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Chapter Seven
Paramour was a posh dance club in the human-only district. Mikal wasn’t a bigot, but his father was. His only stipulation for investment in his son’s business venture was that the club cater to the human population.
There were no laws preventing a human or Morgon from entering any store, club, or business they wanted. But just because it was legal, didn’t mean you were welcome.
These were my thoughts as I strolled toward Paramour’s entrance, glancing around for my Morgon partner. He materialized out of the shadows as I passed an alley. I started. “Don’t do that,” I hissed.
“Jumpy, Kittycat?”
Damn, the man had moves. No one his size should be able to come and go in such quiet stealth, then appear suddenly with his power-snapping aura. He was like a cool breeze one second and a lightning storm the next.
“Stop calling me that.”
Covered in black from head to foot, he looked like night itself. His eyes shimmered a silver flame in the dark, a sign of his dragon lurking.
I cleared my throat. “I didn’t tell the club owner, Mikal, that we were coming. But we’re old friends, so I know he won’t mind, but…”
He shifted forward out of the shadows.
I glanced at his vast wings. Even folded against his back, they made quite an impression. “Well, you may not receive a warm welcome in this place. Are you sure you don’t want to wait here for me?”
His mouth twitched on one side. “Are you concerned about my feelings?” Though his features remained cold and passive, he was definitely laughing at me. “Touching, but no need. I’m a big boy.”
A seriously big boy. The very reason I wanted him to stay outside. Gladium was accustomed to the Morgons who closed business deals and merged contracts by daylight behind corporate desks. But this was not that kind of Morgon. Kol was the reason some humans still veered to the other side of the street, the reason some double-checked their alarms at night, the reason some would never accept the desegregation laws put in place. An air of another world hovered around Kol, a mystique of aggression, strength, and an ancient beast lingering in his blood.
Realizing there was nothing I could do to camouflage or soften any of this, nor could I dissuade him from coming in with me, I shrugged. “Let’s go then.”
I walked across the street to the double-doored entrance. I wasn’t so concerned about his feelings as I was my own. Humans could be cruel. I feared some ignorant ass would make me ashamed of my own race, as had happened numerous times before.
“Hey, Moira. Long time, no see.” The burly bouncer grinned. His face fell as soon as he saw Kol behind me.
“Hi, Mitchell. Mikal’s in tonight, right?”
He nodded, staring, but didn’t say another word as we brushed past him.
At nine o’clock, it was already a crush. Lights and music pumped a hard beat. Bodies pressed in toward back-lit bars, others grinding on the dance floor. Fast techno-music vibrated through my chest, people speaking with their bodies more than their mouths. In one corner, a couple made out, while the crowd milled around them. No surprise. This was a pick-up and take-home place, not a quiet pub for bonding with friends.
Funny that the club didn’t seem to fit Mikal. Right after we broke up, he opened Paramour with all of its glittering lights and fast, hard music, attracting fast, hard clientele. There was a need on this end of town, so his gamble paid off, and apparently, was still paying off. All the same, it still didn’t match Mikal’s personality. I knew he longed for something quieter, but then again, maybe he needed the distraction of loud music and bright lights. Did he take the glitzy-club route as some sort of rebellion because I’d broken up with him? He knew I wasn’t a fan of this sort of place. Not my thing.
I hadn’t been here since the opening premiere but knew where Mikal would be. Peering up to the second floor, I glimpsed Mikal in his VIP section. I tapped Kol’s arm and gestured toward the second floor. He nodded. Kol’s chest brushed my shoulders as we funneled through the crowd to the stairwell. His hand was at my lower back, guiding me forward. In a Morgon club, he could fly straight up to the next floor. But not here. Though dark, we still attracted a few stares. One girl yipped and spilled her drink down her low-cut dress.
On the second floor, I bee-lined for the white sofa that extended in a perfect square near the balcony. Mikal leaned toward a pretty brunette in a red dress, his sandy-blond hair falling forward, his warm smile charming the girl into a trance-like stupor. As if he sensed me, he glanced up, the easy smile slipping. I caught the twinge of pain in his eyes before he masked it. He stood to greet us and wrapped me in an embrace, brushing a light kiss on my cheek. “This is a surprise.”
I smiled as best I could. “How are you?”
“Good.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “You?”
“Good.” I nodded.
And so here we were again, stuck in nondescript, awkward dialogue. I’d tried to engage him a few times when he was out somewhere with my brother. It was always the same—polite isolation from anything real or important. I hated that we couldn’t get past our past.
His gaze flicked over my shoulder.
“Mikal, this is Kol Moonring.”
Mikal offered his hand to shake in a civil gesture, but I caught the strain on his face. Kol’s broad, long-fingered hand, with scars along the knuckles, engulfed Mikal’s well-manicured one. Mikal was clear summer and warm sunshine whereas Kol was stormy winter and biting wind.
“We’re actually here on business. Kol and I are investigating the murder of Maxine Mendale.”
