Page 1 of Beauty At Stake
Chapter One
The scent of perfume and cologne rode the cold drafts blowing down from the air conditioning ducts. Music blared. No escaping it. Within the darkness, bodies writhed, many of them wearing scanty outfits that would have gotten them arrested on the street. Or at least propositioned. Then again, we were in Thailand. While technically illegal, the authorities largely overlooked prostitution. And with the heat, wearing less clothing wasn't just accepted, it was necessary. There were jiggling breasts everywhere I looked, and even the men had their shirts unbuttoned to their waists, their jeans tight enough to betray their religion.
Just another night in a Thai vampire club.
“Hold back, Twilight,” Killian, my husband and fellow ambassador, spoke into my ear as he took my hand. “We don't want to get too close.”
He was right, so I switched direction and took us into the undulating, hormone-drenched flesh pit known as the dance floor. I had more clothing on than most of the women there, but I blended into the Goth theme with my black mini skirt and glittering tank top. I had my hair up in a ponytail but left the strip of ombré purple at my left temple to dangle down my bodice. My breasts had finally gone back to their normal size—something Killian lamented. I was glad to be done withbreastfeeding and lugging those things around. To celebrate, I'd left my bra at home—a minor consolation for Kill.
Killian had on jeans and a T-shirt, looking more out of place than me. But he also wore his “I don't give a fuck” attitude that helped him fit in anywhere. Grinning, my husband slid up against me, his hands and stare going to my hips. The dim lights turned his bright auburn hair into dark brown and hid the slit pupils in his snake eyes. Not that those eyes would have lifted many brows in a club like Bloodsuckers. Contacts abounded there. I'd seen everything from fully black sclera to red demon eyes. Every night was Halloween at Bloodsuckers. Frankly, I found such a place in Thailand surprising. But a lot of things had changed since Angels came out of the supernatural closet. Or were pushed out, rather.
What might have garnered attention were the twin swords Killian had strapped on his back. But those swords, along with the midnight-black Demon blade on my hip, were hidden under a glamour. It's good to be a fairy. And more.
Kill, my only husband with human blood (and yes, I had more than one husband—take that, Mormons!), ground against me in time with the primal beat. Bodies closed in around us, all of them pumping and pulsing like us, and I felt cocooned in flesh. Kinda sexy. Most times, when I was wrapped in bodies, it wasn't by strangers.
I lifted my head to brush my lips over Kill's. He was over six feet tall, almost as big as my Unseelie husband, Raza, and that was saying a lot. Especially since Kill was born a Caster Witch, not a Dragon-Djinn. So Killian had to bend to reach me. But that never bothered him.
Just as we deepened our kiss, another member of our team joined us. I flinched when I felt the Devil's hands on my hips, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. And then came the light touch of his lips, brushing over my shoulder. A trim but muscular body pressed against my back, the heat of it reminding me of damnation. I'd never be damned. My soul, and Star's for that matter, was pure—impossible to stain. And yet, I couldn't help feeling damned anyway.
Astaroth moved with Killian and me to the music, his body far more graceful than Kill's. I felt those sexy movements even if I couldn't see them. In my mind, I saw what others might—a woman flush with desire, writhing between two men who were so opposite from each other, they looked as if they wouldn't share a drink, much less a woman. But magic had drawn us together. Magic and the Gods.
Star drew his hands up my back, sliding them beneath the hem of my top so that we were flesh-to-flesh. I gasped into Killian's mouth as Star's light touch drifted forward, edging along the undersides of my breasts. My body tensed, waiting and hoping for more.
“I know you're not about to fondle my wife's breasts,” Killian drawled against my lips. “Right, Star?”
Kill had taken to using my nickname for the King of Hell after he and Astaroth had bonded. But that didn't mean he'd allow Star more than the agreed-upon touching. Not even knowing what Astaroth was going through. And no, he wasn't actually the Devil. That moniker had belonged to the last King of Hell. But it was so fun to use it with Star that I couldn't stop.
Star released a puff of breath on my neck. “My apologies. This place. It made me forget myself.” His hands dropped to wrap around my waist. “Is this allowed?”
“Yeah, that's okay, I guess.” Kill glanced down, then refocused on me.
I should have said something. At the very least, I should have protested the way they bargained over me like property. But I couldn't catch my breath. I'd like to say it was Kill's presence that constricted my lungs, but that would be a lie. Oh, Killian would always make my heart race, but Star had a slight advantage. An advantage called Anu.
I glanced back at the striking King of Hell. If Killian was underdressed for the club, Star was overdressed. But he wasn't the kind of man who dressed down. He wore what he wanted to, no matter the occasion, and expected the world to adjust to suit him. To suit his suits. That was his preferred mode of dress—elegant, classic, and tailored. A gentleman of Hell. It was a little badass and very sexy.
But it was all good. I could control the urge to reach up behind me and stroke Star's short, glossy black hair. No problem. His golden-brown skin did not tempt me in the least, and his trim physique wasn't the perfect complement to Killian's bulk. Nope. I found Star too refined for my tastes. Too elegant. He was almost graceful in his movements and lean like a jungle cat. That might be some woman's ideal—all right, a lot of them—but it wasn't mine. I didn't care how fine Star looked in his tailored suits or how he never appeared casual. I'd once seen him dressed in combat clothes and he still carried himself in a way that made the cammies classy. Even Tiernan couldn't pull off camouflage like Star.
Tiernan! Yes, focus on your lean, lithe Seelie husband, Seren! His body was better than Star's. By far.
Astaroth's acid-green eyes met mine over my shoulder. Beautiful, especially with those inner rings of gold, but they had no power over me. They paled when compared to Tiernan's silver eyes—metallic silver with a ring of black to define them. So beautiful. No, Star couldn't temp me with those eyes. Not even when he looked at me as he did now, with the gold in those green irises glowing, full of lust and tempered with longing that made his desire seem holy. It sort of was when you considered its origin.
But we would not give in to that desire.
That was the whole point of Star being there. The King of Hell didn't normally accompany the Ambassadors of the Councils, the Coven, and the Casters on their missions. But it had finally come out that Anu was messing with Astaroth and me, ramping up the desire between us to annoying levels—more than annoying for Star. He'd been trying to handle it alone, and he'd been failing. Miserably. Suppressing god-given lust can lead to anxiety, outbursts, abdominal pain, and constipation. All right, I tacked on the last one because it sounded like a drug commercial. Kinda appropriate because I'd become a sorta drug to Star. Sure. Just to Star. The addiction was one-way. That's the story I'm sticking to.
I caught my breath at last and pulled on a mask of professionalism. “Focus.”
“Oh, I am,” Star whispered, but even with the music pounding around us, I heard him.
“Just enough to take the edge off,” Killian said. “My brothers are trusting me to keep things between you two in check.”
“Just one kiss,” Star murmured as he angled around toward my front. “Then I can focus.”
“No kissing!” Killian yanked me away from Star.
“And no causing a scene!” I hissed at both men. Then I grabbed Star and pulled him against me. “Just dance. We're supposed to be a thruple.”
Why had we gone with that cover? Because it gave Star a reason to touch me. And he needed to touch me. If he didn't, he'd lose his damn mind. The last thing Hell needed was another crazy king.
