The bulky man in all black before me cleared his throat, reminding me he’d just asked for the password.
I blushed. “Daphne.”
At a flash of movement behind him, my eyes blew wide. Three nuns in simple white robes and veils followed closely behind a tall, ice-blond man in all black. Their features were beautiful and serene. He took position in the center of the aisle, and the three nuns fell to their knees before him, arms extended as if in prayer.
My body behaved irregularly at the sight. There was a sudden awareness of the space between my thighs, an ache developing against my will that was both mental and physical.
The doors behind me opened and closed.
“It’s reassuring to see not everyone in your generation has abandoned religion,” a familiar voice said.
My shoulders rose an inch. Because of course Wes would enter right behind me, again. The bouncer was as unamused byhis joke as I was. Wes didn’t need to act like he was old enough to be my father. In man years, he was, like, twenty-three.
“Password?” the bouncer asked.
“Daphne,” Wes said, and I almost perished of embarrassment on the spot.
“What’s wrong with your face?” he asked.
“That is so rude.” I huffed. “I just hoped they’d eliminated you by now.”
He chuckled. I tried and failed not to stare at him in his evening wear—a perfectly tailored black jacket and pants paired with sleek ankle boots. His attire was in striking contrast to his vibe from orientation and how he looked when I saw him at the diner. The only source of edginess that remained were the tattoos on his knuckles and peeking out from beneath his dark dress shirt. On the right side of his neck crawled a snake, and on the left, a snake skeleton.
I swallowed.
Goddammit. He looked good. Way too good. Since when did woodworkers dress like that? Or could evenaffordto dress like that?
When Wes gave me the same double take I’d given him, I watched the way his pupils dilated and jaw flexed.
I was in a little black dress I’d found at a thrift store, just revealing enough to be flirty but classic enough to retain elegance. I’d wrangled my unruly dark waves with a glob of curl gel, and I’d applied winged eyeliner, shimmery brown eye shadow, and a bold berry lipstick. When I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my way out, something looked different, something that was hard to place.
I looked… powerful. More powerful than I felt.
Wes and I looked away at the same time, but I could still feel his gaze like a brand on my neck.
Back in the nave, the kinky nuns and their Master were gone.
“Phones, please,” our new attendant said. “They will be kept secure and returned to you when you leave.”
I begrudgingly handed mine over, ignoring Hudson’s previous warning to never do such a thing. To be fair, it wasn’t the strangest of requests. I’d had to lock my phone in a pouch at comedy shows before.
“Didn’t bring one,” Wes said, patting his pockets for effect.
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?” Who the hell didn’t bring their phone out with them?
The bouncer stared at him for two beats before turning. “Follow me.” He led us into the holy space.
Wes smirked, meeting my bewildered gaze. “What’s wrong? Does it send your delicate Zoomer mind into a panic imagining a night without your second brain on your hip for backup?”
“Zoomer,” I scoffed, ignoring his lazy jab. “Being a millennial isn’t the flex you think it is.”
I jumped when another figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere—the receptionist from before. She barely acknowledged us as she sped through the nave, clipboard to her chest.
“You’re making that face again,” Wes whispered.
“Because she is my enemy.”
Amusement colored his features. He was walking too close to me, like we weretogether. Or fake-together, like he’d propositioned in the diner.
