“What's so funny?”
Oops, was I laughing out loud?!
I can just imagine her irritated look.
I check the pink shade of my brand-new nails. I love the little red heart detail on the side. Cinzia really is the best!
Ugh… I really liked this manicure…
I can't believe I'll have to change it soon because one of my best friends refuses to participate in an event I was already totally sure she wouldn't attend.
Still two weeks earlier, but a few days later.
The red lights of The Aureum soften everything: bodies, secrets, bad decisions.
I stop in front of the full-length mirror, the one framed in brass that reflects my image as "biological hazard to male self-control."
Just one glass of champagne and I already feel light-headed, that warm prickle in my stomach that makes me laugh inside for no reason. I can't hold my liquor. Never could. And tonight… well, I have no intention of holding back. I need to deliver a final kick in the ass to that jerk, Joe.
I never really believed in our “relationship,” anyway. And now, I’ve had more than enough of his mediocre sex and his bullshit. Now he can definitely hook up with whoever he wants without hiding.
I adjust my wings. The white feathers are large, soft, arched high over my shoulders: when I move, they displace air like a sigh. There’s no elastic—I had them custom-made. Cupid is not a shelf costume.
The bodysuit is red—not candy apple red: vein-under-skin red. Lace climbs high over my hips, two satin bows on the sides, a sheer panel over my stomach that hides nothing and, in fact, claims every inch. Bare legs, gleaming with dry oil. Strawberry gloss, winged liner, decent mascara. Nails matched, but I decided to redo the heart detail… I liked it too much. Vanilla and amber perfume trails behind me.
I smile at my reflection. “Temptation,” I murmur to myself. The little heart winks at me.
I wander around the room for a while, but unfortunately, no one catches my attention.
Dominic? He’s hot as hell, but he doesn't seem interested in anything but his mission.
Too bad.
Everyone else looks like an idiot.
But then my hazy mind reminds me that I saw Dominic talking to someone tonight. And he was definitely a non-human descended to earth.
I make a round of the hall until I see him far from the crowd.
Black on black, Lucifer made man: dark pants, a chain around his neck, black wings more theatrical than realistic. Brown hair, a little long and carefully messy, a jawline that could open letters, shoulders wide enough to make me want to climb them. Have I never seen him?… No, come on. Maybe I have? My brain tries to connect the dots, but the champagne has turned it into confetti.
He's gorgeous. He's dangerous. He's exactly the type I should be talking to right now.
I've caught his attention, too. He looks at me like he wants to strip me right here and now. I walk closer; I usually like to make the first move.
“What is it, Lucifer?” I try to pull out the most sensual voice the alcohol allows me. “Do you already regret your fall from Heaven?”
He sizes me up as if I’ve just promised him sacrilege. “My original plan was toownHeaven.”
I offer a crooked smile. A cheap line. But he says it as if he genuinely believes it.
Besides… with those abs and those black wings? He could say anything, really. Or keep his mouth completely shut.
I circle him like a distracted cat, my wings brushing his arm. I feel his muscles tighten under the fabric.
This club is my favorite stage: glass, brass, velvet, glitter, and champagne.
Elegant and forbidden.
