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I glared. “Have you ever heard the expression, to the hammer, everything is a nail?”

“I’d nail him.”

“No, I mean . . . Well, yes, actually that’s my point! Ugh, wait, look, I don’t . . .” I shook his tail free of my sleeve and stepped back. “It’s not me. He has some kind of power. It’s distracting.” It definitely wasn’t my doing. I didn’t do sex. It was too . . . dangerous.

“Yeah, it’s called Fucking Hot, and it’s good ol’ fashioned human, gagging-for-cock lust. Look, I’ve known you for six months, and in that time you’ve resisted my every single daily attempt to get between your legs. And I might be a touch offended that the first time your cock twitches, it’s for Victor Fuck-Hard, but since I’d tap that as fast as you can say spank me, I’m not one to judge.” He backed off, examining his nails as though none of this mattered. “Even if he is a monumental prick, and not the fun kind.” But his tail wrung itself, getting all knotted and thrashy, which meant his words weren’t as flippant as he made them sound. “I bet he eats raspberries with a fork,” he grumbled.

Raspberries? What? Trying to follow Zee’s train of thought was sometimes like trying to wrestle an octopus. It was clear, however, Lord Reynard raised Zee’s hackles. “What did he say to you? On the steps?”

“Huh? Meh. Nothing.”

“Never mind.” And it wasn’t that I didn’t want Zee, it was more I couldn’t. “We’re business partners, if we start . . . you know . . .” I gestured, trying to push my fingers together suggestively.

“Finger-fucking each other?” He tilted his head. “Is that what that is?”

I dropped my attempt to mime sex. “Look, I . . . It’s not important right now. I’ll talk to the bartender, okay? See how long Reynard was in the bar for.” And as Reynard had been more than clear he didn’t want to speak with Zee, it was best I went to the bar. Zee could do cleanup. “Can you maybe . . . get rid of the body?”

He rolled his eyes, and rippled his nails at the body. “Kitten, human disposal is not in my contract.”

We didn’t technically have contracts. “Please?”

“Fine,” he huffed. “But only because you’re my favorite human. Tell anyone I did this, and it opens a whole can of complicated worms regarding my capabilities, when it’s so much simpler being the demon who sucks cock for cash.”

“A valid career, but one you won’t be pursuing in our hotel, remember,” I reminded him, as I headed out the door.

“I’ll suck yours for free, Lover,” he called.

I hit the elevator button and stepped inside. Zee was joking. He didn’t really want to do that. It was just his language, lust demon and all. People used him and tossed him away. Humans and Lost Ones alike, they all paid Zee to get off. I wasn’t like that.

When I’d found him, thrown away like trash in a rough part of San Francisco, I’d offered him a deal. Help fix up this old hotel, and I’d make it so he never had to do anything he didn’t want to while under its roof.

We’d shaken on it right there, snapped nails and all. So the wards, based on consent, were just as important to him as they were to me.

Some habits were hard to break, but we were getting there. If I accepted Zee’s flippant offers of sexual favors, how different was I to everyone else who screwed him? No. It couldn’t happen. We respected each other too much for that, and our focus needed to be on the hotel, not banging each other against a wall. Even if I had wondered what it would feel like to have his wickedly talented, possibly extendable tongue wrapped around very hard and hungry parts of me. I wasn’t completely stone cold and without . . . urges. My racing pulse around Reynard was proof of that.

“Never going to happen,” I told the empty elevator as it counted down the floors. Zee and I had too much of a good thing going to mess it up with sex, and besides, I couldn’t let anyone get that close. Not even someone I trusted as much as I did Zee. For his own safety.

Tom Collins was behind the bar—in his default pose, drying a glass. Curiously though, Reynard wasn’t here, where I’d told him to be. “Where’s Victor Reynard?”

“What am I, his PA?” Tom replied.

Oh yes, I’d forgotten Tom was difficult. “Do you ever answer a question without a heavy dose of sarcasm?”

“Which one of us read my manual?”

“Ugh.” This was going to be more exhausting than I’d hoped for, and it wasn’t even ten thirty yet. At least Reynard wasn’t here, so I could ask Tom questions without him overhearing. Maybe he’d left. Would he tell everyone about the dead body in his room?

“Whiskey?”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Then why are you at the bar?”

“Okay, fine.”

“There he is, the Adam Vex I know.” He poured a whiskey with a flourish. “You look as though you’ve had a rough day. A problem shared is a problem halved.”

“Except you’re stuck behind that bar and can’t physically help with anything.”