"Turn," I requested, my voice barely above a whisper.
She did, rotating slowly to give me the full effect. The back was my favorite part of the design—the absence of fabric revealing the elegant line of her spine, the silk catching just below the dimples at the base of her back. The sight made my hands itch to trace that same path, to feel the warmth of her skin against my fingertips.
"You are breathtaking," I told her.
Her eyes met mine in the mirror. "Really?" she asked, smoothing her hands down the front of the dress. "It fits almost perfectly."
"Because you are perfect," I replied, closing the distance between us in three long strides. I stood behind her, close enough that she could feel my heat but not quite touching. "Look."
I gestured toward our reflection in the three-way mirror, together we made a striking image—beauty and beast, soft curves and hard edges.
I placed my hands on her bare shoulders, feeling her shiver at the contact. "This is only the beginning," I promised, my thumbs tracing small circles on her skin. "I want to create pieces specifically for you. Designed for your body alone."
"I'd like that," she replied.
The smile she gave me in the mirror was radiant, chasing away the last shadows of fear that had lingered since we'd left her apartment. For now, at least, she had forgotten Trevor and his threats. And that, I decided, was worth every bit of rage I was keeping carefully leashed inside me.
Chapter seven
Club Orpheus
Magnur
Idrove us deeper into the city as the sun began to set, the streets transitioning from the clean commercial district to the grittier but increasingly trendy arts district. I had been to the Orpheus Club countless times, but always alone and strictly for business.
"So who exactly is this client?" Jade asked, her fingers toyed with the hem of her dress where it rested against her thigh, drawing my eye repeatedly from the road.
"Leon Orloff," I replied, navigating around a delivery truck double-parked outside a gallery. "He's a vampire, old world. Came to this country during the first wave of supernatural immigration in the late 1800s. Opened the Orpheus Club about thirty years ago, when integration laws first passed."
"A vampire sex club owner," she mused, sounding intrigued. "And you design for him specifically?"
"For his performers," I clarified. "Leon has exacting standards for how his staff presents themselves. Everything must be perfect, durable, and unique."
I pulled into a small parking area behind one particular warehouse, unlike its neighbors, this building had a certain presence, an energy that vibrated just at the edge of perception. Protective wards, subtle but powerful, designed to discourage those who didn't belong while welcoming those who did.
"We're here," I announced, killing the engine. "Follow my lead, stay close. The clientele is varied but strictly vetted. You'll be perfectly safe, but you may see things that surprise you."
I retrieved the garment bags from the trunk, slinging them carefully over one shoulder before offering Jade my other arm. We approached the loading dock entrance, unmarked except for a small brass plaque inscribed with a simple lyre symbol, Orpheus's instrument. Standing beside it was a figure that could easily be mistaken for a particularly ambitious piece of industrial sculpture: nearly seven feet tall, with skin like polished granite and eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light. A stone golem, one of Leon's most trusted security measures.
"Magnur," the golem acknowledged, its voice like gravel shifting. "Been a while."
"Atlas." I nodded in greeting. "Delivery for Leon, plus one guest." I handed over a black card embossed with the same lyre symbol.
The golem's eyes flicked to Jade, scanning her for danger.
"She's clear," Atlas announced after a moment, returning my card and stepping aside. "Enjoy your evening."
I guided Jade through the entrance foyer into the main space, watching her reaction from the corner of my eye. Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening as she took in the club's layout. The warehouse's original open plan had been maintained, with the central area sunken slightly to create a natural performancespace. Around this central pit, plush seating areas in various configurations provided options for every preference, some open and exhibitionistic, others partially concealed by gauzy curtains or partitions.
The upper level wrapped around the main floor like a horseshoe, accessible by two curved staircases. Up there, private rooms and more intimate alcoves allowed for activities requiring additional privacy or specialized equipment. From our vantage point near the entrance, we could see most of the club's occupants, a diverse mixture of humans and non-humans in various states of dress and undress.
A pair of fauns with gilded horns reclined on a velvet chaise, their hooves draped over the edge as they fed each other jewel-like fruits. Near them, a human woman in an intricate rope harness was being suspended by a multi-armed demon. In a nearby alcove, a vampire fed delicately from a willing human's wrist while a small audience watched with varying degrees of arousal.
"Magnur, my dear friend!" A smooth cut through the ambient noise as a figure detached itself from a nearby conversation group. "Right on time, as always."
Leon Orloff appeared to be in his late forties, though I knew him to be at least four centuries old. His hair was black with distinguished silver streaks at the temples, his eyes a startling pale blue that almost glowed against his olive skin. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit with no tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal an antique pendant that doubled as his daylight amulet.
"Leon." I inclined my head in greeting.
