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Tom Collins saw my face and poured my usual before I’d reached him. I sat, and downed the whiskey in a single, burning gulp.

“What did he say?” Zee asked, appearing to my left.

“Give me a minute.” I just needed a few moments to calm my racing heart. Tom refilled my glass, and down it went. As I held it out for a third time, Zee covered it with his hand and shook his head at Tom, sending the bartender away.

“Do we have a detective problem?” he asked quietly. When Zee said anything quietly, it was usually a veiled threat. I knew what he was asking, but the last thing we needed was more murders.

“No. It’s fine.” The detective hadn’t had any evidence, and hadn’t arrested anyone. “He’s just poking around, seeing what falls out.”

Zee removed his hand from my glass and leaned back, propping both elbows on the bar behind him. We stayed there, quietly, side by side, as the bar buzzed around us. When it mattered, Zee knew when to be quiet. Lust demons were attuned to the emotions of others, since that was how he fed. He could probably taste my anxiety.

Part of me wanted to drink whiskey until all my thoughts blurred. But that was just another way of hiding. And hiding was all I seemed to be good at . . .

Hiding in the spotlight.

“Are we doing the right thing?” I asked, thinking aloud.

Zee looked over. “Meaning?”

“The hotel. All of it. Am I crazy?”

He snorted. “I thought you were when you stopped that night instead of walking over me like everyone else. Stupid human in the wrong place, wrong fucking time, I thought. But here we are, and I like the view, don’t you?”

Twisting on the stool, I followed his gaze. The jukebox was playing. People—Lost Ones and humans alike—were laughing, drinking, chatting. A couple of demons, a gargoyle with a slim, reedy fae leaning against him, the two of them clearly an item. A few unidentified Lost Ones, not willing to drop their glamor. Nobody was fighting, but more importantly, nobody was scared, and they all wanted to be here. In this safe place.

Maybe we really were doing a good thing, and maybe it was worth it.

Zee’s smile grew, showing a hint of sharp teeth.

I smiled back, glad he was here. I couldn’t have opened the hotel alone. “Oh uh, by the way, if anyone asks, you were with me last night.”

His eyebrows pinched together and his smile tilted sideways. “I know.”

“All night.”

He held my gaze, assessing what I was really asking. I was his alibi, and he was mine.

“Most everyone in the lobby heard, so they all think we’re . . . you know . . .”

“Fucking? Say it, you can say it, you won’t combust. Say fuck.” He pinched his lower lip between his teeth and whined, “Please.”

“In a relationship,” I said, each word perfectly precise.

“Kitten, I’ve been in a relationship with you since you scraped me off the fucking sidewalk.”

Which he clearly believed was fine, but wasn’t. “Zee, c’mon, you don’t owe me anything for helping you. We made a deal to get this hotel up and running—we’re equals.”

“Call it what you like, but I owe you a life debt, and until it’s paid you own me. I’m just waiting for you to wake up and realize it.”

A life debt? That sounded . . . serious. “That’s not what this is.”

Zee waved Tom over. “Lover, all demons are owned. If it’s not you, then it’s . . .” He trailed off, glanced over to see if I’d noticed, then laughed into the drink Tom had handed him “Never mind. Wanna see me fuck a pole?”

I spluttered a laugh. “You are keeping your clothes on, right? And you’re not actually . . . going to . . .” I waved a hand, grasping at words. “Have intercourse with a pole?”

“Maybe. It’ll be fucking exciting while we find out.”

He wasn’t . . . I didn’t think so, anyway. Hopefully not. We had a reputation to uphold, and alright, it wasn’t a great reputation, but we had some standards. Really low ones.