Page 27

She thought the spell had failed. She sat on her heels, scowling and cursing, furious that her magic had short-circuited on a basic locator ritual. But she has no fucking clue.

Yue Blackwood, the five-foot-three, silver-tongued, rattlesnake-tempered door witch of Midnight Embers, is my fated mate.

"Fuck," I choke out into the morning air, my wings beating in hard, ragged snaps above the French Quarter fog.

My head spins so violently I can barely keep altitude. Then, right on cue, a sudden jolt of heat sparks from my lower spine straight to my groin. Rhythmic, distinct tingles pulse across my skin. Yue is in her bedroom right now, using one of the stone dicks she stole off my wall. I groan, clenching my jaw as a phantom wave of friction rolls through my nervous system. My dick hardens painfully against my jeans, but my brain is rattling too hard to even enjoy the buzz.

My mate.

The realization lands like a slab of granite dropped onto a glass table. It explains every single uncharacteristic thing I've done for the past eight months. I don't fetch people food. I don't give a damn if anyone else in that club has water, or a jacket, or a safe walk to their car. But with Yue? I've spent eight months hovering near the front door like a stray dog begging for scraps, just to hear her tell me to go to hell.

My gargoyle recognized her the second I walked into Midnight Embers. It just took my stupid brain eight months to catch up.

I bank hard over the rooftops, catching a cool draft as the reality of my situation closes in around my throat.

The simplest thing in the world would be to fly to her house and tell her. But Yue would laugh in my face, call me a delusional stripper with an inflated ego, and ward her apartment with enough spells I’d never get within twenty feet of her again. Yue doesn’t trust men who smile too much, and she sure as hell wouldn’t trust a cosmic bond dropped in her lap by a gargoyle she claims to despise. To her, I'm just Ekon, and I only recently became that. She called me by my stage name exclusively for months, seeing me as a cocky stripper.

I don’t want her bound to me by magical obligation. I want her to choose me freely. There has to be a reason she doesn’t feel or see it. Hell, I didn’t feel or see it until a few minutes ago. I have to prove myself. I have to break down every wall she’s put up and make her choose me on her own terms.

I drop out of the sky, folding my wings at the last second and hitting the pavement in the alley behind my building. An idea hits me like a lightning strike.

Yue likes money. I need to keep my family off my back when they get here, but more than anything, I need a reason for Yue Blackwood to be glued to my side until she realizes she belongs with me. An idea, loose and crazy, flashes in my mind: Fake dating.

I pull out my phone, thumb flying over the screen before I can talk myself out of it. I hit the call button on Yue's name. It rings once.

"What do you want, Ekon?" Her voice comes through the speaker, slightly breathless.

I lean against the cool brick wall, forcing my voice into a calm, steady rhythm even as my heart hammers against my ribs. "I have a business proposition."

"It's eight in the morning. If this is about the salt on your shoes, buy new ones."

"It's not about the salt," I say smoothly. "It's about my parents."

A heavy sigh echoes on the line. "I told you already, I'm working on the locator spell. My magic has been fucking up, but I'll try again tomorrow."

"You don't have time to keep trying, Yue. You know the deadline. My mother lands in New Orleans in two weeks, and she already has an arranged date waiting for me. If I don't show up with a mate, my trust disappears."

She snaps, "What does that have to do with calling me right now?"

"I want you to be my mate."

Silence spills from the line.

"Excuse me?" she says, her tone dropping.

"Fake mate," I clarify quickly, reining in the desperate growl in my chest. "Just until my parents leave town. You pose as my fated mate, and we put on a show whenever my mother is watching. In exchange, I’ll pay you."

"You already owe me for the locator spell. I just haven’t thought of the fee yet, but I know you can afford it.”

“I’ll pay whatever you want.” All my money will be hers anyway, so it’s useless to avoid it. She could have it all today if she agreed to be mine.

“Really?" she asks, suspicion dripping from every syllable.

"Of course. Your fee for the locator spell is one-fifty," I say, leaning into the mic. "How about I add a few zeros to that number?”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Also, I'll add another two hundred thousand on top of it in cash. It’ll be a direct transfer the minute my parents board their flight back to Ohio. We just have to fake it until they leave."