Chapter 1
Kye Rivers bypassed the velvet rope that corralled the line of hopeful people waiting to get into the Witch’s Brew.
Too bad the handful of Mundane humans didn’t know this exclusive Miami nightclub allowed in only Deuces like her.
Of course, they knew nothing at all about Crescents, humans who carried the DNA of gods and angels.
And that was for the best. Kye traded a greeting with the bouncer and entered the jam-packed cave of a building that was throbbing with music.
Sarai raced over, her serving tray tucked under her arm. “Kye, wait ’til you see the new bartender! His name is Kasabian. He’s totally hot. And”—she gave her the wait for it grin—“he’s Caido.”
“No way. Has to be a Deuce illusion, like his gimmick.”
“He couldn’t hold it for two whole shifts.
Plus, he’s healed a couple of people with some kind of angel-essence thing.
” Sarai cracked her gum. “There was quite a stir at first, as you can imagine. The women were all gaga, and the guys were all ‘why’s the pretty boy Caido working here?’ But people are starting to warm to him.
He’s nice. Not snotty like Tad or slutty like Donnie was.
He’s politely turned down overtures from every woman who’s come on to him. ”
Kye’s gaze went right to the new face behind the bar.
The gorgeous new face. Red lights within the thick glass counter cast a glow over the angles of his cheeks and the gloss of his dark-blond hair.
Kasabian might be new to the Brew, but he was clearly not new to tending.
He flipped bottles, poured, and returned them to their places with the speed and grace of a juggler.
And by his relaxed smile, he was enjoying it.
So were the people watching him in rapt awe.
Of course, that could be the Thrall, the way Caidos could hypnotize with their preternatural beauty.
Because of what Kye did for a living, she’d learned to shut out that allure.
But damn, fascination stirred deep in her chest. Whoa, cut that shit out.
Kye shrugged. “Just another gorgeous Caido.” She pushed her long, blond hair back over her shoulder. “Think I’ll go order a drink.”
“Hah. You are so checking him out—” Sarai’s teasing smile disappeared. She gripped her arm, the mist in her eyes stirring like storm-tossed clouds. “Don’t do it!”
“You’re freaking over me ordering a drink from the guy?”
Sarai shook her head. “I’m feeling a lot more than a drink. First, I sensed that there could be something good and hot and sexy between the two of you. Which was crazy enough. Then I got a really bad feeling. As in death and destruction.”
Sarai came from a long line of Chinese women with a gift for seeing the future.
Kye splayed her hand on her chest. “Uh, remember who you’re talking to. The girl you’re always giving a hard time because I never date.”
“Remember who’s doing the talking. I had a feeling about that irl? guy Katie was dating, and he ended up being a drug dealer. I warned Rhea that her brakes were going to give out, and the mechanic said they wouldn’t have lasted another day.”
“I don’t doubt your forecasts. Maybe something good and bad would come from getting involved, but I’d never get romantic with a Brew employee.” She patted Sarai’s hand. “I need to meet him. He’s in my world, after all.” The Brew was her second home, the employees a sort of family.
But yeah, it was odd that a Caido was working at a Deuce nightclub.
All three classes of Crescents traced their ancestry to a mysterious island in the Bermuda Triangle, where humans had procreated with gods, but none intermingled much socially.
Caidos, who were descended from fallen angels, were downright reclusive.
Kasabian looked up, zoning right in on her as she approached. His hazel-green eyes held the Caido glitter, like sun on early morning frost. Each of the three classes held their unique magick in their eyes, visible only to other Crescents.
He watched her, even as he shoved limes into two Coronas and pushed them across the counter to the men waiting for them. “What can I get you, love?” he asked when she reached him. “Love”? What kind of Caido was this guy?
The smooth edge of the counter pressed into her palms as she leaned forward. “Know how to make the Whis-Kye?” she called out over the sensual beat of Katy Perry’s “E.T.”
His mouth curved into a heart-stopping smile as his gaze lingered on the patch on her black leather jacket that read no does not mean convince me.
“You must be Kye. Before he left, Donnie filled me in on the special customers. From what I’ve heard, you’re quite special. ” He held out his hand. “I’m Kasabian.”
A strange twist of anticipation and fear overtook her, but she slid her hand into his—and instantly knew why.
A jolt like a low-level electrical surge zinged through her.
She pulled her hand back, heat flushing over her.
He was watching her as though he expected her to react, so she did her best not to.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, though nice wasn’t exactly the right word.
He turned and pulled down the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black whiskey with one hand, a highball glass in another. There were no available stools, but the couple beside her shifted so she could settle in more comfortably. Which she shouldn’t do. Which she did.
Kasabian mixed the drink Mike, the club’s owner, had concocted for her years ago. Whiskey, Mountain Dew, and a splash of lime, just enough liquor for a tiny buzz. He snuggled a wedge of orange on the rim and slid the glass in front of her. Someone farther down the bar flagged him down.
“Don’t go,” he said, moving away to take an order.
Not an order or a request. She didn’t like being told what to do, and yet she stayed.
He made three different drinks and pulled one draft.
His tight black shirt showed off a physique he got doing more than tossing bottles.
Not bodybuilder thick, but lean and well defined.
He returned to her. “Mike told me you’re a Zensu Deuce, that you pick up people’s sensual pathos and fix them. He thinks you’re a goddess.”
Embarrassment stung her cheeks but warmed her heart. That was a lot more appreciation than she’d ever gotten from her own family over her gift. She couldn’t go into how she’d helped Mike with his sexual dysfunction, discovering it stemmed from an impotency spell cast by an ex.
“I’m a certified sex therapist,” she felt compelled to say. “With a doctorate in clinical sexology.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Plus a dash of magick.”
She lifted one shoulder. “Eh, to be honest, it’s mostly the magick.”
Kasabian regarded her with a curious expression. “You pick up people’s feelings?”
“It can work that way, if someone asks me to open the door. I don’t make a habit of eavesdropping. In fact, I keep the psychic door closed most of the time.”
He gestured for her to lean closer, then leaned in too.
She had the bizarre notion that he was going to kiss her.
Even more bizarre, she involuntarily licked her lips in anticipation.
His mouth moved close to her ear, brushing the shell of it ever so slightly as he said, “So, what do you get from me?”
She tried to stifle her shiver. He leaned back, and she saw that his question was a challenge, maybe a test. She opened the door and…
holy Zensu, a wave of desire, pain, and heat washed over her.
Desire for her. He’s Caido. This can’t be right.
She’d never picked up anything like that before.
It spiraled inside her like a vine, a dark hunger twining through her until she slammed the door shut.
She worked to mask her surprise, along with the flush on her face. She had to lean in close again. “I got nothing, but that’s no surprise. Caidos don’t have sexual pathos…or sexual anything. You’re all shut down.” She grabbed her drink, intending to turn around and leave.
Kasabian’s smile said, I don’t believe you. He gave her a wink and tipped his chin toward the dance floor. “Go dance, give me something to watch.”
Was he serious? His playful smile could go both ways.
A woman tugged her sleeve. “Are you Kye? I was told you could help me with…a problem.”
“Yes, yes, I can.” Kye gratefully led her to her usual table. Damn, did she need a diversion from the way his smile still tingled through her.
A reserved sign sat on the shiny black table top. Mike let her conduct business in the club, and she insisted on giving him a cut. Some people felt more comfortable talking about their sexual issues in loud, foggy surroundings. The club had become her second office.
It was damn annoying how Kye’s attention kept straying to Kasabian through the night, how her mind kept replaying their conversation. Women gawked and flirted, but he didn’t flirt back. She was glad to see him leave while she finished up with a client session after closing time.
Her relief evaporated when she stepped into the well-lit parking lot and spotted him leaning against a deep yellow sports car.
As though he were waiting for her. The thought fluttered in her chest. Not helping, the Lotus’s license plate read NOANGEL, and black angel wings spread across the hood.
Caidos in particular were drawn to fancy, fast cars, funded by the good investments many had made in real estate before the boom.
But the man himself was far sexier than his car.
His arms were loosely crossed in front of his chest, which made his biceps bulge nicely.
She told herself it was enough to enjoy the view.
Men who took care of their bodies, working out enough to build muscle without looking jacked up, were eye candy. No calories in looking.
No complications either.
The thick, black heels of her short boots clunked on the asphalt. She felt such an odd pull toward him that she gave him a brief smile and made to continue on.
“Aren’t you hot in that?” he asked, gesturing as though he were wearing a jacket.