Chapter 31
I didn’t think there was a way Ava as Pearl could become more beautiful on stage.
But then I settle myself in the VIP section, watch her strut out on stage, and lose my breath when she locks eyes and smiles at me.
Ava acknowledging my existence when she’s wrapped in a sparkling string bikini and wearing her lace mask is next level. The club seemed crowded when I first walked in, but everyone else ceases to exist as I experience my witch’s performance as if for the first time.
She is a vision. A temptress. All through her set of songs she flashes her gray eyes at me. Smiles and taunts with her hips. Makes promises to me with her body.
Her pale skin grows pink, partly from exertion, but I bet a good deal of that flush is magic filling her reserves. How much of it is from me?
Whatever the amount, I want to give her more. I want to be an endless supply to keep her happy and healthy.
I love you, I say through my eyes when our gazes clash. Yes, I’m drowning in lust for you, too. But the current is only so strong because I love every part of your soul.
I don’t know if Ava interprets my silent message, but something must make a difference to her because she alters her routine. Normally, every dance she does is different, but she always—other than the times I tempted her with boxes and a kitten—ends on the pole, then strolls off the stage without a backward glance.
Today though, Ava slips to her knees and crawls. Her lithe body is cat-like as she stalks, not off stage, but toward the VIP section. I’m out of my seat and at the edge before I can consider if she wants me here. Then, in front of a crowd of clubgoers that know Pearl doesn’t interact with customers, she reaches out, hooks a finger in the collar of my shirt, and drags me close until her lips brush my ear.
“Thanks for the boost, Squid. Check your phone.”
Then she plants a kiss on my cheek, no doubt leaving behind an outline of her pearlescent lipstick.
I might never wash my face again.
Pearl pushes me away, as if the dancer is done with me. She’s handed out a favor to a lucky bastard and is going back to her ice queen ritual.
As I resettle in my seat, I feel the stares of awe and jealousy directed my way.
They’re well-deserved. I’m the lucky asshole who gets to be with her tonight. Though none of them realize that I’m that fortunate.
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pull out my phone. Just as I’m wondering why Ava wanted me to look at the device, her name flashes with a new text message.
Ava: From the way you were just drooling, I can bet you’re pretty hungry. Meet me at the food truck on 8th in thirty minutes. Dinner is my treat.
I don’t want to wait even that long to see her again, but if I bust into the backstage area, Yasmin will probably ban me for life and find another architect for The Underworld. Instead, I settle my tab and head to the front door to bother Aspen where he’s checking IDs before people can go in.
“I thought you passed your bar exam,” I say, pointedly staring at his Security shirt. “Shouldn’t you be lawyering now?”
“Lawyering is not a word.” The big, bearded Elemental waves a couple inside. “It’s practicing law. And I’ve been interviewing. Just got an offer from a firm. I start in two weeks.”
“That’s awesome!” I clap a congratulatory slap on his shoulder.
The Petal Pusher doesn’t look as enthusiastic as I’d expect.
“Yeah, I guess,” he grumbles. “But Cat doesn’t work at the office.”
Ah, yes. No more security shifts at The Jewelry Box means no more working with his girlfriend.
“But,” I point out, “now you can come here as a customer. And stare at her all night like a creep, instead of spending some of your time out here”—I wave at the line of impatient people wanting to get into the hot club—“collecting cover charge.”
Aspen tilts his head, wearing the start of a smile. “True. Rafael comes here to creep a lot.”
“Exactly. Now it can be a couple bonding activity. You and your boyfriend getting buzzed and gawp at your girlfriend. Sounds like a blast.”
Aspen chuckles, and I clasp his shoulder again before strolling off in search of my own magical woman I unabashedly obsess over.
Ava is already at the food truck, likely having taken a back exit to avoid being seen. Cactus Crepes, owned by a Petal Pusher named Terra, tends to park in this area to feed the late-night clubgoers. Lots of places only serve drinks, and everyone gets tipsy and starts craving delicious street food. Ava waits off to the side, the light of the truck setting her to glowing.
She’s taken off her mask, changed out of her skimpy outfit, and washed as much glitter off as she could manage. Black yoga shorts hug her toned ass and legs, and a cropped T-shirt shows me flashes of her stomach. Her hair, which was previously in a high ponytail, now hangs in a messy braid down her back, topped off with a Land of Ice Cream Snow baseball hat I gave her. After dancing in those skyscraper heals, slipping her feet into some well-worn sandals must be a relief.
My witch still looks as gorgeous as she did onstage. More so because now I can stroll up to her, scoop her into my arms, and bury my face in her neck. She smells like sweat and eucalyptus. My cock twitches in my pants as I think of other ways I could get her sweaty.
“Hello, stranger.” Ava chuckles, combing her fingers through my hair and teasing my scalp with her nails. “Did you have a fun night?”
“The best.” With a groan of regret that I can’t push her up against the side of the food truck and ravish her, I let Ava slide out of my arms. “You were amazing. Let me get you something. You must be starving.”
I slip my fingers into my pocket to retrieve my wallet, but Ava covers my hand with hers.
“I already told you,” she scolds, “it’s my treat.”
“Ava—“
“Sammy,” she speaks over my protest then reaches up to tug my hair in a gentle rebuke. “I know you’re always going to have more money than me.” Her gray eyes hold mine. “But I make enough to treat my man to some crepes. So tell me what you want.”
You. You you you.
All my life I’ve felt like a walking wallet to most people. Even the ones who care about me often assume I’ll be willing to pay without thought.
Rarely does someone make a point to buy me something.
“I…uh…need to look at the menu,” I tell her, voice tight with emotion I’m trying not to spill out on my overworked witch.
Ava grins triumphantly and tows me to the end of the line. There, she takes out her phone and flips through the pictures of Kraken I sent to her before heading over here.
“I can’t believe you got her another cat tree. She’s never going to walk on the floor again,” Ava mutters.
Little does she know my plan to design Kraken a cat castle, with a fully functional moat. Of course, that will live at my house, so the two of them will have to come over even more than they already do.
We reach the window and are greeted by Terra, who has on a broad smile and the slightly disheveled look of a woman who has been serving drunk customers all night.
As threatened, Ava pays for her cheesy spinach crepe and my napoles crepe.
We lean our shoulders against a nearby lamppost and devour the late-night snack. It’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had.
That is until the slight scent of cigarette smoke drifts our way along with a sharp voice saying, “Miss Bellarose? Is that you?”
Ava stiffens at my side, straightening from her casual lean and turning to face the asker.
It’s a young white man, maybe early twenties, wearing black jeans and a slightly wrinkled button-up shirt. He’s holding a smoldering cigarette and staring at Ava with a sharp, calculating gleam in his eye.
“Hello, Barry.” She dips her head, voice gone to an inauthentic pleasant tone.
His eyes drag over her, and while I find I don’t mind people ogling Ava when she’s Pearl on stage, this attention makes me want to douse the man with arctic water full of piranhas.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Barry saunters closer. “What brings you downtown so late on a school night? Don’t librarians still have work during the summer?” He chuckles at his own joke, but that’s not the troublesome part of his comments.
He knows who Ava is. Where she works. At least where she works during normal—or slightly extended—business hours.
And we’re standing half a block from the club where she strips some evenings.
I have a strong sense Ava doesn’t want the two worlds to collide. But also, that there may be no stopping this man from doing exactly that.
“I’ll still be in tomorrow. Just spending time with my friends before I head home.” She waves toward me, and I try not to flinch at the label that I should find complimentary.
But aren’t we more than that?
Because Ava has started to feel like my everything.
Barry’s attention flicks to me, then away, then back to me with an intense scrutiny. I watch his eyes widen as he stares at my face. Having never met the man before in my life, I wonder what could be so interesting about my appearance.
Then, with the hand that isn’t holding a cigarette, he taps his cheek. “You got something there.”
I brush my fingers over the spot, expecting some sauce from my crepe. But my fingers come away pearly white.
Pearl’s lipstick.
The man watches us with a new light in his eyes as he takes a drag of his smoke and lets it out in a slow stream. “You might want to be careful, Miss Bellarose.”
“Excuse me?” There’s a hard note to her voice now.
The man doesn’t seem to notice. Or mind.
“This area has a lot of questionable businesses. Wouldn’t want rumors spreading of you spending time here. Or, you know, working at one. CFF wouldn’t like it.” He saunters a step closer. “Would be terrible if people started gossiping.”
Ava’s chin goes stone hard, and I swear I can hear her grinding her teeth.
It takes me an extra second to realize exactly what is happening here.
This guy must’ve been in The Jewelry Box while Ava danced. He saw her kiss me. And now he sees Ava at my side and made the connection.
And he’s using that information to threaten her job?
I step forward, too, letting my mouth widen into a grin full of teeth as I loom over the man. “It would also be terrible if the brake line in your car happened to snap and you only discovered the issue when you were driving across a bridge, careening toward the side, bursting through the guardrail, and plummeting toward the dry bottom of the canal.”
“Sammy!” Ava gasps as the creep’s face goes white.
“What?” I keep an innocent tone. “I thought we were talking about hypothetical situations that will never—ever—happen. Right, Barry?”
Instead of answering, the guy drops his cigarette on the sidewalk and scurries off. I stomp out the still glowing ember, disgust twisting my mouth.
Then I turn to Ava and find all the playful joy from earlier is replaced by worry.
“Who was that?” I ask softly, as if that’ll lessen the blow of the answer.
“Abraham Fellow’s TA. They’re close. He’s like a clone of the guy.”
“And you think he’ll make trouble for you?”
Ava crumbles up the empty wrapper from her crepe and tosses it in a nearby trash can, no longer meeting my gaze.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Well, I know one thing for sure. Barry is about to get a permanent ban from The Jewelry Box.