by Anna Sanders
“Yeah.” Keaton breathed before clearing his throat. “Er. Yes. I do.”
“What’s a hunk like you doing around here?” she asked, giving him a once over. “Looking for trouble?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
He started to walk through the hanging beads, but the bouncer stopped him with a shake of his burly head.
“That’ll be thirty,” the working girl said.
“Thirty?”
“Dollars.”
“Thirty dollars. Of course.” Keaton shook his head. Admission fee. How could he forget that? He unrolled a handful of money from a clip inside his jacket, counted out the bills, and handed them over. She checked it was correct before depositing them into the cash drawer.
“Are…all of the girls in there naked?” Keaton asked her with a slight frown.
She lifted a brow. “Are you sure that you’re in the right place, honey?”
Keaton looked at his palm again. “Yeah. I’m sure. I just…” He shook his head without explaining further. How could he go into the specifics of seeking the aide of a demon? And about whether he could approach that demon while she was naked? The human wouldn’t understand supernatural issues. It wasn’t her field.
“You’re looking a bit green for a place like this,” she said. “Far too country.”
Perhaps he was too country. It was obvious that he wasn’t local. Keaton wore comfort clothes of ragged blue jeans and a red check flannel shirt, miles from owning anything leather or latex. His boots were dirty from walking. His long black hair was braided, as always, with a feather hanging in the tresses. His dark skin was scarred, yet the majority of it was hidden from view. Maybe he did look strait-laced. Heaven knows he felt it.
Keaton flashed the hostess one last smile, and then walked past the beads into the hazy play den.
Booths and seats were draped in fake fog, and the bar stood at the very back of the room beside the DJ stand. Men were whooping and cat calling at each of the four stages.
The first was close to the entrance. A redheaded girl with smoky eyes and pale skin gyrated against a pole. The men around her slapped the base of the platform in time with the music.
The second stage had two women. The one bound in stocks had a lot of wavy dark hair and exotic looks, while the one whipping her with a cat-of-nine-tails was brown-haired with innocent features. The men there were silent, as if reverent of the show.
The third stage had a woman who was strung up in a device that left her splayed. Behind her, her counterpart was blowing flames along her back. Her breathy cries echoed around the room.
And the fourth stage held another dancer. She had smooth cocoa skin spotted by strobe lights. She was bald with small red horns poking from the top of her head, and when she turned, a red tail whipped with her.
Her face was pretty: big lips, wide eyes, and round cheeks. Her nose was straight, her chin strong. Her neck was long, and five glittering diamond dermals flashed from her collarbone to her jaw. And the body. That body was fit. Thick, strong legs. Hard arms. The flat contours of her belly led to sizable hips. Her clothing was revealing, yet concealed her more than those of her coworkers. Her leather outfit left nothing to the imagination, and her undulating body hypnotized her small audience.
As the music changed, her dancing became more elaborate. She held onto her nearby pole for balance as well as grace. She smiled once when a costumer walked close to hand a tip to her. He found himself as transfixed by her spell as the humans around her. She was danger and sex appeal rolled in one. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d found her.
That was the first time ever that Keaton saw Winx.
KEATON WAS SURE FROM THE start that he’d spotted the demon. The way she moved in time with the music was sinful. Her opaque eyes glittered, and her ruby lips parted slightly to release her breath as she danced. The rotation of her hips switched from blindingly fast to gradual and slow. But the horns and tail sealed the deal.
Any humans staring down the sun-kissed beauty would automatically think those wicked features were props, and it fit the club setting well. However, Keaton knew better; a cryptid could always spot another cryptid.
Smiling to himself, Keaton chose a seat to the back of the demon’s stage area. He did his best to ignore the cigar and cigarette smoke that mingled with the faux fog. The girls all played quite convincingly in their arenas, judging by the sounds of lashings and shrieks. Yet the demon stayed silent as she twisted and swayed. Her look was that of a woman who begged to be made love to, nothing more. Even the fact that she remained clothed while the others were stark naked added a quality to her work that was absent from the others.
It didn’t work for every patron, but it was working on Keaton. So much so that he didn’t notice the waiting stripper to his left until she cleared her throat.
Keaton looked up quickly, reluctantly prying his eyes from the showgirl onstage.
“Yes?”
“Need a drink, lover boy?”
“I don’t think so.” Alcohol would muddy his senses. It was bad enough that the ventilation system was so awful in the smoky room.
“How about just a dance?”
Keaton frowned slightly, then looked at the men surrounding the room. Some receiving the attention of the dancers were being escorted to the back rooms. Others were still glued to the stages, whistling gleefully. He knew that he had to fit in, but he also wanted to keep an eye on his quarry.
“Come on, daddy.” She bent over his seat, almost to the point of placing her ample cleavage into his lap. “I’ll let you spank me. Would you like that?”
Touch a complete stranger? That hadn’t been on his mind, even in this hotbed of flesh. Perhaps he had too much on his mind in order to enjoy the sights and sounds around him. Or perhaps he was already too preoccupied with having found a temptress who drew him in, her body a song and her smile a lightning strike.
Keaton was overwhelmed. He didn’t want to be there. Yet he had no choice. His eyes retuned to the stage, where the still-clothed dancer kicked her feet off the ground and swung around her pole, vicious high heels catching the light and tail wrapping her body. He looked back to the boring human woman begging for his attention.
“Maybe some other time?” he ventured with a subtle shrug.
“I’ll be waiting.” Her voice was husky, yet her eyes went sharp at his dismissal. She went off to flirt with another patron. Keaton breathed a sigh of relief.
While the ladies finished their performances, deep bows and blown kisses earned them more calls and cash. The DJ spoke, but the monotony of his voice garnered him no attention. The music went down a notch as the act changed.
The dark mystery that had stolen his attention did one last twirl for her audience, then ended with an abrupt jut of her hip outward. She too blew a single kiss to her fans and stepped down from the stage. Another couple of performers were ready to take her place, and she fearlessly walked through the crowd of men still adamantly fighting for her interest.
She wound away from them like a cat and headed through the club area, passing Keaton as she went. While she rounded his table, their eyes met.
Her step faltered. She slowed a bit as she walked by, a small frown marring the smooth of her brow. Keaton stared back unabashedly, yet he couldn’t think of anything to say. The acknowledgement that they both were supernatural creatures in a human club passed wordlessly between the two before she continued on her way.
CHAPTER 2
KEATON LOST SIGHT OF WINX after that brief contact. In her place was a bawdy show with two girls pretending to be involved with one another, when in reality there was nothing of a connection between them. It seemed tactless to place them where a vision had just danced.
Keaton was from a race of excellent trackers. But putting his nose to the ground was not an option with so many humans present, and the area was full of enough scents that it would be folly, even if he could try. There was no way to find her again unless she graced the
stage once more.
Backtracking, Keaton went to the bar for a cup of water. He sipped for a few minutes, hoping to hear the announcer call forth his target for an encore. When that didn’t happen, Keaton changed tactics and headed for the back rooms.
A bouncer awaited him at the opening, palm forward. “This area is invitation only.”
“Oh. Right.”
Keaton looked around for a free woman staking claims. The one who had earlier approached him while he’d been distracted passed him by. Her pert mouth tilted in a “you snooze, you lose” smirk as she lead a new sucker back. Keaton watched them go beyond the half-parted curtain and tried to sneak a look inside. All he could see were many sectioned-off booths, each hidden with heavy drapes.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, sir.” The bouncer waved him off.
Keaton nodded and left. He tried to be patient, circling the stages once more while sipping his refreshment, but he didn’t want to be patient. He wanted to speak with her.
The acts on stage became more brutal. Participants were encouraged to call out which toys they wanted to see used. The music became more eerie. The lights dimmed even more, illuminating the scaffolds alone.
The energy was foreign to Keaton. Finishing his water, he came to the conclusion that retreating was the best option. He adjusted his pack, gave the room one last slow scan, and left the club.
WINX WATCHED THE ANIMAL LEAVE the nightclub with a mix of dread and suspicion. She hadn’t run into another cryptid for so long, and from the way he seemed to be sniffing her out, it couldn’t be chance that he had come to her place of work. Not by a long shot. When he finally walked out, she was able to take a deep breath and go into the dressing room.
There was only one reason that she could run into someone with the Touch: the subject of her probation.
Winx had not been doing her duty by the laws of her kind. Once her vigorous combat training completed and she had been released, she hotfooted it to California. Winx had decided it would be best to stay off of the grid for good. She had abandoned any hope of returning home and instead pursued the carefree life of a human.
Though there was one problem with that: she wasn’t human.
The dark deeds of Los Angeles had drawn her in, and it was incredibly hard to control her impulses there. She decided to work out of the kinky world of Skinned in the hopes that the fun would keep her too busy to attract a worse fate. Or to lead the hounds of The Three in her direction.
Resuming her human form by sucking in her tail and horns, Winx was done with work for the night. She changed from her catsuit and into a pair of black shorts and a matching halter top. She wiped the makeup from her face and applied lip gloss in its place.
“Did you see the paper today?” she heard a couple of girls say as they walked into the break room across the hall. “More of those odd disappearances.”
A sigh. “This happens way too often around here.”
“But these have been really strange. This time it was a group of teenagers…”
Disappearances. Winx stopped listening as best she could, which wasn’t very easy for a psychic. She had a brief moment of something resembling guilt before she shook it off. People disappeared all of the time. It didn’t mean anything.
As she laced up her boots, a few of her coworkers entered the dressing room: Viri, Trish, and Randee. Typical womanly looks, each were big breasted, brunette, and thin.
“Good going tonight, Winx.” Viri walked over to her. “I loved your outfit. You were amazing up there.”
The other two agreed, beginning to change out of their work clothes.
“All in a day’s work.” Winx grunted as she tied her left boot and switched to the other.
Trish stuck her tongue out playfully. “You were catching some lookers tonight.”
“Really?” Winx straightened up.
“Oh yes, you were. If I were you, I’d indulge.”
“Anyone who is looking for a date on that floor isn’t thinking straight.”
“Please. It’s fun to partake every now and then.” Viri fluffed out her long, waist length hair.
“That’s fraternizing.”
“There’s a word for it?” Randee giggled. “Oh, that’s fun!”
“Hmm. You are well within your rights to enjoy it. I’d rather not.” Winx contented herself with watching the girls undress. When you’re naked, or halfway naked, at work all day, the dressing room loses some of its appeal. Still, she did work with some of the best-looking girls the town had to offer. It wasn’t such a bum deal.
“How about that Indian guy that was walking around tonight?” Randee fanned herself mockingly. “Now he was gorgeous. I wouldn’t have minded some of his time.”
“He was weird,” Winx found herself saying before she could stop herself.
“Well…they’re all a little weird, aren’t they?” Trish flipped her head down between her legs to put her hair up into a ponytail. “I mean, look where they’re spending their nights.”
“Winx, what was weird about him?” Viri asked.
Winx’s lips parted wordlessly, but before she could explain, more of the girls filed in to change. The stage manager was calling out names for the upcoming acts, and it was all a bit noisy and crowded.
She took the available interruption. Grabbing her nearby tote bag, Winx waved as she left the room.
“I’m leaving, Danny,” she told the manager.
He frowned, looking at the clipboard. “I thought we had you for another two hours.”
Her eyes flashed black. If anyone noticed, they wouldn’t remember it. “I said I’m out.”
Danny smiled. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’d like. Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. See you then. Maybe.”
Winx shook her head as she left the changing area. It was laughable how easy humans were to manipulate. Like windup toys you find on the ground, ready and willing to do your bidding. No wonder the dark ages of history were so plentiful. They made it too easy.
The floor of the club was still full of customers. Winx shuffled around them all until she reached the exit. Opening the heavy door led her out to the back alley where a private parking lot was placed for the girls’ convenience.
“Do you need an escort?” The bouncer asked as she stepped out of the threshold.
“I can take care of myself.”
The closing door thudded behind her. She shivered. Winx ignored the change from rowdy to quiet and walked across the lot to her waiting silver ‘96 Mazda 626.
Winx had a distinct unsettled feeling after the cryptid circling her place of work, so she wasted no time getting into the car and starting the engine. All she could think about was the possibility that the newcomer had been sent to see what she had been up to since leaving her homeland. There had been no real attempts to reach her since she had abandoned her quest to return home. Who knew if the Three were cozy with that idea? Being in Los Angeles was supposed to be a punishment. Obviously she’d flipped that onto its head, so what would come next?
Locking the doors made her feel secure in the so-many pounds of steel. She turned on a random music station, took a deep breath, and backed up.
She almost backed into the cryptid.
Winx stared through the rearview mirror, unable to believe what she was seeing. The same hot Indian guy her coworkers had been spewing on about had almost become a speed bump beneath her car. He was waving at her cheerfully, ignorant or uncaring of the fact that he could have been injured. She waved her hands in a silent show of impatience.
Walking up to her window, he waved again and knocked three times. She stared at him in disbelief.
Not losing his smile, he did it again.
Winx was beginning to believe that this guy was either heavily undercover, or he was dimwitted. She cracked her window just enough to talk.
“What do you want?” she asked.
He grinned wider. “You’re the demon, right?”
“I’m not a demon.”
His smile faltered. Then he sniffed. He actually fucking sniffed. “Yes, you are,” he countered.
“No, I’m not. I’m a daevor.”
He scoffed. “Same exact thing, isn’t it?”
“It’s insulting to refer to a daevor as a demon.”
“Why?”
“Demons are common,” Winx said.
“Oh. Well. I stand corrected. But still. You are who I am looking for.”
“And why might that be?”
“I was sent to find you.”
Winx’s eyes widened involuntarily. “By who?”
He shuffled from foot to foot, then looked around. “Do you think we can talk somewhere else? Preferably someplace warm? And with food?”
“I don’t think so. You state your business while I’m in the car and able to drive away from you.”
He grinned at her in confusion. “Are you afraid of me?” He laughed a bit. “I didn’t think that demons—or their ilk—were afraid of anything. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m sure that’s been said before. And that it was a lie.”
“Okay, let me restate that. I can’t hurt you,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because I need your help, all right? I need the help of a daevor.”
“For what?” she asked.
“I’d rather not talk about it here. It’s going to take some explaining and if you would just listen for a—hey! Wait!”
Winx rolled up her window and began to back up again. The stranger knocked on her window and then her hood as she continued to go. He was waving his hands and trying to regain her attention.
Winx had just shifted into drive when he stood before her headlights. She cracked her window again. “That’s not the smartest place to be right now.”