The Better Part of Darkness

talking to a group of males, so I headed to a long marble table and sat diagonally from two females and a male. A server immediately brought me wine, water, and a tray of fruits. Grateful, I downed half the water, welcoming the cool relief.

The females were divinities, commonly referred to as Adonai. They liked to think of themselves as gods or, at the very least, angels, but they were simply the ruling elite of Elysia who just happened to have bodies like six-foot-tall Norwegian supermodels, and egos the size of Mount Everest. And these two were no different.

“When did they start allowing humans in here?” one of the females asked the other, but loud enough for me to hear, which was her intent.

I gave her a syrupy smile, when what I really wanted to do was reach over the table and smack the living crap out of her. “Oh, I don’t know,” I answered, letting my aggravation show, “maybe since we live here and this is our planet.” I feigned a lightbulb moment. “Hey, I have an idea. If you don’t like humans, go the hell back home.”

I hated when the high ranks made the choice to move here and then did nothing but complain about Atlanta and humans.

The Adonai sniffed and left the table. Bitches.

“You’re human,” the male said, shifting to face me, one elbow propped on the table.

I turned my attention to him. “You’re a warlock.” Well, nymph by race, but warlock by trade.

Warlocks, the warrior sect of mages, were tougher, harder, and stricter than any other Elysian class. And when they weren’t wearing any clothes, like this one, identifying them was a no-brainer. He had the physique of a fighter and bore the mark of the warlock tattooed around his wrist—a black dragon swallowing its tail.

He lifted his water glass to give me a mock toast, emerald green eyes flashing beneath slashes of black eyebrows. The guy was dangerous looking, with thick bone structure and ebony hair that fell just below his jaw, making me think of green meadows and Celtic barbarians. For a moment, I thought I saw a green light illuminated around him, but that could’ve been the heat getting to me.

The warlock, grinning now, moved around the table and sat down next to me.

I held my breath. Don’t look down, Madigan. Don’t. Look. Down.

When a hot naked male sits next to you, the law of the universe dictates one’s eyes must turn south. It’s the nature of things. But I held out, easing my death grip from the water glass and focusing solely on his face. He had a very calm, knowing look about him, and his dark hair and the tattoos on his arms made him appear capable of handling any situation. It made me wonder what guise he took when not in his natural nymph form. Something sleek, dark, and predatory, no doubt.

“First time?”

I glanced around the room, wishing my cheeks weren’t burning. “Is it that obvious?”

A low laugh escaped him, and he leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “The brassiere straps kind of give you away.”

My lips formed a silent O. I shoved the straps back under the gown, feeling like I was in high school all over again, complete with the Barbie twins from hell and the humiliation of making an ass out of myself in front of a gorgeous guy. I finished off the water just for something to do. An awkward silence descended. I gave him a tight smile and then drummed my fingers on the table. He appeared far more comfortable than I did.

“What’s your name?” He picked a grape from the tray and placed it into his mouth.

The tongue curling over the grape and the lips that closed briefly around his finger made me forget the question. “Hmm?”

He laughed. “Your name? I’m assuming you have one.”

“Charlie. It’s Charlie.” I wondered if Hank was having better luck than me.

He held out his hand. “Aaron.”

On impulse, I slipped my hand into his. Immediately, a zing shot up my arm and sent my body humming, as though a switch had been turned on, making me feel more alive, more in tune somehow. A gasp flew through my lips, and I jerked my hand away, rubbing the tingling skin.

Aaron cocked his head, staring at me strangely. “Not a mage,” he said thoughtfully, trying to figure me out.

“No off-world anything,” I corrected, trying to shake off the weird sensation.

His brow furrowed, his demeanor changing from naked warlock to naked scholar. “No … there’s something. Are you in training?”

“Me. In training.” I gave a short laugh. “Yeah, the day Charbydon starts sprouting daisies is the day I’ll start crafting.” I held up my hands in a gesture of innocence. “No superpowers in this body.”

“You look familiar, too.”

Then it hit me, and I blurted out before I could stop myself, “You must know my sister, Bryn. She’s a member of your league.”

Damn, damn, damn!

God! Idiot, Charlie! I wanted to smack myself in the forehead, but instead I pinched the bridge of my nose, wanting to forget the whole thing, wanting to forget the entire day, in fact. I grabbed the wineglass and downed half. I’d just blown my cover.

“Ah. That’s it. I do know her,” Aaron was saying. I glanced over and saw his expression change briefly to chagrin before returning to its calm, slightly amused state. I raised my eyebrow in question. “Alas, she has no desire for the likes of me.”

“Poor you,” I said, fiddling with the wineglass, “I’m sure somehow you’ll cope.”

He shrugged, unable to argue with my prophetic words. “So, you’re the detective.”

The total imbecile, you mean. I never should’ve blurted out Bryn’s name. Just put me in a room with a gorgeous naked man and I lose every ounce of training I ever had.

Aaron’s gaze turned soft. He leaned in. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Right. This wasn’t a game. And if it was, I’d just lost big time.

“Really, Charlie,” he said.

Not that I truly believed him, but what else could I do but make the best of it? I faced him square-on. “Then you won’t mind answering a few questions.”

He sat back in the chair, stretched his legs out, and tucked his hands behind his head, displaying his nakedness in all its glory. “Shoot.”

Oh, boy. “Will you please sit up? How can I question you like that?” Amusement brightened his eyes, but he complied. I continued before I could think about the pose he’d just given me. “Who would you talk to if you wanted to get into Veritas?”

“Veritas?”

I lowered my voice. “I already know it exists, so you can cut the act. I want to know where they meet and when.”

Aaron finished off his water and waved a nymph over to refill the glass. Then he plucked a peach from the fruit basket and took a healthy bite. “I know of it, nothing more.”

“And what do you know about ash?”

“Is that what they’re calling it?”

“Yeah. You know anything about it?”

“Not a thing. I heard on the news it might be a virus of some kind.”

A groan escaped before I could help it. “No. It’s not a damned virus. It’s a narcotic, a drug.” I was getting tired of the media spin and the panic it was causing. Talk about responsible journalism. “Look, I know the drill in places like this. Spend enough money, and The Bath House will cater to anything and everything in its back rooms. Sex, drugs, you name it. Who would I see if I wanted to get a fix?”

“Maybe that’s true for some patrons,” he said slowly. “Not for me. Some of us do just come here to unwind.” He stared hard and unblinking at me until I acknowledged his statement. I dipped my head. “What goes on in the back rooms, I wouldn’t know. Neither would most you see here.”

“Fine. Good for you. But if you were into something like that, who would you talk to?”