My jaw tenses as I stare at her, and she flashes me an apologetic grimace. “It’s neutral ground. Humans, monsters—”
“It’s a fucking hookup club, Ego!”
“Oh, that’s being dramatic,” she says with a scoffing wave of her hand. “Just because it’s where you tried to hook up a few times doesn’t mean that’s all that happens there. The bar is great, the dance floor is awesome, and more importantly, no one is going to look twice at him for being there.”
My teeth grind as I glance around the room again.
She’s right.
Military wouldn’t be caught dead there, and it’s a known neutral ground. Cause a scene or have words with someone? You’re out. The owners are a monster and human couple, and they don’t allow it.
Filthy hookups in the individual bathrooms, though?
Those they allow.
“When did he leave?” I demand.
She glances outside. “Half an hour ago?”
I charge past her and head straight for the door. The entire ten-block walk to the rear of the district is a blur, and my pulse thumps harder as heavy drums ring through the air.
Zaya’s is a warehouse that’s nearly against the city walls. Faint light floats from the open rafters, and the music is intense, full of bass and growling lyrics. I don’t recognize the name of the band written on the board outside, and I’ve got my blinders on as the bouncers wave me in.
My eyes move down the long bar on one end, skimming the heads in search of his white hair, but I don’t find him there. The dance floor is crowded with a sea of people all moving in time to the music, and I push into the mix, craning my neck and swiveling my head in every direction. Too many dancing bodies thud against mine, and more than one hand grabs at my arm or shirt in an attempt to reel me in.
The longer I search, the hotter my temper flares, and as I dodge another couple, a flash of white stands before me.
Xeni dances with his head thrown back, always so graceful in the way he moves. Shoulders and hips in perfect time with the beat, sweat forming a sheen on his forehead.
I take a step forward, then freeze as I spot the other man.
They aren’t touching, but the distance is so minuscule they might as well be. He’s human—a tall, lanky thing with a mop of wavy brown hair—and where Xeni’s visible eye is closed, the human’s are open.
And they arestarvingfor what’s mine.
My feet move before I process what I’m doing. I’m not the aggressive type, and have always settled problems with words and logic, not fists and weapons.
But tell that to my hands as they slam into the human’s shoulders and knock him back into the group dancing behind him.
“Hey, what the fuck?” he shouts as he fights to regain his footing.
I jut my chin and take another step closer. “Keep your hands to your fucking self,” I snarl, ready to charge him when someone grabs my arm.
I whirl to find Xeni, his lips parted and cheeks flushed.
So perfectly fuckable, with his hair billowing around him in the faint light.
“Bash?”
I snatch his wrist and yank him closer. “You’re coming with me.”
He follows behind me as I lead him through the throngs of people. A few amused glances flick in our direction as I all but drag him toward the bathrooms, and I pull him inside and slam the door closed.
The music becomes muffled as I turn and push his shoulders until he hits the wall, and his gaze doesn’t leave mine. He doesn’t even blink as I press myself against him.
“Did he touch you?” I demand.
Xeni’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes his head and asks, “Who?”
