To the peddler, I said, “I really like this one,” pointing to the gold bracelet that had caught my eye.
The heavyset woman smiled, and her chins squished as she nodded. “It’s a lovely piece. It’s the links that make it special. Go on, pick it up, take a look.”
Well, if she insisted. I carefully lifted the bracelet, ran my fingers over the chain. The craftsmanship was spectacular—the links had been masterfully wound together, giving it the illusion of being a braided golden rope.
“Pretty,” Paul said. Gorgeous was closer to the mark.
“That design’s very special,” the peddler said. “See how thick the links are? Strong bonds, promising a strong life.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I have this tendency to lose jewelry…”
“Also a strong clasp.”
“Yeah, but will it turn my wrist green?”
The woman smiled. “Not likely. It’s eighteen-karat gold.”
“How much?”
The woman tapped her chin as she looked at me, her eyes sparkling. Crap, I shouldn’t have said how much I liked this piece. She named a price.
“Allow me.” Paul pulled out his wallet.
I laughed softly, my breath misting in front of my face. “My White Knight in training.”
“What, I’m not your Cabin Boy anymore?”
“You can moonlight as a White Knight.”
“You’re too kind.” He winked at me as he handed money to the peddler.
Her eyebrow arched as Paul paid her, and with a rather knowing smile, she looked at Paul, then at me. “How long have you two been in love?”
“Forever and always,” I said, blowing a kiss to Paul. He shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face.
“You two are good together,” she said. “Here, allow me.”
She wrapped the bracelet around my left wrist, then fastened the tiny links. When she finished, the golden rope was snug, but not too tight, and the clasp holding it in place was cleverly hidden. “It looks wonderful on you.”
I kissed Paul and thanked the peddler, and then Paul and I started walking again to the train. Behind us, the woman called out, “Blessed be.”
Heh. To me, a blessing still felt like a curse. But I appreciated the intent.
Winding our way through roughly a million people between the ages of twenty-one and forty, Paul and I finally arrived at the bar on the second floor of Dance Hall Daze. Me, I didn’t want or need any alcohol beforehand; already I felt the draw of heavy synth as Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love” blared from the speakers. But my man needed some liquid courage before his feet found their groove. So I waited patiently against the bar, my head bopping with the beat as Paul knocked back a vodka shot and ordered another.
The smells of booze and sweat filled the dance hall, mingling to form a heady, sexy scent. Above me, screens silently begged for attention, each mutely depicting a music video that had nothing to do with the song pounding on the dance floor. People filled every crevice, clamoring to be heard over the music until their words merged with the melody and created a continuous buzz.
Bless me, how I loved to watch the humans dance. They celebrated life, practicing rituals of worship with their bodies as they moved and writhed and pranced. Dressed in their first impressions, they flashed smiles and offered promises of flesh as they gyrated. Some moved self-consciously, too wrapped up in their anxieties of the meat market to even think about letting themselves have a good time. Others lost themselves to the moment. Some flirted obviously. Others did so unintentionally. But all acknowledged the power of the music—the heavy backbeat that demanded attention, compelled movement.
I couldn’t wait a moment longer. Grabbing Paul’s arm, I pulled him onto the floor as I elbowed people out of my way. And then I hurled myself into the music—now the Bangles, telling us to “Walk Like An Egyptian.” I let the song wash over me, through me, let it command my body as I danced. My only self-imposed restriction was to make sure I kept my clothes on. Sometimes it was tough to remember that I wasn’t always a stripper.
Paul moved with me, his large feet glued to the floor as he worked against the beat. Heh, my White Knight was blissfully unaware of his tendency toward white man’s overbite. I’d never tell.
“Cutting in.”
I barely registered the words before some bimbo bumped me out of the way and wrapped her arms around Paul. Too surprised to react immediately, the music pounded in my head as I watched this blonde with legs up to her chin dance with a bemused-looking Paul. My Paul.
My now-I’m-happy-to-dance Paul Hamilton.
I shouted, “Hey!”
Paul either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Not his fault; she was practically falling all over him. It was all he could do to untangle her body from his own…not that he was trying all that hard to do so.
Unholy ire bubbled in my veins. That nasty bitch! Let’s see if that shit-eating grin would still be pasted on her face after I clawed her eyes out.
I took two steps toward them before someone clamped a hand onto my shoulder and spun me around. He was short, just a couple inches taller than me, but he radiated such presence that he seemed to loom over me. Like me, he wore all black. Like me, he had thick, curly hair, but his was short and sandy. Barrel-chested, bow-legged, he grinned down at me as if he’d just gotten a fabulous present.
“Dance with me.” His voice made it clear he’d had at least thirty drinks too many.
The last thing I wanted to do was dance with some drunken slob. I had to go skin me a blonde. “Maybe later, sweetie,” I said, shrugging out of his grip and turning away.
He snatched my hand and yanked me back to his side. Spinning, I lost my balance and crumpled against his torso.
“Come on, babes,” he said, all traces of the drunken slob gone. “Just one dance.”
Oh crap. “Daun?”
“In the flesh.”
And he was, too—no human possession this time. The incubus Daunuan himself was on the mortal coil, dressed in mortal form. And that meant only one thing: he was on a soul collection. That didn’t bode well.
I tried to pull away, but he held me tight. “You following me?”
“Heh. Believe it or not, I’m a working demon. That you’re here’s just a coincidence.”
Uh huh. Sure it was.
Daun grinned. “I had to break in one of your replacements. So we came here, scouting for new blood for Downstairs.”
“Replacement?” Before I’d run away from Hell, I’d lost my job in a burst of demonic outsourcing. “You’re here with a fucking angel?”
“Yep.”
“Who?”
“The flaxen sweetness dancing with your flesh puppet.”
That stopped me cold. The blond bitch who’d bumped me out of the way was an angel? Holy fuck in Heaven. I tried to find her and Paul on the dance floor, but it was too crowded…and Daun was holding me too closely. He smelled of silk and sweat and sex.
“Since the King replaced all female Seducers with her breed, it’s all been a huge buzzkill,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Sure, they look good enough to eat. But just try touching them. I’d get more action sucking on an iceberg. That’d be warmer, and at least it’d eventually melt. But not those holy snatches.”
I