“Okay.” She couldn’t take her eyes off his stunning face. No wonder he’s full of himself.
Kester pulled down the strap of her gown, then her pink bra strap. The cool cabin air tickled her skin. He pressed his palm flat against her shoulder. He closed his eyes, chanting in his strange language. A glorious, tingling heat pulsed from his fingertips over her skin, caressing her neck. The heat moved slowly, whispering around her throat, slipping lower over her breasts before pulsing down her abdomen. Was it her imagination, or was his thumb moving slowly up and down on her lower back, lazily stroking her skin through her silk dress? A hot, euphoric thrill seeped into her body, blazing through her core, and she fought the urge to press herself against his strong body. Molten power ignited her veins, and she felt a smile curl her lips. I’m back.
Kester opened his eyes, gazing down at her. “Better?” His thumb still languidly stroked her lower back, and she could feel herself arching into him.
Her eyes lingered on his perfect lips, and for just a moment, she considered kissing him—before she reminded herself that a) he was an entitled wanker most of the time, b) Zee’s unconscious body lay just a few feet away, and c) his nickname was “the Headsman.” Probably not a good idea to kiss someone named for an executioner.
She rolled her neck. “I feel amazing. I’m ready to find this incubus.”
Chapter 27
Kester crossed his room, pulling open a drawer in a small, wooden dresser. He took out a black sweater, slipped it over his chiseled torso. “There’s a little problem with our plan.”
“What?”
“I have no idea where to find Abrax. He’s an ancient and powerful incubus. He dwells in Nyxobas’s Manhattan lair, and I have no idea—”
“I know where he was going.”
Pulling on a pair of grey trousers, he shot her a sharp look. “He told you?”
“He mentioned a place called Oberon’s. Something about wanting to bring me there as a pet.”
Kester curled back his lip in a snarl.
“Do you know what it is?”
“No, I was hoping you might.”
“It’s a private club for the fae. Unfortunately, they have a strict door policy, enforced by ancient and powerful magic even I can’t manipulate. You can only get in if a fairy gives you explicit permission.” He nodded at Zee. “And she’s the only fae I know. Obviously, Abrax is connected.”
Ursula shook her head, the guilt pressing on her chest like a rock. “If Abrax is as elusive as you say, I’m not letting this lead get away.” It was her fault Zee’s soul was missing. If she hadn’t screwed up her first mission with her off-putting personality, none of this would have happened. And, of course, if F.U. hadn’t carved the mark in the first place, Zee would be sipping a champagne cocktail in Club Lalique right now. “There must be someone you can bribe.”
“The fae aren’t interested in money.”
“Are you serious? Have you ever been shopping with Zee?”
“She’s an exception—she’s a solitary fairy. Most of the fae in New York are part of Oberon’s court, and have all the wealth they could possibly desire.”
“Oberon’s court. That’s where we’re going? Some sort of fairy realm?”
“Yes. And Oberon is their king.” He slipped into a pair of shoes. “Maybe we can catch Abrax coming in or out. It’s our best chance.”
“But he had a huge head start.” She closed her eyes, trying to think of all the times she and Katie had sneaked into clubs in London when they couldn’t afford the entry fee. They’d usually asked a bartender or waiter they knew to add them to the list. “Are there staff there? A hostess you could charm?”
Kester paced across the floor like a caged animal. “We won’t be able to talk to them until we get in. It’s in another dimension. The only way in is through magic we can’t control.”
Another dimension? Bloody hell. “Well, how does Zee’s hairstylist get in? Luis? She said something about how he’s always there with redheads.”
Kester stopped pacing, and his green eyes flicked to hers. “Tell me about him.”
She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t know much, except that he’s slightly creepy and into gingers.”
“How big is he?”
“Big. Muscular. About your size.”
Kester rubbed a hand over his chin. “He might be fae.”
“What would a fae be doing cutting hair, if they’re infinitely wealthy?” She touched her lips. “Though you did say they’re hedonists—and he was a little too fond of massaging my hair. He leaned down and sniffed it at one point. I did think that was odd.”
“Exactly. Fae have their own particular earthly pleasures that excite them. For some it’s food, for some it’s sex. And for Luis, apparently, it’s hair.”
“I’ll call him.”