It was approaching twelve o’clock when Lavinia’s cab pulled up in front of the club on Trent Avenue. She glanced down at the piece of paper with the address she’d hastily jotted down, hoping she hadn’t superimposed any of the numbers. It had happened in the past. Just as she’d double-checked the driver’s supernatural persuasion before getting in the cab.
It had only taken one drive with djinn who wanted to take over the world behind the wheel before she realized that not even public transportation was safe for her anymore. She needed to be more discerning. She needed to stop and use her head before she rushed into things, even if it meant taking a little longer to find a cab.
Whatever it was about her blood, about the psychic creature she’d become, made her interesting to paranormals. Interesting, and a target for some.
God, it was something she’d never thought she’d have to deal with, not in a million years. She could only imagine what her coworkers would say if she told them. Showed up to work and explained the nature of her problems to them. Beyond those of the normal variety.
This cab’s driver was one-hundred-percent human. Which meant all Lavinia needed to avoid a potentially bad situation was a can of pepper spray. She remembered once upon a time when her biggest worries had been comprised solely of the human variety. Not anymore.
The driver parked in front of the address, and she glanced out the window at the three stories of building with no discerning features whatsoever. Lavinia tugged at the hem of her dress, falling a neat six inches above her knees—not that she’d measured. And her palms were still sweaty! What had she gotten herself into? With her luck, Pike would have her practice fighting some kind of gargoyle on top of the roof to see if she could balance in heels and a dress. Whatever it was he had in store, she knew it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be something her flaky visions could help with.
“Is this the place?” Her driver drew the parking brake and joined her in looking out the window. “You sure?”
It was only when she took the time to look, really look, did she see the glamour painted over the bricks near the front door. The pulse of lights showed her the club for what it was. A place to gather. A place to dance. To drink. To party.
She nodded with a slight exhale, relieved beyond measure. “Absolutely, thanks. This is the place.” She dug in her purse for the fare and included a hefty tip for the man. “Here you go. Keep the change.”
It took another long moment for her to get her bearings. The cab zipped off down the street, and she wondered what it was about humans that made them so oblivious to the world of magic around them. Sure, it had taken her some time to zoom in on the enchantment masking the entrance to the club. Now that she had, she could see the flash, the zing, the zip. She heard the music and felt it through the soles of her rather inconvenient shoes.
Part of her knew that if given the choice, she wouldn’t want to go back to her old self. Her old world.
Lavinia hugged her jacket closer to her body as the wind bit into her skin. It might have been approaching the witching hour, but there were hardly any people in sight. Those waiting near the corners of the building held their ground as if rooted. Waiting for others to appear and make their mark. She wondered if one of them was a bouncer.
She was about to walk up and knock on the door when a hand fell on her shoulder. Screeching, Lavinia whirled around with her arms up. Ready to…what? Attack? She didn’t have a prayer if it was another ghoul hell-bent on sucking her liver out through a straw.
What she saw was a devilish smile accompanied by the cutest dimple she’d ever seen in her life. Then the scent hit her. Masculine. Intoxicating. The type of smell that hooked you around the heart and dragged you down so deep you had no choice but to—
“You made it on time.”
“Of course!” she responded, trying to sound excited. Eager, even. Instead, she was worried about whether she could pull this off without any mess-ups.
He looked better than she’d ever seen him, which was not to say he didn’t look like an eleven on a daily basis. Sometime between their afternoon karakondzula failure and now, Pike had taken the time to change his outfit. He was no longer the bad boy in ripped jeans and a faded jacket. The kind your mother warned you not to play with.
He was a billionaire playboy, an entrepreneur out on the town. He’d ditched the boots for a sleek pair of black wingtips, which probably cost more than the monthly rent on her apartment. Instead of the jeans, there were trousers, and the jacket became a double-breasted overcoat in a dark charcoal.
Meow.
She couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop the thin raindrop of drool that wanted to escape from her open and gaping mouth.
“You did something.” Pike gestured. He didn’t seem bothered by her lack of tact. If she’d given it a second thought, he was probably quite pleased with himself for having gotten the reaction he worked for and wanted. “With the eyes.”
Lavinia ducked and sent her bangs into her face to hide the slight sheen of eyeshadow and eyeliner and mascara she’d painstakingly painted onto her lashes. “Yeah, I did a little something. I thought, hey, if you’re going out, you gotta look the part. I’m just not used to dressing up. This is, well, it’s not me.”
Pike nodded. “It looks good on you. Really. I’m not just making shit up.”
Her mood instantly brightened. How horrible. “Thank you. I appreciate the kind words.”
“Do you know why we’re here?”
She shook her head. “Not a clue. Just don’t expect me to move much.” She ran a hand along the sleek line of her dress. “The outfit isn’t really conducive toward fighting. Tell me there isn’t a goblin in your pocket.”
“Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”
The high-pitched giggle definitely didn’t belong to her. So why was it coming out of her mouth?
“Come on.” His fingertips trailed along her waist to guide her forward. “You look beautiful. Stop fidgeting.”
Indeed, her fingers were plucking at the too-high skirt and too-low neckline of her dress. She tried to still their motion. “Sorry, I’m a little nervous. I don’t come to places like this.”