with wearing.
With Angelia, getting in was simple. We passed the rope and entered the club in record time. Before I could fully take in the insanity or let my ears adjust to the music, I was ushered to the second floor and tucked into the VIP room.
This was one of the few areas of the club that I’d never seen before. Some sort of red and silver lights covered the walls in sensual patterns, and the chair I sat on felt more like real leather than the vinyl downstairs. The music was quieter too, thankfully.
A waitress came over to take our drink orders, and I settled against the soft cushions. “So this is how the other half parties, huh?”
Angelia laughed. “How is it that you’ve never been back here when you’re friends with Devon?”
“Calling Devon and I friends might be more than is deserved.”
She pooh-poohed that thought, and our drinks arrived. On the waitress’s heels came two lust addicts. Both were young women, which meant both were probably Angelia’s dealers for the evening. I pulled out my phone so I could pretend to ignore their conversation and the F changing hands.
Yet Angelia wouldn’t let me ignore her business completely. When the women disappeared, she filled me in on what she’d been doing with the F, and although I should have been thinking about turning her in for all of this, I couldn’t do it. That was what made Angelia so alluring—she cared. Or so she made me believe.
Angelia claimed that she didn’t want her drugs to be used to force people to do things against their will. If she ever was busted, there was a good chance the satyr who took her place wouldn’t bother with these safeguards. So Angelia got a pass from me.
One way or another, Dezzi was pulling me to her side. Arresting Angelia would be a huge score for the Gryphons, but I wouldn’t be the one to turn her in. And Angelia knew it, or she wouldn’t have invited me along.
“This was Dezzi’s idea.” I set down my Jack and Coke, realization dawning. “Dezzi suggested you hang out with me so I’d start feeling like more of one of the gang.”
Angelia rested her head against the chairback. Her brown hair fanned out around her, and she looked sweet in spite of her outfit. “No, Dezzi didn’t tell me anything. I wanted to get to know you better. You have a reputation—the girl who traded souls, the woman who beat the furies, the human who’s stolen satyr hearts. You think that’s normal? You’re fascinating. A legend.”
“A legend? What’s this about hearts, plural?”
Angelia sucked on a fingernail. “I said nothing.”
“That’s the problem. This is Dezzi’s doing, isn’t it? Admit it.”
“No.” She slapped my arm. For someone who couldn’t see, she had excellent aim.
I swished my drink around to stir up the whiskey that settled to the bottom. “Lucen then.” When Angelia didn’t deny it immediately, I slammed back the remains of my cocktail. “Damn his manipulative, scheming ass.”
“Don’t be too hard on him. It’s a nice ass.” She grinned into her wineglass, sensing my confusion. “I can’t see it, but I’ve grabbed it.”
I choked on my ice.
That made her laugh some more, and she pulled me closer. “I’m not getting into your relationship issues, but I do—as a friend—have some advice.”
Warily, I spit out the remains of the ice cube. Angelia had offered me advice before, namely that I should trust Lucen. “Uh-huh. Advice, and that is?”
Her head swiveled, taking in the room. I wondered if she was listening to voices or otherwise sensing the other occupants by their emotions. Although disguised satyrs worked the bar, most of the occupants were human.
“Your left,” she said at last. “The bartender with the golden skin and black hair. The one with tattoos on his arms. See him?”
“Yeah?”
“His name is Noah. He’s a sweetheart and hung like a satyr, or so I hear.” She giggled at her own joke, one based on the misconception that all satyrs were blessed with super-human equipment. “Take him for a spin. You’ll have fun.”
I needed another drink and motioned for the waitress. “Right. Fun.”
Fuck Lucen. This was his real plan, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about me hanging out with Angelia, becoming friends with her so I’d join the damn council. It was about me hanging out with Angelia so she could help cure me of my monogamy.
“Not your type?” Angelia asked.
I re
sted my head on my knees. “Sorry, but my type is not the kind of person who’s into screwing random people.”
Our waitress brought us over another round, and Angelia smiled prettily at her. The waitress was human and definitely Angelia’s type, from what I’d observed of her addicts.
“Noah’s not random. I’m vouching for him. He’s a good guy. You’ll like him, and he’ll treat you right.”
I raised my head long enough to drink deeply. “I appreciate that your job is supposed to be to help me select men, and I do want to make my relationship with Lucen work, but I’m not sure this is the way. Noah’s hot, I’ll give you that, and I’m glad to hear he’s nice, but I need more. I can’t just fuck people like that. It’s not me. I don’t work that way.”
Angelia made a thoughtful noise as she sipped her wine. “Have you tried?”
“No!”
“Then how do you know you won’t like it? I’m only asking because we are satyrs. We have that effect on people.”
I laughed ruefully to hear her fling my own words back at me. “That’s beside the point. Maybe I’m being a brat, but I don’t want to try. I told Lucen I would, but I don’t want to do it.”
I expected a scolding or something like it, but Angelia fell silent. “A lot of humans are like that,” she said at last. “Not all, but a lot. Lucen said you’re one of us, but you’re also very different in a lot of ways. You’re much more human.”
“Yeah, I am. As far as my relationship with Lucen is concerned, I might as well be completely human.”
Angelia reached over and squeezed my wrist. “Even among humans, there are a lot of types of relationships. If you can’t separate sex from love, then maybe you need to find the right sort of balance is all.”
Her words swelled with hope. She wanted us to be happy. Angelia wanted everyone to be happy. It made me wonder how she treated her addicts.
“What I need to find is a way to…” I chased down that thought with a drink.
What I needed was a magical cure that would stop Lucen from needing addicts. He could stay a satyr, but he could feed off me only. Or better yet, off no one.
And that made me wonder… If he hoarded a lot of energy the way Eric’s soul-sucking goblin had, could he last a long time without feeding? And if he didn’t need to feed himself, would that mean he didn’t need to feed his addicts with sex as well?
But that was an awful thought. That would require turning an addict into a ghoul, and from what Lucen had suggested, the containers to store such magic were also nasty. So, bad Jess for contemplating any of this.
“What you need is what?” Angelia asked.
I shook my head, watching the carbonation in my drink, trying to shake away the evil, selfish idea like I could shake the bubbles right out of my soda.
“What she needs,” Devon said, “is to come with me.”
Startled, I shook my glass too hard, and a spray of carbonation landed on my chin. Peachy. Given my conversation with Angelia, Devon was so not the person I wanted to see right now.
Chapter Twenty
Devon stared down at me with a devious smile on his face. He also had a charm hiding his horns, and he was far better dressed than anyone else in the vicinity—black pants and shirt, black tie, black jacket. Expensive-looking. It was what I’d come to identify as his typical work clothes.
“What did I do this time? I’ve been sitting with Angelia, not breaking and entering.” Every time I’d come to Purgatory in the last month, I’d gotten in trouble with Devon for doing something I wasn’t supposed to. Just this once I was innocent. I did not need a lecture.
Devon rubbed his chin. “Guilty conscience? Who said you did anything wrong? I’m sure we can come up with something to punish you, though, if that’s what you’re into.”
“Funny.”
“Yet you’re not laughing. Tough audience.” He held out a hand. “Come.”
I made no move to get up, hating that he could sense the way my stomach twisted. “Why?”
He sighed. “Because you’ve been avoiding me, and I want to talk.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.” That was a lie, which he could tell. I should have weasel-worded my response more cleverly.
Devon’s smirk broadened, confirming it. “Then you should have no problem talking with me.”
“I don’t mind,” Angelia said, so helpfully.
Of course not. She, Devon and Lucen were probably all in this together.
“Fine.” I hurriedly finished my drink, expecting Devon would insist on going to his office, but instead of moving toward the elevator, he led me around a corner.
We landed in an alcove off the very back of the VIP area, one almost impossible to see from the lounge proper. A gap in the wall provided a window onto the main dance floor, and cushions surrounded it. I took a seat next to the gap so I could stare out of it when I needed an excuse for not looking at Devon.
He sat on the other side of the gap and stretched out his legs. “So, what’s wrong?”
His feet were too close. I pulled my legs in, then decided that made me appear defensive. Damn it. I had to shift positions entirely. “Nothing’s wrong.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You’ve been avoiding me since that night when Lucrezia tried to kill you, and now you’ve either got the world’s worst wedgie, or you’re squirming for some other reason. If it’s your unders, I recommend ditching them, but I suspect it’s not.”
I began to say it wasn’t him, but that would be a lie and he could tell. Best to deflect. “I’m having relationship issues with Lucen, and since you’re his best friend, I’d rather not talk about them. Okay?”
Devon scratched his chin again. Was he growing in a goatee, and why hadn’t I noticed that before? Oh wait, probably because I’d been avoiding him. I had to admit it was a good look. Devon had a bit of a baby face, but the scruff gave him an edge to match his personality.
A different waitress entered the alcove and set down a fresh drink for me, and one for Devon. That would make this my third in an hour. Tempted though I was to reach for it, doing so was a bad idea. My tolerance was pretty high, but some situations called for stone-cold sobriety. It was too late for that, but at the very least I could refrain from making my head fuzzier.
“I think since you can’t avoid me at the moment, you’re avoiding the question,” Devon said, “but I’ll play.”
“I’m not asking you to play.”
He leaned toward me. “I like to play.”
I leaned away, and my head rocked as though the alcohol was hitting me all at once. Funny—I’d swear it was clove-scented alcohol. In other words, I couldn’t tell how much was booze-induced intoxication and how much had to do with Devon’s power. I considered moving farther away from him, and to hell with rudeness, but what good would that do? He’d simply laugh about how uncomfortable he made me.
“I don’t need to discuss my relationship issues with you. If you want to gossip, do it with Lucen.”
“Is this about your sex hang-up? I’ve told you before. I want to help.”
“Yeah, I bet.” I threw all the sarcasm I could muster into the words, but it didn’t change the fact that when I met Devon’s bright eyes, my body became very ready to take him up on that offer. My heart beat harder, and I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious of all my exposed skin.
Devon said nothing. He didn’t have to in order to make his point, and he continued to watch me with great amusement.
Fuck it. I drank more. “It’s not just the monogamy thing. He doesn’t talk to me, and that pisses me off.”
My brow furrowed at my own admission. Well done, alcohol. Not only had I not planned on talking about this crap with Devon, I hadn’t fully acknowledged the truth to myself before now.
Yet it was definitely true. Lucen’s silence did piss me of
f. It did make me wonder if he was hiding things from me.
Surprised as I was to hear it myself, Devon seemed to be just as taken aback. He poked at the ice in his drink. “Interesting. When you say he doesn’t talk to you—can you be more specific? I find he never shuts up.”
“Well, no, not if you get him started about certain subjects, but he won’t talk about himself. Why am I telling you this?”
“Probably because you’re drinking, and you’re desperate to avoid that other topic.”
I groaned and pushed my glass away. Both of those answers were correct. “Can we pretend we never had this conversation? I should go home. I have work to do tomorrow.”
“That you admitted anything tells me you had too much to drink for me to allow you to leave by yourself. That means you’ll need a ride. I’ll be the one who provides it, which means you’ll end up talking to me longer anyway. So really, you should stay here where it’s comfortable and talk instead.”
“I can leave just fine.”
“You can lie to yourself but not to me.”
“I hate you.”
“Another lie, but back to Lucen. What do you want to know about him that he won’t talk about?”
I draped my arm over my eyes, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. When I peeked out from under it, Devon was still there. No surprise.
Resigned, I let my arm flop back to my side. “Anything. Everything. I want to know if he chose to become a satyr. I want to know what he was like, what he did before he opened The Lair. I want to know where he’s from. But all he’ll tell me is that the past isn’t important. I guess that worries me, like there’s something about his past he doesn’t want me to know.”
“There isn’t.” Devon sounded so certain.
I narrowed my eyes. “And you know this how?”
“Because I know why Lucen isn’t telling you about his past.”
[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company Page 19
