Len closed the door and turned to me. “Okay, Zorah. As much of a relief as it is to see you safe and sound... what the actual hell?”
I glanced at Rans. “Um... how about some quick introductions first? Rans, this is my friend Len from the restaurant. In addition to grilling the best steaks of any cook at AJ’s, he also made sure I got home safely the day Caspian first showed up and started harassing me. Len, this is Rans. He makes a decent sandwich, and he helped me escape when Caspian tried to kidnap me a couple of days after he came into the restaurant.”
There. That was fairly succinct, wasn’t it?
Len stared at me like I was a few cards short of a full deck—which probably wasn’t a stretch at this point. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Tristan, this is Zorah, one of the waitresses from AJ’s. Zorah, Tristan.”
I shook Tristan’s hand despite his clear bemusement, and dredged up a limp smile for him. “Hi. In case Len didn’t pass on my message before, you’re one lucky dude. Your boyfriend is awesome.”
Rans made a noise that might have been stifled amusement. I kicked sideways at his shin, remembering at the last moment to keep the boot’s vicious stiletto heel angled away.
“Nice to... er, meet you both,” Tristan said, looking very much like someone who hadn’t expected to meet his boyfriend’s crazy ex-coworker at a BDSM club. I supposed I couldn’t exactly blame him for that.
Len’s attention was back on me, though. “All right. Enough with the introductions. The last time I heard from you, police were staking out your house and interrogating everyone at the restaurant about you, Zorah. What the fuck happened?”
Rans shot me a sidelong look, and I was positive there was a warning behind it. I took a deep breath, aware that even though I liked Len and considered him one of the very few people I could call a friend, it would be the height of stupidity to start blabbing about vampires and demons and faeries.
“Okay...” I began uncertainly. “I warned you it was a long story. So, you remember Creepy Ponytail Guy from the restaurant?”
“I’m hardly likely to forget him,” Len said, still looking at me like he thought a straightjacket might be necessary at some point. Lucky for him, there was probably one available somewhere in this place.
“Well, the part you don’t know is that he was after me because of... because of my mother,” I continued, stumbling over the words. “My mom was Sasha Bright, which might or might not mean anything to you. But she was running for US Senate twenty years ago when she was assassinated during a campaign speech.”
Len looked blank.
“You were just a kid,” I hurried on. “I mean, I was just a kid, too—so there’s no reason you would have heard about it.”
It was Tristan who spoke. “No, I think I remember hearing about that in college during a poly-sci class, actually.” He frowned. “The guy was some kind of whackjob, right? Killed himself in prison afterward?”
“That’s the one,” I said, relieved to have a bit of outside support for my fantastical-sounding story.
Len was frowning now, too. “And... that was somehow related to what happened with the police a few weeks ago?”
I nodded. “It was. That creepy guy at the restaurant? He’s a government official. But he’s corrupt. My mom’s murder wasn’t a random act, and he was after me for the same reason people were after her all those years ago.”
“This is nuts, Zorah,” Len said. There was no accusation in his voice, though—only continued confusion. “You know that, surely?”
“You’re telling me,” I muttered, then cleared my throat. “Anyway, I... uh... ended up getting dragged before a... judge...” Because, I mean, a Magistrate was basically a judge, right? “... and after some deliberation, the charges against me were dropped. So here I am.”
Rans tilted an approving eyebrow at me, as though to say, not bad for improv.
Len’s gray gaze bored into me. “So... it’s all taken care of now? You’re safe?”
I tried on a smile, but it must have looked strained and bitter.
“I wouldn’t quite go that far. As long as people have an issue with my family and what we stand for, there’s no guarantee they won’t decide to come after me again.” I took a deep breath and let it flow out in a sigh. “But someone pretty smart told me once that if I didn’t want to spend the next several decades hiding away in the shadows, I needed to step up and reclaim my life. So here I am.”
Len blinked. “Here you are... in a fetish club.”
Rans snorted.
I could feel my cheeks blazing, but I held Len’s gaze. “Says the gay guy with the purple fauxhawk and facial piercings... who’s also in a fetish club.”
Tristan laughed. “She’s got you there, man.”
I fumbled for some kind of explanation that didn’t include the words succubus or sex energy. “Okay, yeah, I admit I’m new to the, er, lifestyle. Though Rans isn’t. It just... sounded like fun, and we figured it would be a good way to blow off steam after the craziness of the past couple of weeks.”
Len stared hard at me for another beat, then he consciously relaxed his shoulders and shrugged. “Hey, not judging you. I just wouldn’t have pegged you as the type.”
I stopped myself from fidgeting in place and straightened my spine. “So, what about you? Been doing this kind of thing long?”
Len tipped his head in a dismissive gesture. “Eh. For a few years, off and on. Tris and I met at this place, actually. He likes the vibe, and I like shibari, so it works for us.”
“Shibari?” I asked.
“Rope work,” Rans clarified. “Like what we were watching earlier.”
I nodded. “Got it. Cool.”
Tristan smiled at us. “Planning on popping your BDSM cherry