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“Wrath & Ruin is not a demon club.” Roxie spun and shimmied her hips. “It’s for everyone. Humans don’t even know they’re hanging out with nightworlders.”
I gave her a dry look. “And the high demon lord of Savannah just happens to own it?”
She shrugged. “Semantics.”
Entering Wrath & Ruin was like stepping into a cave somewhere in another realm, maybe even the Underworld. Lights danced over the stalactites dripping from the lower ceilings along the outskirts of the club. Violet, indigo, and black geodes spotted the sitting areas, and an actual waterfall flowed into a pond.
I wouldn’t be surprised if a secret chamber where people engaged in illicit activity existed behind the flowing sheet of water. Probably lots of orgies. More VIP areas took up the second level where a balcony overlooked the dance floor, and a few demons leaned against the stone and steel railing.
“I’m going to get us some drinks.” Hawk flashed a dimpled smile before moving toward the bar, a long slab of stone that jutted out of the ground.
Why did he have to look so damn good in a white t-shirt and jeans? I could just take a bite out of him.
As his broad form traveled to the left of the club, a flash of hot pink darted after him.Fucking Kourtney.Had she decided to pursue Hawk just to piss me off?
“You should have worn a dress.” Roxie tugged at a belt loop on my jeans and then poked my bare midriff. “At least you’re showingsomeskin.”
Dresses were not my thing. She was lucky I donned tight jeans and a crop top instead of cargo pants and a t-shirt. I’d rather not be vulnerable in a dress around a bunch of nightworlders.
Roxie’s fingers cinched around my wrist to snatch my attention, her gaze trained on the second-floor balcony. “The talk about Lord Ruin Bacchus does not do him justice.” She slowly licked her lips. “That man is sex on a stick.”
“He’s not a man. He’s a high demon.” The lord and owner of the club stood about a foot from the railing, casually sipping on a blue cocktail. Navy hair, shaved on the sides and long on top, fell across his forehead, brushing one of his sharp cheekbones. Tattoos covered most of what wasn’t hidden beneath the ebony suit hugging his tall, lean frame. Not his face, though. That remained untouched by ink and utterly flawless.
Most high demons could pass as models—until they got angry or hungry and revealed the real monster beneath.
“I don’t give a damn what he is,” Roxie said, flicking her ponytail. “I heard he’s a sex god, and I’d lie on an altar to sacrifice my body to him.”
I sneered and stepped to the right as a female fae slinked by. “I’d rather die than ever get into bed with a nightworlder, especially a demon.”
As one of the highest-ranking creatures in the city, Lord Ruin ruled over most of Savannah’s nightworlder population, except shifters. A million rumors swirled about the demon, and they either involved his sexual prowess or his affinity for inflicting pain and torture.
Most demons had a love for torture.
The demon in question took another sip of his cocktail and angled his head, the strobe lights glinting on the row of piercings running down his ear. His electric-blue eyes roamed the crowd, and I tensed, waiting for them to land on me, but someone approached him and pulled his attention away.
“I’d go up there and talk to him, but I’m pretty sure you have to be invited.” Roxie tapped her fingers on her chin, probably forming a scheme that would no doubt get her ass in deep shit.
The guy who’d stolen Lord Ruin’s attention leaned his back against the railing, his broad shoulders straining in the gray t-shirt. He reached back, tattooed fingers curling around the metal. Swirls of black ink also ran over his arms, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find more all over his body.
I inched away from the table toward the balcony, my attention locked on the guy.
“Did you ladies order a drink?” Hawk stepped in my path and blocked my view, placing three cocktails on the table.
I shook the haze from my mind and took the nearest glass, grimacing. “You know I hate these overly sweet drinks with a mountain of sugar to mask the alcohol.”
Roxie scoffed and grabbed the one Hawk pushed in her direction. “Speak for yourself, girlfriend. Not all of us prefer drinking gasoline.”
Hawk jerked his chin to my cocktail. “I had yours made special. The bartender added jalapeños.”
I lifted the glass, and sure enough, a few green slices lingered at the bottom beyond the ice. “That’s different.” I sipped the drink, and a pleasant spicy kick mixed with sweetness hit my tastebuds. “Not bad.”
“Glad you like it, Strawberry Shortcake.”
Before I could insult Hawk for the stupid nickname, Roxie grabbed my arm and motioned her glass to the right side of the club.
“See that area curtained off with the big bouncer standing guard? I bet that’s where they have Rapture parties.” Her mischievous smile had warnings shrieking in my head. “I’ve always wondered what that was like.”
Not me. I wouldn’t go within a ten-foot radius of the room where they peddled that magical demon drug. Some compared Rapture to Ecstasy, but a hundred times more potent. Demons lured humans back there, plied them with drugs to make them compliant, sucked on their souls, and did whatever else they wanted.
