Dev and I chatted for a bit. His recovery was going well, though he was frustrated with everyone handling him with kid gloves. I thanked him for his hospitality with the bungalow and after five minutes, inexplicably found myself invited to a cricket match, a sport I always confused with croquet. I had the good sense not to ask which one Alice had played in Wonderland using flamingos.
“Look at you.” Ro stepped inside and motioned for me to turn.
“I’ll leave you kids alone.” Dev clapped his son on the arm and left.
Ro swept a very slow, very thorough gaze over me and I preened.
“Lox?” Ro said.
“Thank you, I feel beau–Wait. What?”
“You gave my allergic mom salmon?”
I planted my hands on my hips. “And thanks for the heads up, Ro-Ro.”
He grinned at me, his white teeth gleaming. “Only Mom calls me that, so if you’re ever planning on having sex again?” He made a slashing motion across his throat.
“Noted. Do I look good enough for a demon?”
“You look beautiful, but you’re missing something.” He pulled a robin’s egg blue box out of his pocket.
“That’s from Tiffany’s.”
“If you say so.”
I grabbed the box and opened it. “Tell me that goose egg isn’t real.”
The oval sapphire on a long, slender gold chain could have been used as a weapon.
“It’s real.” He slid the chain over my head. The jewel nestled in my décolletage, catching the light in a million fiery prisms. “You want to attract a demon, right? Go big.”
He slid his arms around me, turning us to face the mirror. While there was no doubt this couple could stand on any celebrity stage, truthfully, I liked the private version of Ro and me best. The one where he was wearing one of my tap T-shirts, or we were dancing around and singing, being goofs.
“This isn’t us,” I said.
“I know.” His arms tightened, his chest rising and falling in tandem with my heartbeat. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, because there’s no going back. You ready to step into the spotlight?”
16
After a quick glamouring of our Rasha rings so that Hybris wouldn’t know we were hunters if, no, when she showed up, Ro ushered me to the limo he’d rented. He’d stocked it with champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries.
Limo ride 2.0 was way better than the first one.
I bit into a large berry and licked chocolate off my lip, watching refracted streetlights slither over the tinted windows. “I’m rethinking the definition of us, because I could get used to this. Also, Rolita is damn hot.”
“You’d get stabby if you had to wear Spanx on a regular basis.”
I held out my champagne flute to be filled. “Who said I was wearing that?”
“No one is that smooth under form-fitting satin. Seen a lot of women in evening attire.”
“More like you’ve removed a lot of evening attire.”
He winked at me and tipped his flute back.
“Little less hot now, buddy.”
He ran a hand along his body. “I’m the ultimate hotness.”
“Eh.”
“Take it back.” Ro pulled me to him and rained smooches on my cheek.
“Watch the hair.” I squealed and batted him away. Feebly, because let’s face it, even his cheek kisses were worth having.
When the limo pulled up to the curb outside the upscale lounge where the charity event was being held, I scooted closer to the window. I couldn’t see the front doors for the paparazzi. In fact, I could barely see the red carpet.
I did a couple of breathing exercises from my tap days to center myself.
The door opened and the driver extended his gloved hand.
“Allow me.” Ro got out to assist me.
I stepped onto the red carpet and the world exploded in a flurry of flashbulbs. My vision was a blur of white dots and I couldn’t hear myself think over the dozen reporters yelling at us.
Most of the crowd jamming the barriers on either side of the red carpet was female, many holding signs professing their love for my boyfriend, and all of them shrieking with near-hysterical fervor.
Honestly? It was madness and I reveled in it. When it came to performing, my attitude was the bigger the audience, the better. With each step, my spine grew straighter, my chin notched up just that much more.
Ro kept one hand on the small of my back, ushering me along the carpet, as he waved at his fans, totally at ease. Another day at the office. “Well done.”
I couldn’t have wiped my smirk off my face if I’d been paid.
Nothing I’d seen or read had prepared me for the tangible current of his fans’ adoration. It was that live-wire hum that one wrong spark could turn into an all-consuming inferno. And from the hate shining out at me from many of them, I was that spark.
I’d dealt with so much shit since becoming Rasha. I’d had demons try to kill me and go after my people, I’d had my very sense of self challenged and tested and remade via the same kind of force that turned carbon into diamonds, and on top of all that, I was trying to stave off the apocalypse. So apologizing for daring to be the woman on Rohan’s arm? I wanted to throw back my head and laugh. That’s right. Take a good look.
I swaggered into that club like I had a cape and theme music.
The frosted glass doors didn’t mute the clamoring much. If anything, the crowd seemed to swell in a disappointed chorus once they closed behind us.
To get inside the main room, we had to pass a wall of colorful photographs featuring youth of all ages in different impoverished countries that this charity had helped get off the streets and into affordable housing and jobs. The stories mounted under the photos were incredibly moving. I was especially taken with one physically disabled young girl who’d been abducted by a gang in South China and forced into slave labor, begging on the streets and giving whatever she earned to the criminals. Now in her early thirties, she oversaw the charity’s operations in that entire country.
“I want to donate,” I said. I couldn’t give my time, but I wanted to contribute something.
“Sure.” Rohan turned from the profile he’d been reading to smile at me. “I’ll put you in touch with my contact.”
“You’re already familiar with this organization?”
“Zack and I learned about them at the same time on our… second? Yeah, second world tour. I’ve been supporting them ever since.”
A knot of people had gotten bottlenecked at the photos, so Ro and I moved on to the main space.
It was an enormous circular room with a dazzling stained glass ceiling in blues and greens that gave a dreamy underwater effect. Dozens of crystal chandeliers cast a cool white light and the air was thick with perfume and entitlement.
Old money was represented by distinguished men in conservative suits and their much younger trophy wives. New money was the flashier, younger set in designer wear that ran from chic outfits I’d seen on the covers of fashion mags in the airport on my way to Los Angeles, to a dress whose ball gown skirt was an explosion of feathers and twigs, to the guy wearing a powder blue tux jacket with pants that seemed to be made of balloons.
“Is that?” I tugged on Ro’s sleeve, flicking my eyes to the superhero star deep in conversation with the squeaky-voiced singer of this week’s number one Billboard pop hit.
“Yeah. You wanna meet them?”
“You know them?”
“No.” He shrugged. “What does it matter? They’re just people.”
“No, they’re your kind of people. Famous ones. The rest of us can’t casually saunter over and engage in conversation. We accost, beg for scraps, and are pathetically grateful when they deign to take a picture with us.”
“Rohan always took celebrity as his due,” a mellow voice said from behind me. “Even before he was famous.”
I whipped around and crushed his Fugue State Five band mate Zack in a hug. “It’s you.” I sniffed him.
“You even smell good. My fanfic was bang on.”
Rohan had covered his face with one hand, as if trying to distance himself from me, but Zack was laughing.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I was worried when you met me you’d be disappointed.”
“This conversation is weird,” Rohan said.
“Hush. This doesn’t concern you.” I took in every inch of Zack’s wiry six-foot frame, from his short afro and neat goatee to his soulful eyes, black skin, and those beautiful pianist hands of his. “No. You never disappointed me. Except for the gay part, since even I had a tough time justifying your fictional interest in me.”
“Life is disappointment,” Rohan said.
He pulled Zack into a hug, both manbro slapping each other’s backs. The only other close friends of Ro’s that I’d seen him with were Lily, which as an ex had a different vibe, and Drio, which given their shared guilt over Asha, also had a different vibe. It was nice to see him interact with someone with such ease and genuine warmth.
And it was positively delicious hearing the two of them gossip like moms on a playground about half the people in this room.
After Rohan had shared some juicy tidbit about what really went down between the two actors pretending not to know each other over by the bar, I nudged him. “And I’m the starfucker?”
He snickered like a twelve-year-old boy. “You are. It’s even in the job description.”
I shook my head, with an aggrieved sigh.
“Amazing that you ever get laid.” Zack smoothly stepped in between us and slung an arm over my shoulder. “Come with me. I have to talk up the charity and sadly, even important causes go over better with beautiful women.”
I struck a saucy pose. “He thinks I’m beautiful.”
Rohan grinned. “You’re okay in certain lighting.”
“So under appreciated.”
Zack watched us in blatant amusement. “I have a cousin you might like. He’d appreciate you just fine.”
Ro raised an eyebrow while I pretended to consider the offer.
“Nah, I’ll stick with this one.” I shooed my boyfriend off. “Redeem yourself and fetch drinks, good man.”
“Will you pay for them later?” he murmured into my ear.
Heat flared hot and bright in my belly. “Put them on my tab.”
His eyes darkened, then he headed for the bar.
Not gonna lie. Being ushered around and introduced to celebrities for the first hour was fun, helping Zack by recounting some of the stories about those kids was even better. Most of these people hadn’t bothered to read the profiles so my excellent memory from years of having to quickly pick up dance steps came in handy. The only sucky part was how many people interrupted us to ask about Rohan and me. It was good on the assignment front, but bad for the charity and made me feel like fresh meat.
I took a sip of my vodka cranberry, parched from all the talking I’d been doing. “Sorry. I think I was more distracting than useful.”
“Naw,” Zack said, his slender fingers tapping against his glass of sparkling water. “They’ll all be dishing about how they were here with you two and the charity will get mentioned. All good press.”
Rohan joined us from his sweep of the room. Since Zack knew what Ro did, we didn’t have to keep things hidden from him. In fact, we’d given him the demon’s description to have another set of eyes on the lookout for her. “No sign of Tia.”
“Luna!” Raquel air-kissed me. “Who’d have thought you clean up so well?”
“McGonagall, darling. Nice hand towel.”
Her silver sequined dress was très mini but she rocked it and the matching sequined bra that winked out from beneath the dress strap was to die for.
Zack and Rohan clutched their drinks, eyes darting between us.
Raquel burst out laughing. “Oh, you poor puppies. They can’t tell if we like each other or not. Relax, gentlemen. We’re all good.” She nudged me. “Introduce me.”
“Rohan and Zack, meet Raquel.”
They all shook hands and then Raquel asked if she could borrow me for a minute. “You okay?” she said. “I heard about the attack.”
I shrugged. “Have you found Sienna?”
“She’s moving around a lot. We almost had her once but…” She shook her head. I guess Esther hadn’t told the witches that I was the one behind the location spell.
“Question for you. What did Tessa do for a living?” I said.
“She was a de-clutter and positive energy consultant.”
I laughed. “No, really.”
“Really.”
“Wow. That’s very Californian.”
“Mock all you want, but Good Vibrations was pretty successful. She had clients consulting her from around the world.”
Taking flakiness global. Maybe Ari and Kane could do something with the information.
“I met the head of the Brotherhood,” Raquel said, casually steering me to a quieter corner.
“My condolences.”
“Right? What a major dickhole.”
“What’d he want?”
“To threaten me into turning over the witches responsible for the attack on his chapter. I told him that my witches weren’t responsible and to go fuck himself. Then I threatened to set his junk on fire if he so much as looked at any of them funny.”
“I’d have paid good money to see that.”
“Yeah, he ran like a little prison bitch. One other thing.”
“That already doesn’t sound good,” I said.
“When Tessa was found, I called in a favor from a witch in the coroner’s office and asked for an autopsy. Off the record. They were backlogged and I just got the results.”
My hand tightened on my glass. “And?”
“Tessa was tortured before she died. It’s not what killed her, that was definitely the dark magic, but she had cracked ribs, broken bones in her hands and feet, and a cracked skull. Someone worked her over a few days before she died. If Sienna knew this somehow?”
“How? If Tessa had told her, Sienna wouldn’t have waited this long to go ballistic.”
“I got the call Wednesday morning.”
The day Sienna attacked. “Shit.”
“Everything okay?” Rohan slid an arm around me.
“No,” Raquel said. “I’ll let your girlfriend tell you. I’ve spent too long talking to this nobody.” She swiped my drink, took a sip, and throwing a finger wave over her shoulder, sashayed back into the crowd.
While it was all well and good that we had Sienna’s motive for the attack, it sucked that Zander had most likely been part of the torture, as evidenced by the scratches on his hand that he wouldn’t explain.
Rohan’s foul mood over that soured further as our primary mission was turning out to be a bust. The evening was winding down with no sign of Tia. There were a number of performances, including one by the pop star, and one from this middle-aged soft rock artist whose saxophone use resulted in evil and insidious ear worms. I wished he’d been a demon, but alas. Needless to say, Dad adored his stuff. I recorded the two songs he performed and emailed the video to my father, before going into the designated green room with Rohan.
He and Zack would be closing out the night with a song they’d written together years ago and recorded as a one-off track.
“You’re a rock god.” I slipped off my heels, sitting on a lumpy sofa.
In front of the mirror, Rohan closed one eye, applying his eyeliner with a steady hand. “Which you knew.”
“Knowing and experiencing are two different things. Those fans outside were crazy. Let’s do something really bold to get Tia’s attention.”
“Like what?” He turned from the mirror and struck a pouty model pose. “Whaddya think?”
Ro had changed out of his tux into an outfit he’d told me was called a sherwani. Made of soft velvet with a stiff collar, this long, olive green jacket shot through with gold thread had a militaristic feel with its row of buttons down to the knee. He wore the tradi
tional garment over a camouflage tank and olive green skinny jeans rolled carelessly up at the ankle, his bare feet stuffed into burgundy leather runners. His gold eyes popped against the eyeliner and he’d gelled his hair into bedhead spikes.
I beckoned him close with the crook of a finger. “This may be the sexiest I’ve ever seen you.”
He scrunched up his face. “Are you exoticizing me?”
“I believe I am, yes. However, in the interests of fair play, I can break out the shtetl garb and headscarf should you wish to fulfill some Jewess roleplay fantasy.” I batted my lashes at him. “I know how much you like roleplaying, baby.”
“Not with you dressed like your grandmother. I’m good.”
“Please. Bubbe only wore Chanel.”
Rohan cocked his head. “How do you feel about Chanel? One of those tweed mini suit things?”
“You wanna play naughty student and sexy teacher, don’t you?”
“I didn’t until two seconds ago, but now I’m thinking I could get behind the idea.” He prowled toward me.
My heart kicked up. “The door isn’t locked.”
His grin turned wicked as he straddled me. “I know.”
Rohan sucked on my neck.
Knock. Knock.
“The door,” I mewled, my chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
“Whoever it is could just walk in.” His lips vibrated against the pulse in my throat.
“That would be bad.”
Another knock. More insistent.
“Rohan?” Zack said.
Rohan untied my halter top, the silky fabric slipping down to my waist. He set his mouth to one breast. “Hmm-mmmm.”
I clutched his shoulders and moaned.
“Five minutes, Rohan. Don’t make me come in there and see something we’ll all regret.”
“Nothing to see. All good,” I called out in a shaky voice.
Zack laughed. “Right.” He walked away, his footsteps growing fainter.
Ro canted his hips, pressing his hard-on into me. “Five minutes works for me.”
I ground up against him. “Ooh, fast sex. Can we make it shitty and dry, too?”
“Ask nicely and I’ll give you the entire regret trifecta.”
My laugh turned into another moan as Ro kneaded my breasts. “Do you have a condom?”
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