Disrespectful men got dragged by the balls.
They shoved against my wrists and screamed as we went, though it was in vain. Being dead had its perks. Preternatural strength was one of them.
“Miz’ Ivy,” smiled our enforcer, Jamal, as I approached with the offenders.
“Bruiser,” I stopped and bowed as low as my hold would allow. “How’s my favorite doorman tonight?”
Dickhead’s One and Two had stopped screaming and proceeded to stage two of man meat trauma: gagging.
“Not as good as my favorite full time stripper, part time club cooler it would seem.” Brisk air rolled in through the door as he held it open for me.
I tipped my head in thanks before throwing both men down the four steps. Their broken cries as they laid on the filthy pavement was the biggest dopamine boost I’d had all night.
My heels echoed off the decaying masonry as I hit the steps and stooped down to their level. “The next time you come into my club, make sure you have both your manners and your behaviors in check before paying the door fee.”
My words didn’t feel like they carried enough weight to convince them how serious I was. So, in a shocking display of lewd behavior, I gathered all of the saliva I could muster and spit on them both.
Okay, so maybe not so shocking. I was born with manners, but I wasn’trebornwith them.
I went back inside and closed the door behind me, patting myself on the back for a job well done.
Good job, Dany. You showed so much restraint by making a scene instead of killing them!
“Did it have to be the family jewels?” Jamal asked with one hand cradling his own rubies.
“Play stupid games,” I shrugged, searching for a shred of remorse for their balls on Jamal’s behalf to no avail.
“Win stupid prizes,” Jamal finished with a laugh.
A scratchy, sarcastic voice repeated that phrase in my head and it was hard to contain the fondness that followed it.
“I knew an old Cajun bat once who said that men who test boundaries don’t have any.”
“Oh yeah? Is she single?”
I had to hide my smile as I walked away. “You couldn’t handle her, Jamal.” The idea of Barb, my ancient undead neighbor with a knack for psychological torture, courting our twenty-something, sweet as pie bouncer disguised as a bruiser was as comical as Virgin Mary, Joseph, and God starring on the Jerry Springer show.
I didn’t look back as I rejoined the chaos inside.
The girls had returned to their stations and the strip club was running in full swing. Erections in every direction, booze and body butter floating on the rackety air conditioning breeze, and—
A deep, rolling laugh sent electricity crackling over my skin and seized the breath in my lungs. It was a laugh that haunted the entirety of my afterlife, invaded my dreams, and clouded my goddamn thoughts in the most unsolicited manner.
“Dearest, Dany,” he hummed my real name with a lilt. “I thought you’d never come.”
My pulse spiked, anticipatory exhilaration laced with a healthy dose of fear and a humiliating hunger he’d bred into my bones long before tonight.
I don’t know why my body reacted that way. I knew I’d be seeing him soon.
Every year on my Death Day, Lucifer Morningstar rode in on a frost-thickened fog to wrap his hands around the soft parts of my will and twist until I ended up on my knees in front of him. And not even for fun shit. More likekissing his perfectly shined shoes.
I steadied myself with a slow inhale before turning to face the Devil. He was seated in a corner booth where the lights never quite touched with one hand draped elegantly around a lowball glass. I forced bravado into the sway of my hips as I approached, like maybe if I could convince myself I was unfazed by his surprise visit, I could make him believe it too.
“Luci,” I said with an exaggerated cheer as I sat beside him. “If you worked a little harder, maybe it wouldn’t take so long for me to get there.”
Whatever,spoke a traitorous voice inside.He’d have you panting like a bitch in heat and ready to come before he’d loosened the top button of his freshly ironed shirt.
Lucifer’s lip quirked.
