Chapter One
Tequila hit Seth’s tongue with a smooth bite and excellent afterburn.
Nice
. He wouldn’t normally condone drinking on the job, but he did, after all, run Desire. As the premier club in Atlanta, where people came to see and be seen, Desire had its perks. Drinking when he had the overwhelming desire to get hammered was one of them. Watching his two best friends—Desire’s owner, Griff, and the head of security, Dominic—on the dance floor with their women was confirmation of what he’d known the moment the women had shown up in their lives.
“Alert the troops for our leaders have fallen,” he murmured into his second shot glass before tossing the drink back. More burn equaled unparalleled pleasure. A dark chuckle rolled out of his chest at the same time the music ended.
Surprise registered on the faces of the nearest patrons.
His mouth kicked up at one corner. He knew people considered him standoffish and a bit…
extreme
in his personal tastes, but the combination sure as hell didn’t stop women from hitting on him. That suited him fine. At least having that reputation meant his bed partners were aware of what they were volunteering for.
Watching Dominic’s woman, Rhyan, hook an arm around his neck and grind against him as the next song queued up made Seth eye the bottle beside him. Alcohol wasn’t numbing the ache in his chest. Maybe taking a woman would better suit his mood. Whomever he ended up with tonight needed to be in to his brand of pleasure and the absolute opposite of his typical fare. Because for all he bitched about his boys falling in love, he was jealous. Jealous and terrified. If the same fate befell him, he was well and truly screwed.
Once upon a time, he’d thought love existed for him. Now?
A hard shiver raced through him as he returned the bottle of 1800 Coleccíon to its place in the ornate cage that held the priciest liqueurs. The smells of earth, air, water and smoke besieged his senses. Woven between the elements was an unfamiliar smell, something like ozone and summer storms unleashed on arid lands. Beneath his skin, his element—fire—ignited and burned through his veins. The urge to seek out whoever was manipulating the unpredictable flame inside him, to bend to the stranger’s will, made his knees lock. He didn’t let anyone manipulate the flame that fueled his soul. The first equaled servitude without end. The second equaled death. Seth would welcome the latter before the former.
He didn’t kneel before anyone. Ever.
Magic. In the damned club
. All-consuming fury choked him and made it hard to draw a breath.
Desire
was a magic-free zone. Godsbedamned practitioners might not know why, but they knew bringing that shit into his house was a direct challenge. One he wouldn’t tolerate.
He clutched the edge of the bar hard enough to crack the granite. Forcing himself to focus proved to be as hard as hell.
Hell. How apropos
. A harsh chuff escaped him. Heat coiled through his nose and hung at the back of his throat. His eyes burned. Flames licked at his fingertips, begging for release.
“No.” The denial was as gritty and uncompromising as the barren desert sands his people called home. “I own
you
. Never the other way around.”
Heels of his hands pressing against his temples, he bent forward and tried to drown out the deafening roar only he could hear—his element’s protest.
Frigid fingers rubbed his neck. “You okay? Geez. You’re burning up.” Bailey, Griff’s partner and Seth’s good friend, must have seen his reaction and immediately headed his way.
“I’m great.” He slowly straightened, blinking rapidly. His vision had changed from seeing traditional, three-dimensional color to only making out infrared images. That hadn’t happened in too long to remember. He faced Bailey, reaching out to caress her aura before resting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell Griff we’ve got a fairy godmother under the roof.”
“A what?”
“A
Tequila hit Seth’s tongue with a smooth bite and excellent afterburn.
Nice
. He wouldn’t normally condone drinking on the job, but he did, after all, run Desire. As the premier club in Atlanta, where people came to see and be seen, Desire had its perks. Drinking when he had the overwhelming desire to get hammered was one of them. Watching his two best friends—Desire’s owner, Griff, and the head of security, Dominic—on the dance floor with their women was confirmation of what he’d known the moment the women had shown up in their lives.
“Alert the troops for our leaders have fallen,” he murmured into his second shot glass before tossing the drink back. More burn equaled unparalleled pleasure. A dark chuckle rolled out of his chest at the same time the music ended.
Surprise registered on the faces of the nearest patrons.
His mouth kicked up at one corner. He knew people considered him standoffish and a bit…
extreme
in his personal tastes, but the combination sure as hell didn’t stop women from hitting on him. That suited him fine. At least having that reputation meant his bed partners were aware of what they were volunteering for.
Watching Dominic’s woman, Rhyan, hook an arm around his neck and grind against him as the next song queued up made Seth eye the bottle beside him. Alcohol wasn’t numbing the ache in his chest. Maybe taking a woman would better suit his mood. Whomever he ended up with tonight needed to be in to his brand of pleasure and the absolute opposite of his typical fare. Because for all he bitched about his boys falling in love, he was jealous. Jealous and terrified. If the same fate befell him, he was well and truly screwed.
Once upon a time, he’d thought love existed for him. Now?
A hard shiver raced through him as he returned the bottle of 1800 Coleccíon to its place in the ornate cage that held the priciest liqueurs. The smells of earth, air, water and smoke besieged his senses. Woven between the elements was an unfamiliar smell, something like ozone and summer storms unleashed on arid lands. Beneath his skin, his element—fire—ignited and burned through his veins. The urge to seek out whoever was manipulating the unpredictable flame inside him, to bend to the stranger’s will, made his knees lock. He didn’t let anyone manipulate the flame that fueled his soul. The first equaled servitude without end. The second equaled death. Seth would welcome the latter before the former.
He didn’t kneel before anyone. Ever.
Magic. In the damned club
. All-consuming fury choked him and made it hard to draw a breath.
Desire
was a magic-free zone. Godsbedamned practitioners might not know why, but they knew bringing that shit into his house was a direct challenge. One he wouldn’t tolerate.
He clutched the edge of the bar hard enough to crack the granite. Forcing himself to focus proved to be as hard as hell.
Hell. How apropos
. A harsh chuff escaped him. Heat coiled through his nose and hung at the back of his throat. His eyes burned. Flames licked at his fingertips, begging for release.
“No.” The denial was as gritty and uncompromising as the barren desert sands his people called home. “I own
you
. Never the other way around.”
Heels of his hands pressing against his temples, he bent forward and tried to drown out the deafening roar only he could hear—his element’s protest.
Frigid fingers rubbed his neck. “You okay? Geez. You’re burning up.” Bailey, Griff’s partner and Seth’s good friend, must have seen his reaction and immediately headed his way.
“I’m great.” He slowly straightened, blinking rapidly. His vision had changed from seeing traditional, three-dimensional color to only making out infrared images. That hadn’t happened in too long to remember. He faced Bailey, reaching out to caress her aura before resting a hand on her shoulder. “Tell Griff we’ve got a fairy godmother under the roof.”
“A what?”
“A
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