"The door is to your right," I snipped, even as I railed at myself on the inside. What are you doing? You're mad at Fin, but you don't hate him. Don't do this.
"You think you're chasing me away, but you're not. I know you better than that, Thea Hunt." Fin reached up and took hold of my long, dark braid, rubbing the ebony hair between his fingers. His smile was slightly crooked, mischievous. Like a fucking fox. He even had a vulpine face with a wide but sexy mouth, pointed chin, and well-defined cheekbones. The air was perfumed with the sweet scent of wet earth and leaves, fox pheromones. "We're destined to be, Thea."
Fin leaned down suddenly, like he thought he might steal a kiss. I danced out of the way and then backed toward the door, opening it wide.
"Out," I said, turning my attention away so Fin wouldn't see how tempted I was to push him down on the couch and ride him. "Go. I will contact you when Revel Jones shows up."
"Revel Jones?" Fin asked, drawing my gaze away from the wall and over to his face. "The mail-order bride." He answered his own question and then reached long fingers up to rake through his rust-brown hair. "Inviting some strange girl into town to mate? It's not going to turn out the way you think it is, Thea."
Fin stormed past me, the smell of cinnamon and cloves trailing along in his wake.
He slammed the door so hard that one of Chris' porn—I mean art prints fell off the wall, the glass shattering to pieces as Ziff trilled a wild cry of pain and fluffed his tail in front of my face. I pushed it aside and then stepped forward to lock the door.
If Fin were to come back and kick it down, maybe I wouldn't be able to control myself next time?
Chris let out another scream and I rolled my eyes.
"Fucking addicts," I cursed, sweating and shaking, my heart pounding. I reached up a hand to stroke Ziff's fur, putting pressure on his back to comfort him. Like I have room to talk about addiction, look at me. Shaking my head, I moved into the kitchen to grab supplies for the predictably shitty day I was doing to be having: an ice pack, some water, a granola bar, and … bottles of Chris' best sake and plum wine. Those last two things, though, those were for me.
Fae-Bitch owed me.
The next morning, I was in a predictably bad mood, and Chris was flouncing around the apartment like he wasn't recovering from a comedown but actually still high on his drug of his choice.
"Chin up, girl, we made it through the worst of it!" he chortled, completely and utterly naked and sporting a fully manicured and flaccid penis that I had less than zero interest in. He curled his wings around his shoulders and gave me his best doe-eyed look.
"You fucked up bad," I said, sitting up from the couch and groaning. Sleeping in skinny jeans sucked serious ass. Why hadn't I taken them off before crashing? "You relapsed and you want to act like it doesn't mean shit?"
"You and Fin have so much chemistry," he purred, moving into the living room and putting his penis right at about eye level. With a groan, I leaned back into the decorative unicorn and rainbow pillows and tried not to love Chris so much for being a super gay cliché. He always joked and told me I was urban-fantasy-cliché. Guess we both embodied our own special little corners of the universe, right?
"I can't believe you keep in touch with my ex." Ziff curled in a ball on my chest and then meticulously went about cleaning between his tiny toes.
"Exes," Fae-Bitch ventured and I closed my eyes. "I was going to tell you," he continued as I grabbed Ziff and rolled toward the back of the couch, knowing I should be infuriated with this man right now. It was hard though, when he basically glittered as he walked. Chris was too peppy and upbeat to be mad at. "Anyway, when we first met, you were still toying with the idea of going back to the Earth. The boys always came around looking for you, and well, shit, Thea-Pea, friends are rare in this world. I take 'em where I can get 'em."
"Riot and Fin are bisexual, why don't you date them?" I murmured into a pillow with a rhinestone phallus on it. No joke. It was a shimmery penis pillow. "Because I'm done with them. I want to go out and get laid, forget all about them."
"Why don't you call Mik—" Chris started, but I quickly stifled that by stabbing him with the heel of my stiletto boot. I'd gotten a bit too drunk last night and forgotten to even take off my damn shoes. Some fox I was. I was so separated from mother earth, I might as well be human. "Fine, why don't you nap on the couch for a bit …" I let Fae-Bitch wrangle my boots off and toss them to the floor. "I'll start my beautification routine, and we'll go out tonight. A shifter bar, just for you."
"I hate shifter bars," I murmured, although I felt my heart rate pick up speed just a tad at the thought. There were dozens of shifter bars in Denver, some of them catering to specific species, others an eclectic mix. Since there we few kitsune left in the world, we didn't exactly have a place of our own. There was a kitsune-only club in Tokyo, but that was about it.
"Well, you might hate shifter bars, but you also need shifter ass. Let's just go out and find you some tail." Chris tugged on one of my nine tails with a chuckle, and I kicked him with my bare foot. "Sleep, bitch, and I'll wake you up in a few hours."
"I have surveillance to do," I murmured as Chris slapped my leather-clad ass and sashayed down the hallway. I fully intended to get up, but then he put on Glamazon by RuPaul and … well, screw it. Curling up tighter around Ziff, I swished my tails and then fell promptly asleep.
"Girl, get up and hop in the shower. Nobody wants a dirty pussy." Chris rolled me over and picked Ziff up, lifting up a small plum for the fennec fox to nibble on. "I already picked out an outfit for you. It's in the bathroom. Go."
With a groan, I sat up and realized how dark it was outside.
Shit.
Snatching my phone off the coffee table—which I'd thoroughly disinfected last night—I checked and found several messages from Mikhail.
"Crap," I grumbled, opening my texts and staring at the finality of his last message, that ominous period at the end of his sentence. Call me back now. But I didn't like being bullied by Riot and Fin, and I wasn't going to let Mik do the same. He was my employer, sure, but I deserved time for myself, too, and I didn't have any specific orders just now. I had every right to go out if I wanted to.
"Let's go," Fae-Bitch said, his wings shining in the yellow lamplight. He was dressed in full drag, and probably a lot prettier than I was going to look. "If you hurry, maybe I can do your makeup?"
I stood up with a sigh and stared at my phone once more before turning it off.
Mikhail was going to be pissed.
But I was going out, and I'd be damned if he was going to stop me.
Split Skin was just about the worst name for a club I'd ever heard in my life, but the grungy, animalistic quality of the place drew crowds like no other shifter joint in the city. As soon as I set foot in there, I knew I was in trouble.
The entire place reeked of sex pheromones, and I felt a hot thrill chase across my skin, like the tips of a lover's fingers.
"Chris," I said, batting my heavy false lashes and wondering why I'd let him doll me up like this. Makeup, I loved. Who doesn't want to get painted every now and then? And my morning ritual always included a pop of color on the lips, and a bit of shadow. But right now? It wasn't clear who was the drag queen between me and Fae-Bitch.
"Kitty girl," he purred in my ear, "it's Vixen tonight, remember?" With a smile, he swayed his way down the steps and abandoned me at the top of a short set of stairs, the crowded room laid out before me in sinful layers of sex.
I'm in trouble.
The second my eyes met the pale blue ones of a man sitting at the bar, I knew I was screwed. Or was going to get to screwed. My nipples pebbled and I reached up to flick my braid over my shoulder … only to remember that Chris had fluffed and curled and hair sprayed it to high hell.