Aurora doesn’t flinch at their teasing. She doesn’t blink.
She’s watching me. Not with mischief. Not with heat. Her eyes pin me in place. There’s a furrow in her brow, a tight pull to her mouth. She’s bracing for rejection. Like she thinks I’m going to tear her down. Like I’m still the person who gets to say what’s right for her.
I hate that she’s holding her breath on my opinion.
“You look…” I swallow, because my mouth’s gone dry. “Good.”
It’s not nearly enough, but it’s the only word I trust.
Her shoulders drop. The tightness in her face melts into something warmer.
She smiles.
I said the right thing. Thank the fae lords for that.
In a moment, she’s swept away by the others, disappearing behind the bar so they can teach her the basics. Before long, it’s time for me to open the doors and check the IDs of the masses lined up to get in.
The night rolls forward, and I lose sight of Aurora in the throng.
In less than an hour, the bar’s packed shoulder to shoulder. Sweat and perfume hang thick in the air. The line still wraps down the block, but we’ve reached capacity. I nod to the outside guard to hold it up. That’s when it hits—the familiar burst of powder-blue sparkle dust, an explosion of magic and flair.
Geanie.
He appears beneath the lantern-lit tree again, top hat low, coat tails trailing. His voice pours over the mic, silk wrapped around sin.
“Alright, you wicked little deviants. You know the drill.” His grin is all fangs and fanfare. “Drink deep. Touch soft. Sin hard.”
The crowd roars.
I cross my arms and lean against the wall to watch.
Snow’s up first—same routine, same flair. She smirks as she tosses bottles behind her back.
Then Ariel rolls into place, copper hair flashing fire as she spins in her chair, her tattooed arm steady as she pours shot after shot into a tower of glasses.
Geanie purrs into the mic. “And now…” He drags out the pause until the air buzzes. “Our newest temptation.”
He saunters a slow circle around the bar, his voice deepening with every syllable.
And then?—
Apinkspotlight cuts the bar in half.
Aurora’s boots connect with the wood in confident, measured strides. She lifts her arms.
Fae fuck me off a cliff into Kraken’s arse.
The sight slams into me, every bit as I feared it would. The impact drops lower and stiffens my cock as her shirt lifts dangerously high, threatening to reveal more than the heavy swell of flesh.
Her skirt is tight enough to tempt, short enough to be dangerous. Her thighs gleam beneath the torn fishnets, golden and strong.
Aurora spins slowly with a dancer's grace sharpened into a weapon. Her piercings flash. Her hands trail over her hips, then up, up, until they’re in her hair, fluffing, twisting, lifting. She bites her lip, and everyone in the placeloses it.
She’s a natural performer.
“She’s not here to flirt,” Geanie intones. “She’s here to set the room on fire and let you beg for the burn.”
She dips her body low into a roll, palms brushing the bar, then rises again, hips swaying. Her lips part. Her head tilts. She’sflirting with the entire room, and no one can resist her. They aren’t drawn to her curse. They can’t resist Aurora, herself.
