[M__M 03] Misery Loves Company (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Letting out a breath, I lowered my knife. “Angelia, hi.”

“Hi yourself. I hope you weren’t planning on staying home all night. I want to take you out.” Oblivious to the knife I held, she offered me her hand.

Behind Angelia stood two beefy satyrs, also dressed in black, who weren’t so oblivious. They kept a sharp eye on the blade. I tucked it behind my back, contemplating how weird this was.

The seductress before me was basically the satyrs’ very own drug kingpin. Or make that queenpin. Angelia made and dealt—through her network of addicts—a drug called F. If you imagined an aphrodisiac on crack, you got the idea. F wasn’t exactly harmful unless you considered losing your virtue and possibly your dignity dangerous, but like any drug, it had the potential to be greatly misused and abused. Some called it the ultimate date-rape drug because one dose in an unsuspecting person’s drink could turn a demure nun into a sex fiend.

I didn’t precisely have a problem with F. So long as it was taken by consenting adults, it wasn’t much different than being blasted by a satyr’s power. Plus, it offered zero risk of turning someone into an addict—magical or mundane. But the one time I’d met Angelia had been when I’d suspected her of making a tainted batch that was killing people. She’d convinced me of her innocence—I still wasn’t sure how—but I wouldn’t call us friends. I barely knew her.

So yeah, this was weird.

“Um.” I took Angelia’s hand and led her into my apartment. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m kind of busy.”

“On a Friday night? That’s not good. Lucen said you might be shaken up after what happened with the sylphs, and since he’s busy working, I thought I’d drag you away from home and take you to Purgatory with me.”

Purgatory. That explained her attire. That one time we’d met, Angelia had looked like an angel, but the angel could apparently go vamp quite easily. Her scarf was the only part of her outfit that was unchanged.

Silky and suggestive, the scarf hid the fact that beneath it, Angelia had lost her eyes in a vicious attack. To add insult to violence, she’d been branded as imperfect because of that and kicked out of her old domus. Dezzi had taken her in. It was one of the reasons I liked Dezzi, and I guess I held a bit of a grudging admiration for Angelia too. In spite of what had been done to her, she seemed to have a gentle spirit.

“Surely you can spare a few hours to do something fun?” She drew a soft finger over my hand.

The hyacinth scent of her pheromones temporarily overpowered me, and I caught myself contemplating her full lips and the swell of her breasts that were so close to popping out of her leather bustier.

Like I didn’t have enough problems with male satyrs and their damn magic. I did not need one more working her mojo on me.

Angelia giggled, obviously sensing the desire she aroused. “Come on, Jess. I want to take you up to the VIP room with me and kiss you in front of all the humans. They’ll go wild. Just think about what a head rush that would give you.”

I pulled my hand away, and the wave of lust receded. Thank dragons she wasn’t another Devon. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No, it’s a great idea.” She grinned wickedly.

Lucen would think so too. He’d probably ask to watch.

“I really do have work.”

Angelia’s perfectly red lips fell. “You can’t put it off for a few hours? When’s the last time you went dancing? Oh, and I want to tell you about what I’ve been doing with the F.”

“Okay, that’s definitely something you shouldn’t tell me. I’m working with the Gryphons.”

Angelia dismissed the Gryphons by blowing hair out of her face. “This is good. You’ll like this. I told you how I was fiddling with the spell to make it so it can’t be used to assault anyone? I’m making progress.”

“That is good.”

“Very good. Come on, your drinks will be on me. Literally, if you like.”

I rolled my eyes, a gesture that was lost on her, but her mood was contagious. I could take off for a couple hours to do something fun, couldn’t I? I wouldn’t stay out late, and I’d hit the library first thing tomorrow morning. I was tired anyway since Lucen had woken me up so early. I wouldn’t be as productive tonight.

I was full of excuses.

“You are a master pusher, aren’t you? Definite drug queenpin.”

Angelia tossed her head back and laughed, but her stoic bodyguards didn’t so much as flinch. The contrast between them made
me
laugh.

“Put on something hot,” she called after me as I went into my bedroom to change.

“Anything I wear will look frumpy next to you.”

“Nonsense. That’s my appeal. I bring out the best in everyone.”

The truth of Angelia’s words might have been debatable, but I sure felt frumpy next to her. All satyrs gave off a kind of glow, for lack of a better explanation, that could draw heads. Even the less attractive ones. Like their magical healing abilities, however, or their need to feed from addicts, that kind of magnetism was not included with my particular brand of satyr subspecies. I gave off more of the stay-away vibe than the come-hither sort.

To cover up their more obvious satyr traits, Angelia and her bodyguards wore charms to disguise their horns. I simply wore my leather pants and a lacy red, midriff-baring tank top that didn’t see enough use these days since I no longer went clubbing.

At Purgatory, my outfit was tame. The line stretching around the building was a shifting mass of black, including large quantities of vinyl, fishnet and spandex. Most of the color people sported was in their hair or tattoos, the latter of which could be viewed easily. Fridays went by the moniker of “Fetish Fridays”, and in addition to the spectacle I was certain to find inside, many people chose to see just how little cloth they could get away with wearing.

With Angelia, getting in was simple. We passed the rope and entered the club in record time. Before I could fully take in the insanity or let my ears adjust to the music, I was ushered to the second floor and tucked into the VIP room.

This was one of the few areas of the club that I’d never seen before. Some sort of red and silver lights covered the walls in sensual patterns, and the chair I sat on felt more like real leather than the vinyl downstairs. The music was quieter too, thankfully.

A waitress came over to take our drink orders, and I settled against the soft cushions. “So this is how the other half parties, huh?”

Angelia laughed. “How is it that you’ve never been back here when you’re friends with Devon?”

“Calling Devon and I friends might be more than is deserved.”

She pooh-poohed that thought, and our drinks arrived. On the waitress’s heels came two lust addicts. Both were young women, which meant both were probably Angelia’s dealers for the evening. I pulled out my phone so I could pretend to ignore their conversation and the F changing hands.

Yet Angelia wouldn’t let me ignore her business completely. When the women disappeared, she filled me in on what she’d been doing with the F, and although I should have been thinking about turning her in for all of this, I couldn’t do it. That was what made Angelia so alluring—she cared. Or so she made me believe.

Angelia claimed that she didn’t want her drugs to be used to force people to do things against their will. If she ever was busted, there was a good chance the satyr who took her place wouldn’t bother with these safeguards. So Angelia got a pass from me.

One way or another, Dezzi was pulling me to her side. Arresting Angelia would be a huge score for the Gryphons, but I wouldn’t be the one to turn her in. And Angelia knew it, or she wouldn’t have invited me along.

“This was Dezzi’s idea.” I set down my Jack and Coke, realization dawning. “Dezzi suggested you hang out with me so I’d start feeling like more of one of the gang.”

Angelia rested her head against the chairback. Her brown hair fanned out around her, and she looked sweet in spite of her outfit. “No, Dezzi didn’t tell me anything. I wanted to get to know you better. You have a reputation—the girl who traded souls, the woman who beat the furies, the human who’s stolen satyr hearts. You think that’s normal? You’re fascinating. A legend.”

“A legend? What’s this about hearts, plural?”

Angelia sucked on a fingernail. “I said nothing.”

“That’s the problem. This
is
Dezzi’s doing, isn’t it? Admit it.”

“No.” She slapped my arm. For someone who couldn’t see, she had excellent aim.

I swished my drink around to stir up the whiskey that settled to the bottom. “Lucen then.” When Angelia didn’t deny it immediately, I slammed back the remains of my cocktail. “Damn his manipulative, scheming ass.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. It’s a nice ass.” She grinned into her wineglass, sensing my confusion. “I can’t see it, but I’ve grabbed it.”

I choked on my ice.

That made her laugh some more, and she pulled me closer. “I’m not getting into your relationship issues, but I do—as a friend—have some advice.”

Warily, I spit out the remains of the ice cube. Angelia had offered me advice before, namely that I should trust Lucen. “Uh-huh. Advice, and that is?”

Her head swiveled, taking in the room. I wondered if she was listening to voices or otherwise sensing the other occupants by their emotions. Although disguised satyrs worked the bar, most of the occupants were human.

“Your left,” she said at last. “The bartender with the golden skin and black hair. The one with tattoos on his arms. See him?”

“Yeah?”

“His name is Noah. He’s a sweetheart and hung like a satyr, or so I hear.” She giggled at her own joke, one based on the misconception that all satyrs were blessed with super-human equipment. “Take him for a spin. You’ll have fun.”

I needed another drink and motioned for the waitress. “Right. Fun.”

Fuck Lucen. This was his real plan, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about me hanging out with Angelia, becoming friends with her so I’d join the damn council. It was about me hanging out with Angelia so she could help cure me of my monogamy.

“Not your type?” Angelia asked.

I rested my head on my knees. “Sorry, but my type is not the kind of person who’s into screwing random people.”

Our waitress brought us over another round, and Angelia smiled prettily at her. The waitress was human and definitely Angelia’s type, from what I’d observed of her addicts.

“Noah’s not random. I’m vouching for him. He’s a good guy. You’ll like him, and he’ll treat you right.”

I raised my head long enough to drink deeply. “I appreciate that your job is supposed to be to help me select men, and I do want to make my relationship with Lucen work, but I’m not sure this is the way. Noah’s hot, I’ll give you that, and I’m glad to hear he’s nice, but I need more. I can’t just fuck people like that. It’s not me. I don’t work that way.”

Angelia made a thoughtful noise as she sipped her wine. “Have you tried?”

“No!”

“Then how do you know you won’t like it? I’m only asking because we
are
satyrs. We have that effect on people.”

I laughed ruefully to hear her fling my own words back at me. “That’s beside the point. Maybe I’m being a brat, but I don’t want to try. I told Lucen I would, but I don’t want to do it.”

I expected a scolding or something like it, but Angelia fell silent. “A lot of humans are like that,” she said at last. “Not all, but a lot. Lucen said you’re one of us, but you’re also very different in a lot of ways. You’re much more human.”

“Yeah, I am. As far as my relationship with Lucen is concerned, I might as well be completely human.”

Angelia reached over and squeezed my wrist. “Even among humans, there are a lot of types of relationships. If you can’t separate sex from love, then maybe you need to find the right sort of balance is all.”

Her words swelled with hope. She wanted us to be happy. Angelia wanted everyone to be happy. It made me wonder how she treated her addicts.

“What I need to find is a way to…” I chased down that thought with a drink.

What I needed was a magical cure that would stop Lucen from needing addicts. He could stay a satyr, but he could feed off me only. Or better yet, off no one.

And that made me wonder… If he hoarded a lot of energy the way Eric’s soul-sucking goblin had, could he last a long time without feeding? And if he didn’t need to feed himself, would that mean he didn’t need to feed his addicts with sex as well?

But that was an awful thought. That would require turning an addict into a ghoul, and from what Lucen had suggested, the containers to store such magic were also nasty. So, bad Jess for contemplating any of this.

“What you need is what?” Angelia asked.

I shook my head, watching the carbonation in my drink, trying to shake away the evil, selfish idea like I could shake the bubbles right out of my soda.

“What she needs,” Devon said, “is to come with me.”

Startled, I shook my glass too hard, and a spray of carbonation landed on my chin. Peachy. Given my conversation with Angelia, Devon was so not the person I wanted to see right now.

Chapter Twenty

Devon stared down at me with a devious smile on his face. He also had a charm hiding his horns, and he was far better dressed than anyone else in the vicinity—black pants and shirt, black tie, black jacket. Expensive-looking. It was what I’d come to identify as his typical work clothes.

“What did I do this time? I’ve been sitting with Angelia, not breaking and entering.” Every time I’d come to Purgatory in the last month, I’d gotten in trouble with Devon for doing something I wasn’t supposed to. Just this once I was innocent. I did not need a lecture.

Devon rubbed his chin. “Guilty conscience? Who said you did anything wrong? I’m sure we can come up with something to punish you, though, if that’s what you’re into.”

“Funny.”

“Yet you’re not laughing. Tough audience.” He held out a hand. “Come.”

I made no move to get up, hating that he could sense the way my stomach twisted. “Why?”

He sighed. “Because you’ve been avoiding me, and I want to talk.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.” That was a lie, which he could tell. I should have weasel-worded my response more cleverly.

Devon’s smirk broadened, confirming it. “Then you should have no problem talking with me.”

“I don’t mind,” Angelia said, so helpfully.

Of course not. She, Devon and Lucen were probably all in this together.

“Fine.” I hurriedly finished my drink, expecting Devon would insist on going to his office, but instead of moving toward the elevator, he led me around a corner.

We landed in an alcove off the very back of the VIP area, one almost impossible to see from the lounge proper. A gap in the wall provided a window onto the main dance floor, and cushions surrounded it. I took a seat next to the gap so I could stare out of it when I needed an excuse for not looking at Devon.

He sat on the other side of the gap and stretched out his legs. “So, what’s wrong?”

His feet were too close. I pulled my legs in, then decided that made me appear defensive. Damn it. I had to shift positions entirely. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’ve been avoiding me since that night when Lucrezia tried to kill you, and now you’ve either got the world’s worst wedgie, or you’re squirming for some other reason. If it’s your unders, I recommend ditching them, but I suspect it’s not.”

I began to say it wasn’t him, but that would be a lie and he could tell. Best to deflect. “I’m having relationship issues with Lucen, and since you’re his best friend, I’d rather not talk about them. Okay?”

Devon scratched his chin again. Was he growing in a goatee, and why hadn’t I noticed that before? Oh wait, probably because I’d been avoiding him. I had to admit it was a good look. Devon had a bit of a baby face, but the scruff gave him an edge to match his personality.

A different waitress entered the alcove and set down a fresh drink for me, and one for Devon. That would make this my third in an hour. Tempted though I was to reach for it, doing so was a bad idea. My tolerance was pretty high, but some situations called for stone-cold sobriety. It was too late for that, but at the very least I could refrain from making my head fuzzier.

“I think since you can’t avoid me at the moment, you’re avoiding the question,” Devon said, “but I’ll play.”

“I’m not asking you to play.”

He leaned toward me. “I like to play.”

I leaned away, and my head rocked as though the alcohol was hitting me all at once. Funny—I’d swear it was clove-scented alcohol. In other words, I couldn’t tell how much was booze-induced intoxication and how much had to do with Devon’s power. I considered moving farther away from him, and to hell with rudeness, but what good would that do? He’d simply laugh about how uncomfortable he made me.

“I don’t need to discuss my relationship issues with you. If you want to gossip, do it with Lucen.”

“Is this about your sex hang-up? I’ve told you before. I want to help.”

“Yeah, I bet.” I threw all the sarcasm I could muster into the words, but it didn’t change the fact that when I met Devon’s bright eyes, my body became very ready to take him up on that offer. My heart beat harder, and I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious of all my exposed skin.

Devon said nothing. He didn’t have to in order to make his point, and he continued to watch me with great amusement.

Fuck it. I drank more. “It’s not just the monogamy thing. He doesn’t talk to me, and that pisses me off.”

My brow furrowed at my own admission. Well done, alcohol. Not only had I
not
planned on talking about this crap with Devon, I hadn’t fully acknowledged the truth to myself before now.

Yet it was definitely true. Lucen’s silence did piss me off. It
did
make me wonder if he was hiding things from me.

Surprised as I was to hear it myself, Devon seemed to be just as taken aback. He poked at the ice in his drink. “Interesting. When you say he doesn’t talk to you—can you be more specific? I find he never shuts up.”

“Well, no, not if you get him started about certain subjects, but he won’t talk about himself. Why am I telling you this?”

“Probably because you’re drinking, and you’re desperate to avoid that other topic.”

I groaned and pushed my glass away. Both of those answers were correct. “Can we pretend we never had this conversation? I should go home. I have work to do tomorrow.”

“That you admitted anything tells me you had too much to drink for me to allow you to leave by yourself. That means you’ll need a ride. I’ll be the one who provides it, which means you’ll end up talking to me longer anyway. So really, you should stay here where it’s comfortable and talk instead.”

“I can leave just fine.”

“You can lie to yourself but not to me.”

“I hate you.”

“Another lie, but back to Lucen. What do you want to know about him that he won’t talk about?”

I draped my arm over my eyes, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. When I peeked out from under it, Devon was still there. No surprise.

Resigned, I let my arm flop back to my side. “Anything. Everything. I want to know if he chose to become a satyr. I want to know what he was like, what he did before he opened The Lair. I want to know where he’s from. But all he’ll tell me is that the past isn’t important. I guess that worries me, like there’s something about his past he doesn’t want me to know.”

“There isn’t.” Devon sounded so certain.

I narrowed my eyes. “And you know this how?”

“Because I know why Lucen isn’t telling you about his past.”

“And?”

Devon set down his drink, but he didn’t answer right away. I had to motion for him to get on with it. “I’m trying to decide if this is something I should tell you.”

“If you’re going to betray Lucen’s secrets…” Well, he shouldn’t and that would make him a very crappy friend, but I really wanted him to do just that, so I couldn’t finish my sentence.

Damn, first wishing for ghoulish magic and now this. I was truly a horrible person for having all these thoughts about Lucen tonight.

“It has nothing to do with Lucen’s secrets,” Devon said, “whatever they are. I was wondering if there was a reason Lucen didn’t tell you these things himself. Since I can’t figure out his reasons, I don’t see the harm. You might as well know since you are one of us.”

“So they’re satyr secrets?”

“You’re obsessed with secrets.”

“Well, yeah. Because no one tells me anything. So go on. Why isn’t Lucen telling me about his past?”

Devon took his time, putting his feet up on the table first. “Because, like most satyrs, he doesn’t remember.”

“Doesn’t remember?” I repeated stupidly. And then, through my alcohol- or pheromone-induced fog, I got it.

I didn’t remember either.

The last time I’d been home I’d found an old photo of me. It was from a camping trip, and in the picture I wore glasses. Glasses I had no memory of ever needing. That was when I’d discovered my childhood memories had become the equivalent of Swiss cheese.

Together, my mother and I had gone through more photos under the pretense that I was feeling nostalgic, and I’d discovered more and more missing pieces. Yet there was a pattern to the missing information. I remembered people and places just fine. It was my personal history that was screwed up.

I’d suspected the magic worked on me had something to do with it, and it appeared that Devon was confirming my suspicion.

I picked up my glass but didn’t drink. “I have a lot of missing memories from before this happened.” I waved my hand over my body to indicate what I meant. “I assumed that it must have been something abnormal about me. Since I wasn’t supposed to be able to turn, the spells had somehow screwed me up.”

“No, that actually makes you normal. It’s mostly personal details that you lost. Right?” When I confirmed it, he continued. “You lose something of yourself in the process, but memories of other people remain. That’s what’s hard to deal with.”

There was a wistful undertone to his voice that surprised and confused me. I’d never heard Devon sound…sad? Feeling both alarmed and awkward, I tilted my glass back and sucked on the ice melt.

Devon snapped out of whatever reverie had brought him down and straightened his shoulders. “Coupled with the agony of having gone through the change, it’s enough for most people to want to forget their pasts entirely. So they ask, and most Doms are only too happy to make sure they receive. I’d say a complete memory wipe is standard. No one, except certain freaks, would want to remember everything, so they don’t.”

“You mean like me? I don’t think I had a choice.”

“I mean like us actually, and I’m sure you didn’t have a choice about it given the circumstances surrounding your change. Normal people—stable people—like Lucen, would not have wanted to remember their pasts.”

I swallowed the feeble remains of an ice cube, hoping I could hold on to each enticing piece of information I’d been given long enough to ask about them all. “But why wouldn’t he tell me that then? Why not say, ‘Hey, Jess, I took some memory-cleansing potion, sorry’?”

“That much you’ll have to ask him. I’m only telling you stuff that would be common knowledge for all satyrs who came about the usual way. You should know these things if you take up Dezzi’s offer. I guess we expect you know more than you do, but that’s not your fault.”

“I should know more.” I entwined my fingers and stretched my arms, careful to keep them away from Devon. This space was too cramped. Alas, my shirt slid up as I did, and I could feel his heavy gaze on my torso.

If you didn’t want guys staring at your stomach and cleavage, you should have worn a different shirt,
I reminded myself. But this was different. This was a guy I was attracted to.

A guy I didn’t want to be attracted to.

And the reason for that?

Your sex hang-up.
I heard the words spoken in my head with Devon’s faintly British accent.

Cringing, I closed my eyes. That shadow of a goatee worked very well for him, indeed. He still had nothing on Lucen, but I had to admit it was sexy. And hey, we were finally having a serious conversation that didn’t involve him being angry at me. Amazing.

And um…shit. I squirmed in my seat, this time because I could feel my body getting hot. If just Devon’s gaze could do this to me, his touch might make me ignite.

I shivered with the thought of it. Before Lucen, my sex life had been as nonexistent as my love life, and I rarely spent much time thinking about its lack. Thanks to Lucen, however, I wasted a lot more time with sex on my brain, and oh hell, was it on my brain now. I wondered what Devon’s lips would taste like. I wondered what his body would feel like. I wondered how similar the experience would be to Lucen since I had so few other experiences to compare it to.

Lucen would like this.

It was a sobering—cooling—thought. Lucen would like this because it was a very satyr thing to do, and I was a satyr. So I should be okay with it.

Human Jess would not have been. At least I didn’t think she would have been. She’d been taken from me so long ago it was pointless thinking about it, and anyway it didn’t matter. Satyr, human or whatever I was—I wasn’t the sort of person who could separate sex from emotion. Great if it worked for others, but I couldn’t deal with it. I wanted them to stick together.

Devon hadn’t taken his eyes off me. How long had my thoughts rambled for? Worse—did he know I’d been thinking about him? He wasn’t smirking for a change. Instead his face was hungry. Predator-like.

Had he been thinking the same things?

I had to get this conversation back on track ASAP. I cleared my throat. “You said you remember your past. Why didn’t you get your memories wiped since they bother you?”

Devon’s eyebrows shot up.

Oops. Maybe I should have left that bit out, but I’d been thinking of the sadness in his voice. And, well, my mouth was functioning somewhat independently of my brain, which was still fixated on more deviant and tangible things than memories.

Gradually, the surprise faded from Devon’s expression, and he responded before I could form a less-than-coherent explanation for my poor word choice. “The change wasn’t as traumatic for me as it is for most people. Because of that, I didn’t have the same motivation to forget. I wanted to remember.”

I chewed on this a moment. Curiosity was a great antidote for unwanted lust. “Why don’t I remember it being traumatic, and why wasn’t it traumatic for you? For that matter, what’s so damn traumatic?”

“You’re full of questions tonight.”

“Like I said, nobody tells me anything. Which begs another question of why you’re suddenly being chatty, but moving on. Don’t stop now.”

“Words I’ve been wanting to hear from you.”

I flipped him off. “You’re going to tell me, right?”

He chuckled. “These are things you should know, so why not. I can’t answer the question about you. I can only guess it’s because you’re different. You don’t need addicts like we do. That’s got to be part of it. As for me, I knew what I was getting into, so I was prepared. Dezzi told me everything.”