Chapter 3
CAIDEN
M y alarm, a thrashing punk anthem, goes off way too soon for my liking. It’s time to get ready for kickboxing class, my favorite way to start the day. I stumble out of bed and into the kitchen where I prepare myself a coffee protein shake that I can sip on my way to class.
I nearly spit out my shake when I see “You’ve Been Matched! 3” in my notification banner.
I had forgotten I applied for Kismeet.
How am I already matched when I haven’t even browsed any profiles yet? I have no idea how dating apps work, so maybe this is normal. Oh well, time to take a look.
“Whoa!” My hand covers my mouth when I see my match.
A drop-dead gorgeous mothwoman dressed in a cute pink outfit smiles at the camera. But it’s not her beauty that surprises me, it’s the fact that her wings match those of a Cecropia Silk Moth, the same moths I have tattooed on the back of my hands.
What the actual fuck? What kind of weird coincidence is that? They are my favorite moths for their beautiful wing patterns, colors, and bright red and white bodies. To say I’m intrigued is an understatement.
Her delicate brown wings with white and red stripes and crescent moon shapes are breathtaking. They look soft and silky to the touch. But it’s not just her wings that appear to be a tactile dream. From her generous hips to the red tufted banding against her white velvet skin, everything about her makes my hands itch with the urge to feel her. And if that wasn’t enough, her soft red eyes and dazzling smile framed by a cloud of long wavy black hair are enough to make any man fall to his knees.
My eyes dart around the screen, taking in as much information about her as I can. Her name is Selene Luminaire, she’s only two years younger than me at forty-three, she loves art, and her ideal meal is a fresh salad followed by an over-the-top and decadent dessert.
Now to figure out what to message her.
Maybe a simple “what’s up?” will work?
I open the tap on the messaging function and my eyes widen.
Oh.
Selene has already messaged me. How did I miss that? Maybe this is my sign that I’m officially ‘getting old’ because figuring out new technology is a bitch sometimes.
Selene: Hi, Caiden! My name is Selene! Nice to meet you! I see your favorite meal is an Impossible Burger. I love Impossible burgers myself. Are you a vegetarian too?
First of all, the fact that she’s so proper is really cute. Second of all, I’m thankful she picked such an easy topic to start with.
Caiden: Hello there, Selene! I’m so happy you messaged me. I am, in fact, a vegetarian. I’ve been one for a little over a decade now. What about you?
Perfect.
Now to just change into my workout gear so I can get to kickboxing class. But as soon as I lock my phone, I hear that melodic ding that I’ve come to associate with Kismeet.
She’s already messaged me back?
I rush to unlock my phone and navigate to the app.
Selene: I’ve been veggie my whole life. So … I gotta ask … where’s your favorite veggie-friendly place to eat? You are in Nashville, right?
Caiden: Yes, I’m a Nashville native. Born and raised. And my favorite place is this vegan deli in East Nash. Their hot “chicken” sandwich is to die for.
Selene: I know where you’re talking about! That’s what I get when I go there too! That and a caramel milkshake.
Caiden: I have to admit that I’ve never had one of their milkshakes.
Selene: WHAT?! Caiden! We have to fix this IMMEDIATELY!!
A soft smile forms on my lips. I love that her messaging style changes as she talks to me. That must mean she’s getting comfortable, right?
Caiden: I like that idea :]
Selene: Should we call it a date?
It’s been years since I went on a first date. Sure, I’ve been asked on dates by a few of my coworkers or even club patrons, but I always politely declined. I always declined, but not because they weren’t lovely people, but because none of them felt like they could be The One. There’s no way to tell if Selene is The One yet, especially over a messaging app, but there’s something that feels right about this.
Besides, I promise Callie …
Caiden: That would be awesome! Let’s do it! When are you free?
Selene: As a mothwoman, I’m nocturnal. Are you up for an evening date?
Caiden: How convenient! I work nights, so I consider myself nocturnal as well.
Oh shit!
Work!
Kickboxing class is out of the question. I should have left five minutes ago, but I was so distracted with messaging Selene that I lost track of time. Even though I attend kickboxing class religiously four to five times a week, I don’t mind missing it if it means I get to talk to this gorgeous mothwoman a little longer.
However, I can’t miss work, especially on a Saturday. Andre, the owner, would be pissed. It would be my neck. Literally. He’s a vampire.
Caiden: Speaking of work, I have to get ready for it. I’m free most Sundays and Mondays. Just let me know what works for you. I’ll talk to you later.
To avoid temptation when she messages me back, I put my phone on Do Not Disturb before rushing to get ready. I speed through my shower and dressing in my work attire of black slacks and a black button-down, thinking about Selene the entire time.
Are we a good match? Would she find my jokes funny? What does her laugh sound like? All the questions and more race through my mind. I can’t believe I’m going on a date and I’m excited about it.
I zip through the busy streets of Nashville, jamming out to my music and trying to get in the right head space. But by the time I reach The Den, I’m vibrating with anticipation. I want to look at my messages to see if Selene has picked a day to meet up, but I’ll know I’ll just get distracted again. I need to focus on work.
The security at The Den runs like a well-tuned, finely oiled machine. Andre pays us well and pays me even better to create the best security team money can buy. I’m pleased that Saturday night is going off without a hitch. We shut down a fight before it even begins, remove belligerent patrons before they make a scene, and even catch a group of underage humans trying to sneak in using fake IDs.
So, when my least favorite patron steps into the VIP area, I let out an audible groan. A tall human, with graying dark blonde hair slicked back with too much gel, spray-tanned skin, and an expensive suit. He holds himself like he’s better than everyone else. I don’t know this fucker’s name; I just call him The Asshole. His entitled attitude rubs me the wrong way and he flaunts his money like it means something to me. But the worst thing about him is how he flirts with the cocktail servers.
He leans too close, leers at them, and talks to them too much. The problem is that he’s never broken any rules by touching them or blatantly propositioning them, so I haven’t had a reason to kick him out. But my servers have told me how uncomfortable he makes them.
The first thing The Asshole does is wave down Arianna, a younger Naga cocktail server with the coloring of a Burmese python. Arianna sucks in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. I know her well enough at this point to understand she’s putting on a brave face.
When Arianna approaches him, The Asshole offers her a smile reminiscent of a shark’s and whispers something in her ear. She stiffens but nods, a forced grin plastered on her face. As she walks toward the bar, The Asshole checks out her ass while licking his lips.
I clench my fists at my side. Keep it together. He hasn’t done anything. Yet.
The evening races toward morning and everyone in the VIP area is having a great time … except Arianna, who is being monopolized by The Asshole. I finally get fed up when she walks away from him, tears in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I ask gently, pulling into the corner behind the bar.
She sniffs, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“Come on, Arianna. You can tell me. I’m here to protect you.”
“Umm … well …” Her gaze lands on The Asshole.
“Is that human bothering you?”
“He won’t leave me alone. And that last time he called me over, he slipped me some cash and asked me to meet him outside after close.”
That fucker.
Arianna is not only young, but she’s our newest hire. Leave it to this creep to prey upon the most vulnerable members of our staff. I hate that this has happened to Arianna. No one deserves to feel unsafe at work.
With a deep inhale, I approach The Asshole. “Hey, you.”
He quirks a brow. “‘Hey you?’ Is that how you address your patrons? No ‘excuse me’ or ‘sir?’”
I clench my jaw, holding back the urge to rip into him, but I must remain professional as possible. “Not when patrons do things like proposition our cocktail servers.”
The Asshole stars at me, gaze never wavering. “And which little slut told you I did that?”
My eyes narrow. Is this fucker for real? “Alright, sir . I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Me?” He scoffs. “Leave? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not,” I deadpan.
“But I’m one of your highest paying patrons.”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “I don’t care.”
The Asshole reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “How much?”
“Actually,” I begin, reaching into my pocket, “here’s the cash you offered one our servers. Please take it and leave before I’m forced to escort you out.”
His icy gaze turns venomous. “I would like to speak to the manager.”
“No use.” I shake my head. “The manager gives me discretion over all security matters.”
“Then the owner. I demand to speak to the owner,” he says, stomping his foot.
I snicker. “Throwing a tantrum like a child isn’t helping your case.” I grab his bicep. “Let’s go.”
He squirms, trying to get out of my grasp. “Let me go, you troglodyte!”
“That’s a new one,” I remark with a laugh as I tighten my grip.
He continues to spew obscenities as I drag him to the alternate exit, but I tune him out. I don’t give a single fuck about what this creep has to say. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to throw a patron out and it won’t be the last.
By the time we reach the back door, The Asshole is screaming, his voice shrill. “How dare you? You’re fired, you hear me? You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”
I give him a gentle shove, forcing him onto the street. “Looking forward to it.”
“Fuck you!” He turns around and rushes toward me, his face twisted in rage.
With an awkward stumble, he attempts to shove me, but I step out of the way. The Asshole collides with the brick wall behind me in a howl of pain. He whirls around, cocks his hand back and tries to take a swing at me. I easily dodge him with a smile.
Perfect.
This motherfucker wants a fight. I’ll give him one.
I connect a fist to his face with my vicious right jab, sending him reeling. With a thump, he lands on his ass, clutching his cheek. He’ll bruise, and there’s a small part of me that’s a little sad I’ll never see him again. It would have been amazing to see the shiner in all its glory.
“Get the fuck out here,” I growl. “And never come back. You’re officially banned from The Den for propositioning our staff and attempted assault.”
“You hit me!” he shrieks.
“Only because you tried to hit me first.” I point toward the street. “Now leave before I call the cops.”
Before The Asshole can say anything more, I reenter the club, the door shutting behind me with a satisfying slam. Good riddance, even if this means I have some paperwork to fill out now.
But first, to check on Arianna.