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He’s attractive, willing, and talented. I’m horny. Who cares? Screw sensible, remember?
    Let’s be reckless , whispered Blaze in my memory, and relief spiked hard that he hadn’t waited a few more hours to hit on me.
    I swallowed, uncomfortable sympathy buzzing my blood. “If you’re asking if that felt good, honey, the answer’s fuck yes. Feel my pulse, I’m still shakin’ here. That ain’t vodka all over your hand. Whatever she told you, you’re a real hot shag, okay?”
    “She said she liked it.” A crease tainted his handsome brow, and his hot black eyes clouded sky blue.
    My pulse rippled. No, you don’t, cutie. Too late to back off now. No way are we losing this mood over some absent demon-tricking orgasm-faking screw-with-your-mind bitch. She isn’t here. I am.
    I trailed suggestive fingers into his lap, where he’d by no means lost that impressive hard-on. I stroked, and he closed his eyes, ash dusting his pretty golden lashes. I leaned forward to whisper in his ear and flexed my legs around him, flicking out my wings in a puff of yellow dust so I wouldn’t fall. “Everything feels just fine to me. But maybe I’d better check you out properly just to make sure. Y’know, see where it fits and all. Make sure it tastes right.” I nuzzled his throat, his stormy scent breaking bumps out on my scalp. “Wanna go somewhere and give it a try? I promise not to fake it . . . if you’ll promise I won’t need to.”
    Shiver. Did I just deal with a demon?
    Too late. He fingered my nipple, teasing, stabbing anticipation deep into my body, and when he opened his eyes, they glinted black and hard once more. “You’ll tell me if you like it.”
    He pinched, and pleasure spiked harder. I arched to press my breast into his hand, searching for more, delight and pride warming my skin along with desire. Ice, you’ve done okay. “Honey, if you do it right, you’ll hear all about it.”
    T he mezzanine, green neon smoke glowing. Needle freaks and sparkle sniffers sprawl on the rippled steel floor, lost in chemical contentment or rage. In the corner, a skinny girl sprawls on her back, crooning in pleasure as a pair of vampire boys feed, one at her naked breast, the other between her legs, her skirt scrunched high. Next to her, a drooling black spriggan crouches and slams his misshapen head into the wall, over and over, violet blood smearing. People dance, drink, screw, pass out, and at the pitted steel railing, a razor-nerved fairy named Ebony stretches tense dark arms in the urgent thud of bass.
    The sultry air swims on his skin, delicious. The familiar smells wash over him, sweat and fresh lust and the rich iron honey of blood, creamy longing, dusty loneliness, the sharp salt of fury and bitter oblivion. His pale wings spread, twitched by his speeding pulse. What a beautiful night to be alive.
    He stretches again, blood rippling warm and alive in his limbs, and leans over the rail to hunt.
    Below, where dancers throng and strobe lights crack the air like glass, the yellow fairy girl flirts on a jealous demon lord’s lap, her gasps as he pleasures her inaudible from here but beautiful.
    “Ice.” The sibilant tingles Ebony’s tongue, pleasant. Her skin would do the same. The clumsy one, always falling over her own feet and biting her tongue on careless words. Indigo’s girl, if you ask anyone but Indigo. Poor frightened thing, always so serious. More charming when she’s drunk and carefree.
    He’s watched her dance with her toxic friends, blush and fidget under Indigo’s glance, pour pink poison down her throat to steel her nerves. He feels for her, this frightened girl. He knows what it’s like to dread the gaze of others, their accusations, their contempt. And now she’s squirming breathless on a demon’s lap with no thought or care. Beautiful, unfettered thing.
    The demon lord tucks her hand in his elbow and walks her away, and Ebony giggles, imagining Indigo’s envy. He knows Indigo well, after so