"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and his form stabilized, taking its final form. He was still humanoid, still beautiful in a dangerous way. "I just thought you should know what you're dealing with before you decide whether to stay."
My mouth was dry. I finished the rest of the water bottle, buying myself time to think. Every rational part of my brain was telling me to grab my shit and get out. But there was another part, a part I usually kept locked down tight, that was screaming at me to stay. To see what happened next.
"What are you?" I asked again, my voice steadier this time.
"Does it matter?" he repeated, taking a step closer. "I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me. Everything else is just details."
"Pretty big fucking details," I shot back, but I didn't move away when he closed the distance between us.
"True." His clawed hand came up to rest on my chest, right over my racing heart. Even through my soaked undershirt, his touch burned. "But you're still here."
I was still here. That was the problem.Ormaybe it wasn't a problem at all. I'd spent six months doing shit work, crawling through filth, fixing other people's messes. When was the last time I'd done something just because I wanted to? When was the last time I'd let myself have something?
"Fuck it," I muttered, and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss.
He made a sound—surprise or pleasure, I couldn't tell—and then his mouth opened under mine and I stopped thinking altogether. His lips were soft but his tongue was wrong, too long and too flexible, and it should have been horrifying but instead it was fucking incredible. He tasted like copper and honey, and when he pressed against me I could feel that he was just as hard as I was. And goddamn… his cock was huge.
My hands found their way under his shirt, needing to feel skin. He was warm, almost hot, and when I dragged my nails down his back.
“Slow down, Brad,” he said softly, his deep voice vibrating through my chest. “We’ve got all night.”
For half a second, the spell on me was broken. I pulled my hands away and took a step back. “P-Please,” I said, trying to get myself under control. “W-What are you?”
Michael shrugged, his dark skin shimmering as if it were partially covered in scales. “To put it simply, I’m a demon.”
“Like an incubus?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Not a sex demon. But I do love sex.” He reached out, running his knuckles softly down my cheek. “I’m the kind of demon that runs a bathhouse for men of all species.”
“Wait,” I said, the realization hitting me at last. “You’re the owner?”
“That’s right.”
“And your name isMichael?” I scoffed. “Bit ironic, isn’t it?”
“Okay, you’ve got me there. That’s not my real name.” I opened my mouth to ask, but he held up a hand to stop me. “You’ll never be able to pronounce it.”
I stood there staring at him for a long moment. “So… what happens now?”
“Well, I’m not going to steal your soul or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Michael chuckled. “But I will make a deal with you.”
“A deal with a demon?” I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” He placed his hand on my chest before leaning in close. “Go. Enjoy the bathhouse. And, if you still crave me, then find me before you leave. I’m sure we could makebeautifulmusic together.”
I stared at him, my heart still pounding from the kiss, from the revelation of what he actually was. A demon. I'd just made out with a fucking demon in a broken sauna. My Catholic grandmother would have had a heart attack.
"That's it?" I asked. "No strings attached?"
"None." His red eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Though I should warn you—once you've had a taste of what's out here, vanilla might not satisfy you anymore."
"I think I stopped being vanilla the second I walked through your front door," I muttered.
Michael laughed, the sound rich and warm despite his demonic form. "Go on then. Locker forty-two. Take your time." He stepped back, giving me space to leave. "And Brad? Don't be shy. Everyone here is very...friendly."
I grabbed my tool bag and practically stumbled out of the sauna, my head spinning. The hallway felt cool by comparison, and I sucked in deep breaths of the chlorine-scented air. What the fuck was I doing? This was insane. This wasbeyondinsane.
But my feet carried me back through the roman bath—where more guys were now fucking openly in the water—and then into the locker room. I found locker forty-two easily enough and opened it with the key on my wrist. Inside was nothing but a clean folded towel and a note telling me to leave everything behind.
