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“Maybe I don’t want you to stop?”

His hand skimmed my jaw, tilted my chin up, and everyone in the bar must have seen how there was nothing separating us, and how he peered into my eyes. Tension sizzled between us. A need we both had, that threatened to boil over. “I didn’t think that would work.”

As though I was just another trick to turn, another man to screw, another hill to climb.

“And there it is—the doubt in your eyes dashing my dreams.” He laughed and dropped back onto the stool. “So close.” He very clearly adjusted his pants, bared his teeth in a snarl at his drink, then downed the contents of the glass.

The crazy thing was, I wanted him—was hard for him—wanted nothing more than for him to follow me to my room, where we’d taste each other as only lovers could. But Zee was . . . Zee. And I was just me. And a lie. It would be wrong.

He pushed from the stool. “I’ll see you in the morning, Adam.” He headed for the bar door, waylaid by a few new fans who told him how wonderful, beautiful, fabulous he was. I should have been saying those things. I believed them. So, why wasn’t I?

“Your lover’s leaving,” Tom reminded me.

He was. And if I let him, we were destined to do this dance around each other forever. Was my head getting in the way of my heart? Did it even matter? “Zee, wait.” I hurried out the door after him, closing the distance across the lobby, and dashed into the elevator just as the doors closed.

He arched an eyebrow. “We have to stop fucking meeting like this or people will⁠—”

I kissed him. It happened so fast. One second I was watching his soft, glossy mouth form words, and then I was kissing it, with my hands on his face and my body hard against his. He froze for half a heartbeat, then shattered, and shoved me against the elevator panel, kissing my breath away.

He tasted better than I’d imagined, sweet and spicy. I wanted more of him, wanted all of him. Wanted to devour him. Now. Immediately. In this elevator. I wanted to fuck and be fucked. His hand swept up my waist, dragging my shirt with it, exposing my middle to cooler air. A thousand little voices said this was wrong, but that also made it so right. I just wanted one thing, one moment in time to call my own, to indulge, to be free. And I wanted it with Zee’s hands on me, his mouth scorching my skin, his nails dragging, cock deep inside. Oh mercy⁠—

The elevator wires clanged, the carriage jolted, startling both of us. The carriage clattered on but Zee broke the kiss, bumping his forehead against mine, his face oddly solemn despite his smile. I had his waistcoat scrunched in my fists and a leg around his. We’d only been this close once before—in my bed, that very morning. Had this collision been inevitable?

“You don’t want this,” he said.

“I do,” I mewed. I wanted it so bad I was about to tear myself apart to get him. In three seconds I’d beg, and neither of us wanted to see that.

His brilliant purple eyes sparkled. “Did you want to fuck me in this elevator before I pole-danced?”

“No, but that was then.” And why were we talking? Why weren’t we tearing our clothes off? It had been so long since I’d had someone to hold, someone to pleasure, I was going to lose my damned mind if I didn’t get him in all the ways my sex-starved body craved.

He dragged a nail down my cheek. “You’re human, and I just put on a show designed to enthrall every human watching, including you.”

“What?” I freed his waistcoat. “You can’t enthrall me. The wards⁠—”

“The wards have loopholes.” He stepped back, and his wings folded behind him, making him smaller. “Consent.” He swept a hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders, his body a symphony of masculinity. “They activate if the intention is to cause harm. I’m not harming anyone, and they were all there of their own free will, watching me because they wanted to. I’m just putting on a show, to get off on their thrill—and yours. I’m sorry. I . . . It’s fucked. I’m fucked up. I should have warned you. I didn’t, because I’m a selfish fucking asshole and I wanted to taste your lust—which is a thousand times hotter than I thought it would be, like a fucking drug I’m a slave for—and now I feel like shit for making you want me. Which never happens, by the fucking way. I don’t get regretful, and I don’t do guilt. I don’t do . . . friends. So it’s best you go to your room, I go to mine, and tomorrow we’ll pretend this did not fucking happen.”

The elevator doors rumbled open and he couldn’t have left any quicker if he’d poofed away.

I stared after him, buzzing but numb, except for my ragingly hard dick.

The elevator door tried to close. I thrust out a hand, holding it back, and watched my Zodiac—body buzzing, heart pounding, cock hard—until he turned the hallway corner and vanished.

He was wrong. Wrong about everything. But mostly, wrong about me. He couldn’t enthrall me. It wasn’t possible.

Because I wasn’t human, and never had been.

And he could never know.

CHAPTER 7

Zee didn’t join me for breakfast. He was absent all day, and when night fell again, he wasn’t in the attic, or the bar, much to the dismay of the guests, who had been hoping for a second outing of the pole-dancing Zodiac. Was it wrong that he’d fed from their admiration? Probably a bit, but he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Clearly, I wasn’t the only one with hang-ups about all this—and us. He probably needed time to work through it all. And maybe it was for the best. We’d been working side by side for weeks, trying to get the hotel ready. A break would do us good.

I asked after Claymore again, and this time, when it became clear nobody had seen our head of security for two days, it appeared I might have a new problem. There was a chance Claymore had simply gone out, but he hadn’t been due any time off until the weekend, and I couldn’t protect anyone outside the hotel.

My gut was telling me Claymore’s absence had something to do with the dead Mr. Reese, who we’d found in Reynard’s room. Nobody had seen Claymore since the night before opening day. That timing couldn’t be a coincidence.