“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”
She must have been new to Ignareth, otherwise she would have clocked who, or ratherwhat, I was the second she saw me. “I do not, but I’m sure you’ve been expecting me. I’m here to see Kuroha.”
Her eyes widened, cheeks turning pink as she realized her mistake. Not too new, then. “A-apologies, sir. I think she’s in a meeting right now. Would you mind waiting at the bar?”
I shook my head. I could actually use a drink to brace myself for what was coming. “Not at all.”
She plastered another smile on her face, but this one didn’t meet her eyes. I followed her through dark hallway whichopened up to a vast lounge bathed in low light. Brocade drapes framed private alcoves like half-closed mouths, and black marble tables gleamed beneath flickering candlelight. The bar itself was a slab of obsidian veined with gold, bottles backlit to make their contents glow in deep reds and smoky ambers.
Soft music pulsed through the room, while omegas moved between patrons with perfected grace, adorned in expensive fabrics. It wasn’t loud or frantic like most clubs.Ripped Lacewas indulgent, expensive in the way that suggested everything here came with a price paid behind closed doors.
I sat down at the stool, taking out a roll of vaporleaf.
“Appletini,” I said to the bartender, lighting it and taking a drag.
He got to work at once, his expression blank, when I felt an unseen hand coast along my back, the seat at my right now filled by a merfolk omega in a gold, backless gown. Her coral red hair was draped elegantly over one shoulder, and manicured nails extended towards me, waiting for me to take them in my hand. “Well, you must be new, because I certainly would remember—”
“Save it,” I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m not here for you.”
When she flinched, a ghost of a whimper sounding from her throat, I realized what a dick I must have sounded like. “Sorry. What I mean is, I’m here for business, not pleasure.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” she replied, quirking an eyebrow as the bartender slid the green cocktail towards me with a small bow. “Hey Koji, can I get one of those too?”
“Coming right up, Nerine.”
I took a sip, angry that it actually tasted really good. It’d be a shame to shut down a place that actually made a decent drink.
“Kuroha’s been expecting someone to show up,” she said.
I let out a dark chuckle. “I’m sure she has been. And what, you’re some sort of distraction? A peace offering to delay my collection?”
“Well, that was Plan A. But seeing as how you’re somehow immune to my charms, I suppose I’ll have to go with Plan B.”
Nerine received her drink, and took a small sip. “Hmm, a little too sweet for my taste.”
I ignored her assessment of my favorite cocktail. “Which would be?”
“To tell you the truth.”
“The truth, or an excuse?”
Her eyes widened in sincerity, and she placed her hand on her chest. “The truth, I swear to Cethelyne.”
I swiveled in my seat, drink in hand as I leaned my back against the bar and surveyed the room. Alpha and beta Magiks sat at booths and tables, talking while omegas laughed and batted their false eyelashes, filling drinks and lighting their vaporleaf rolls. Arms went around shoulders, hands landed on knees while smiles tightened, and runics flowed like champagne as everyone bought into the fantasy that unfolded before them.
“Which is?”
“We’re losing omegas left and right.”
Smoke curled out of my nostrils. “Employee retention isn’t really our problem.”
“It should be when part of the reason we’re paying you is for protection.”
This finally got my attention. “Protection from what?”
“Mr. Oniguro, sir, I apologize for the delay.”
I turned to see an older omega demon woman, her horns curled in tight circles against her head. Jet black hair, peppered with streaks of silver and gold, was artfully pulled back in an elaborate updo, her modest, garnet dress fitted just enough to complement her shape.
