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There never is.
“Did your mystery man kiss you senseless again?” Atlas grips my hips, pulling me until I’m flush with his front.
“I’m not sure.” I glance back to the corner. “I think so. I believe he was injured by a friend, or for a friend?”
It’s frustrating. It’s always fuzzy once I’m awake.
“Should I be jealous?” He chuckles a low, throaty sound.
“No, you know that,” I mumble sleepily.
“It seems like he’s getting at least as much affection as I am.” He quirks a brow. “Orcs aren’t great at sharing,” he reminds me, nuzzling his cheek to mine. “But you’d be surprised at the things I’d do to keep you. I’m grateful he watches over you when I can’t.”
“He’s likely a figment of my imagination,” I murmur, snuggling deeper into my orc’s chest. His woodsy scent floods my nostrils as he holds me close. His heart beats under my ear, and I’m sure I could be happy with him for several lifetimes.
Or, quite possibly, an eternity.
ChapterSeven
Aline
Atlas is gone the next morning when I wake up. It’s probably afternoon, but it’s my morning, so it counts.
I stumble into the kitchen, feeling weaker than normal. Electricity and appliances are terrible for a fae’s health. However, they do successfully dampen my magic, so I don’t avoid them like most of my kind.
I set the kettle to warm and open the curtains of the kitchen window.
Charity wasn’t home last night when we made it in, but that’s not unheard of. It’s easier for Mrs. Segar to watch Veryn as he sleeps, meaning Charity tends to work late nights.
I can’t see her car from here to be sure, but I truly don’t think she’s home. We often enjoy a cup of tea while Veryn runs around the tree-lined courtyard.
The kettle squeals, and I jump at the unexpected noise. Spinning around to grab it, my eyes bug when I catch the numbers on the clock, realizing exactly how late in the day it is.
“Holy shit.” I head to cut off the burner as I tighten the strings on my robe.
No wonder Charity isn’t home.
I slept through our early afternoon ritual.
I rush through making my drink and head into my bedroom to get ready for the day.
* * *
The Monster’s Den has been in business for nearly a hundred years. In the beginning, it was only the hotel, which Dread’s mom, Octavia, converted into The Den. It’s a lovely mess of sex and debauchery, but it gives monsters a place to feel safe just being themselves.
Once Octavia expanded the business, she bought the buildings on either side and opened the bar. The upper floors are gambling rooms, smoking areas, and weirdly, a conference room that rarely gets rented out. Maybe three or four times a year, but it comes with free security to keep the negotiating parties from killing each other.
The entire area has that rundown warehouse district feel, and the brick passageways that lead through all three of the main buildings are old.
The Den is on the far right, the middle is the miscellaneous building, and Venom, the nightclub, is on the left—at least, if you’re looking at it from the employee parking lot. The way that building is built, Venom turns the corner with the storefronts.
Basically, it’s a maze if you don’t know which corridor to take. Most of the employees don’t bother, since it’s easier to walk outside and back in, or depending on where they’re going, they can take the public hallways.
I go that way sometimes, but both Venom and The Monster’s Den cater to a lot of out-of-town guests. Ones I try to avoid, when possible. Many monsters live outside the sanctuary ward and come to visit to be able to fully relax without their glamor.
As I grab for the door into Venom, I keep the stack of papers shoved under my arm.
It’s late, but even from the storeroom, I can hear how busy it’s going to be. I pull back my shoulders and open the door into the club. The hallway I step into is near the restrooms and the emergency exit.
