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nicest dictator on the planet. “Fettered has formally invited all of us to attend their charity ball at the end of the month. It’s at a swanky hotel, with a romance theme, although that probably means something a little different than it would if we were in charge of decorating. Ari says to think evening gowns. Silk and satin and classy sex.”
    Leo grins. “I totally have an evening gown like that.”
    The paper airplane I throw at his head doesn’t miss.
    He throws it back and blows me a kiss. “Sam and I will be there.”
    Meghan’s shaking her head. “I think I’ll be taking that week off. We don’t have any weddings, and I need a break.”
    Nobody points out that a charity ball isn’t work. She isn’t as easy with the energy of Fettered as the rest of us, and that needs to be okay. I like that nobody’s pushing her. That’s how edges start drawing blood.
    “Well, um.” Gabby looks shy, and more than a little flustered, but determined. “I think I’d like to go. If someone can help me figure out what to wear.”
    Leo’s hand is in the air before she finishes her sentence.
    I keep my hand down, because I shouldn’t be dressing anyone, but I’m glad he’s going to help. He’ll make sure she doesn’t show up looking like she wants to be gobbled. Although anyone who tries is probably going to have to run a gantlet of big, bad Doms. Gabby might not need a keeper, but she’s got a shit-ton of volunteers.
    Emily turns to me and raises an eyebrow. I nod, because of course I’ll go. I’ll have fun, even if I’ll die before I slide this bod into an evening gown. But I’m also feeling sandpapered. This is an easy choice for me. Showing up to a Fettered dance might be Gabby’s edge, but it’s not mine. It’s me hanging out on the sidelines again, inhaling someone else’s smoke, just like I do when I watch grape farmers at weddings.
    I’m a tourist in way too many lifestyles.
    Leo moves to the chair beside me as the other three head out of the room. “So, who’s the guy?”
    I raise an eyebrow and put on the poker face that kept me solvent on way too many road trips. “Who says there’s a guy?”
    He snickers. “Okay, who’s the girl?”
    I roll my eyes. “Been there, tried that, got evicted from the island.”
    He picks up his laptop, stands up, and blows me a kiss. “Fine, don’t share.”
    I can’t, not yet. There’s a guy I have to go talk to first.
    Again.

Chapter Ten

Harlan
    I close the door behind me and finish locking up. I love being the last one out, putting the club to bed for the night and strolling home at an hour when pretty much everyone else is sleeping.
    I can feel the chill in the wind on my cheeks. The first touches of winter, or what passes for it here in Seattle, anyhow. I grin at the door handle. Standing here thinking poetic shit in the middle of the night is a sure sign I need to get laid.
    “Hey.”
    The voice behind me activates every nerve I have, and that’s before I register that it’s Scorpio and not some thug who wants to crack me over the head and steal my wallet. Some really high, blind, stupid thug. Nobody even a little bit sane tries to rob a guy with as much ink and muscle as I have.
    I apparently don’t scare the woman leaning against the tree, though. “It’s not smart to walk the streets alone at night.”
    She’s got her poker face on. “I don’t need a protector.”
    I need to be one, but that’s a fight we can have later. I’m way more interested in why she’s here. “How long have you been out here?” We have club hours, but respect for those hours is a totally different thing—and the middle-of-the-night time is my favorite. Scenes are done, newbies have gone home, and I get to take off my manager hat and enjoy the people who are the core of my world.
    “Not long.” Scorpio hasn’t moved from her tree. “Want to take a walk?”
    “Yeah.” I punch the final codes into the door alarm system and hold out my hand. “Which way