What Happens in Vegas…After Dark

by Jodi Lynn Copeland, Anya Bast, Lauren Dane

  “Her death wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know that now, but I thought it was. I didn’t admit to knowing her, because I was afraid you’d realize I was there the night of the fire, that I hadn’t been able to save her, and that you would hate me for it.” His voice broke a little on the last words. In a tone wrought with emotion, he admitted, “I couldn’t handle the thought of you walking away. Because I got moony, too.”

  Every ounce of my panic fell away as my heart gave a furious clenching of happiness. I laughed as the tears I’d been holding back for three days welled in my eyes. Flippantly, I tossed out, “Well, aren’t we just a couple of love-struck puppies?”

  Ryan let out his own laugh, deep and rich and wonderful. Then he sobered again. “So you’re okay with adopting?”

  “Yeah, but we don’t have to.”

  “The human version of you can get pregnant?”

  “The demon version of me could get pregnant, but only at my command and only when the right sperm was involved.” Winking, I slipped a hand between our bodies to pet his shaft through his shorts. “Don’t think just because I’m not a succubus anymore, I plan to go easy on you, though.”

  Love, tender and amazing, filled his eyes, and he gave me a wicked grin that warmed me from the top of my mortal head to the tips of my mortal toes. “Don’t you, either, devil girl. Because I plan to go hard on you.” Rubbing his cock against my fingers, he brushed my mouth with the most gentle of kisses. “Very hard.”

  His lips grew firmer, hungry, parted my own to slip his tongue into my mouth and devour. And then he jerked me inside the house and spent the rest of the night showing me exactly how hard he planned to go on me.

  SENSUAL MAGIC

  Lauren Dane

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always—without my wonderful husband, Ray, none of this would be possible. Thank you for putting up with a wife under the influence of book deadlines and the messy house that comes with it.

  Thanks most righteously go to Laura Bradford, agent and friend. I’ve rarely come across people who work as hard as she does. She’s shiny and a joy to work with, even when she sends me revision notes she says herself contain “a million nitpicks.”

  Thank you to Susan Swinwood for giving Nell and William a place to tell their story.

  Writers live in their heads a lot, so it takes friends to keep us grounded, laughing through the rough times and kicking our behinds when we get whiny. Megan Hart—brrrrring me my hoooookah! Anya Bast—you may eat my candy house except for the peanut M&M’s. Ann Aguirre, thank you for listening to me blather daily. Renee Meyer—you’re made of awesome for more reasons than I can articulate in this space.

  And to my readers—seriously, thank you each and every one.

  Chapter One

  In the narrow alley, Nell crouched, turning her face to the stiflingly hot blast of air apparently referred to as a breeze in these parts. She shut out all other stimulus, simply waiting for the magic to come to her. Tendrils of energy hung in the air, spicy and unique to the individual who worked the spell. The taste of it wove through her system. Nell’s own magic broke it down, analyzed it, identified the owner.

  It was her particular talent. Hunting. Tracking. A family trait she inherited from her mother. Not just a gift, but a calling. Who she was, as well as what she did on behalf of her Clan.

  She stood and tapped a finger against her iPod. Music filled her senses, drowning out all other noise. Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark” kept her company as she made a few notes before tucking the pad into the back pocket of her jeans.

  Mage magic. The metallic flavor identified it as other. Not the earthy tang of her own magic. Witch magic like hers was inherent and came from the earth beneath her feet, from the air around her and the water under and aboveground. Mages weren’t born with magic, they traded for it. Most of the time with the kind of creatures best left alone.

  It cost a lot to trade for power. It cost in lives, energy, dark gifts and money, too. This Camarilla was on Nell’s shit list because they were in possession of nearly a hundred thousand dollars belonging to the Owen Clan.

  The Owen Clan—a circle of witches and the Clan Nell belonged to and worked for—didn’t take thefts of any kind lightly.

  And what they took seriously, Nell took seriously. Frankly, this Camarilla, their little name for a group of them, seriously pissed her off. She’d spent the last two months traveling from city to city until she’d finally locked onto Las Vegas. Summer in Las Vegas was not Nell’s idea of pleasant and she planned to take her annoyance out in someone’s hide.

  A man stood just a few feet away, eyes warily scanning the area, body taut, ready to spring should it be necessary. Galen, Nell’s partner and the physical muscle to her magical strength.

  “Got it?” he asked as he stalked toward her, golden skin rippling over roped muscle. His hair was close-cropped, pale blond against his skull. He slid dark sunglasses up over his eyes, all velvet cool and alluring.

  A smile canted the left corner of her mouth. “They’re here. We need to get in to see that ex-boyfriend of hers. It can’t be a coincidence she’s in the same city.”

  Galen shrugged, his dark sunglasses reflecting her face. “Dunno, Nell. From all accounts she screwed him over but good. Could be a coincidence. She might not even know he’s here.”

  Nell rolled her eyes. “Please. How could she not know? That bitch knows where the money is. He’s got it big-time. Of course she knows. Right now though, I have a trail, let’s follow it to see where it leads.”

  Opening herself up again, she caught the scent of mage magic and let it lead her. She knew Galen would watch her back.

  “Ah, there you are.” Even in the devastatingly bright light of the midday sun, she caught sight of the shine of her quarry’s aura.

  She nodded in his direction and Galen moved to flank them. The mage, a low-ranking minion from the feel of his magic, stood leaning against a concrete pillar bracketing the entrance to the escalators up and over the Strip. Middle-aged, slightly balding, his vitality leaking from him and speeding his aging process. Stealing magic instead of letting it move through you tended to eat you alive.

  Flipping two buttons of her shirt open, Nell shook her short curls out and approached, spilling sex with calm self-assurance. His head snapped up, his attention snagged.

  Close. Nell sidled up to him, standing so near her lips touched his ear. “I have a room just across the way.” Confidently, she walked past and up the escalators, knowing he’d be right behind her. And he was.

  Three hours later, fortified with some information, a shower and a change of clothes, Nell slid onto a padded bar stool and raised a brow toward the bartender.

  He moved to her with a smile. “What can I get you?”

  She looked him over. They sure did have some pretty people in Las Vegas. Everyone working in the bars and restaurants in the upscale casino/resorts on the Strip looked like an ad from a lifestyle magazine.

  She considered the way he looked, the openness of his expression. He was young. Twenty-three maybe. His dark hair was tipped into fashionable little spikes. A band of barbed wire was inked into his very solid biceps. His eyes were slow and very interested.

  One tip of her chin and a murmured word or two and she could go in the back with him right then and fuck. She could rip his sexy low-rise jeans open and suck his cock. Shove him to his knees and press his face into her pussy. It would be…thrilling. Unlike her, but perhaps that was why it seemed so alluring.

  Or maybe it was because she felt as if she’d jump her skin. Anxiety, no, expectation coursed through her as sure as the beating of her heart. It grew every day. She’d been patient with it until the last week or two, but it rode her now until it distracted and annoyed her. She wanted to fill the uncertain space within, wanted to pull deep emotion into herself for just a short while, so her jangled senses would have something else to soothe them.

  But she had the sense it would leave her feeli
ng even emptier once it was over. Still, what did it hurt to flirt a bit? Nell leaned toward him, canting her head and sending him a seductive smile. No magic, just her. “What do you suggest?”

  He leaned a hip against the counter and one arm on the bar. “Well, now, let’s see. What do you like?” He definitely flirted right back.

  “I like lots of things. I like it strong.” Her resolve to just let it go began to slip from her fingers.

  “Do you like it slow and building up to strong? Or hard right off?”

  She laughed then, settling more comfortably into the high-backed stool. “Oh, it’s hard to say until I get to know the drink. I do like staying power. Can you give it to me?”

  His bottom lip caught between very white teeth for just a moment, sending a shiver through her. “I might be able to deliver.”

  Someone at the other end of the bar called a name and her pretty bartender reluctantly tore his gaze from hers. “I’ll be back with something strong with staying power.”

  But before the bartender returned, Galen entered the bar and motioned her to a booth in the far corner. Reluctantly she moved to sit with him, noting the bartender’s shrug and wink.

  A waitress delivered a tall glass just moments later. “Strong and hard,” she said and Nell laughed.

  “Just how I like it. Send my thanks.” She put a bill on the tray and Galen ordered a beer.

  “Nell, you’re not…You seem a bit uncontrolled this week. First today with the mage and now with the bartender? This isn’t you. What’s going on?”

  She looked at Galen, followed the planes of masculine cheekbones and hardened jaw. She’d used a lot more magic than normal that afternoon on the mage. Had broken into his shields and spilled her magic through him until he sweated and begged her to touch him. It wasn’t as if she’d have harmed him, but she knew the magnitude of her abilities and took an oath not to abuse them.

  “It won’t happen again. He was weaker than I’d expected. I overcompensated.” All she said was true. “And with cutie over there?” Nell jerked her head toward the bar. “I didn’t blow him, I just flirted.” She paused, sipping the drink. “I’ve been patient. Waiting. It’s coming and it has been for a while now. But suddenly I’m restless, Galen. I’m itchy in my own skin.”

  “Last time I saw her back home, Meriel told me to keep an eye on you.”

  “You know, how fair is it that Meriel is pretty much the total package? I mean, she’s beautiful and smart, she’s full-council. All those perfect genes.” Nell snorted a laugh.

  “Nice, too. Even if her judgment is poor in choosing you for a best friend.” Galen took a few pulls from his beer.

  Meriel Owen was Nell’s best friend, lead counsel to the Clan and Edina Owen’s oldest child. Also unlike Nell, Meriel was a full-council witch. Meaning there was a bond-partner who’d bring Meriel into the full power of her magic, like a key in a lock. Once she was fully bonded, it was highly likely she would take over the leadership of the Clan.

  Nell wasn’t full-council. She was powerful, yes. Good at her job. So much so the Clan gave her free rein in most situations. She was paid well and in general, life was good. But something was missing. And as she’d told Meriel on the phone that very morning, whatever it was, she had the feeling she’d find it there in Las Vegas. Or at least would be led to it.

  “I called the club the ex owns. He’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. We’ve got suites set up at the Liege and our belongings have been sent over. With what our little friend told us this afternoon, I think we can do some digging.”

  “All right. Party pooper. Let’s go on over, get room service and start digging.”

  Chapter Two

  William Emery walked through the club, his club. The rip in the upholstery of one of the VIP booths had been repaired nicely and the tabletop scarring had been polished out.

  He liked when his orders were followed. It made every thing much easier.

  “I’ll be in my office,” he called to the floor manager who’d been speaking with Roseanne, his lead dancer. The Dollhouse was a burlesque club. While in the over two years since he’d opened, several others had cropped up in Vegas, the Dollhouse still reigned. It was his club people waited in line to get into. His club whose bottle service tables were booked up to six months in advance. His club the young, rich and hip had made their living room while in Las Vegas.

  And to think he’d nearly opened a dance club in Boston.

  Another techno club with overpriced drinks. He’d have made it a success, it was who he was. But if that faithless bitch hadn’t tried to con his mother, he’d have never made this dream come true.

  A steaming mug of tea waited for him on his desk as he let the leather of his chair embrace his body. His kingdom. William had learned the hard way just how closed off you had to be, just how distrustful, to hold on to what was important.

  A knock on his door sounded and he didn’t bother to look up from his computer screen, instead, just waving whoever it was into the room.

  And when he looked up, everything stopped for long moments.

  She was long and lean. The short cap of pale blond curls should have made her girlish, but William wagered there wasn’t much girlish about the woman standing in his doorway.

  Stylistically, she wasn’t a woman he’d normally have looked at twice. Faded jeans and a button-down short-sleeved shirt, cowboy boots. In Las Vegas. In August? Not much makeup and her nails were bare, no polish. And yet, whatever it was she exuded was pure sex.

  “Can I help you?” He hoped she was there to apply to be a dancer. She had that certain something he knew would amplify up on stage.

  “William Emery?”

  Her voice was whisky-rough, smoky. Christ.

  “Yes. You know, we don’t have any positions open right now, but I’d love to see you audition. Did you bring your clothes with you or is that your costume?”

  Blinking slowly, she stilled a moment before she laughed. Deep and velvet seduction. Her laugh brought his already interested cock to full attention.

  With a sigh, she dropped gracefully into the chair across from his desk without invitation and pulled a notepad from her bag. When she looked back up at him again he caught bright green eyes and cinnamon lashes.

  “Such a kidder. I’m Nell Hunter. I work for Owen Group International and I’m looking for this woman.” She slid a photograph across his desk and his enchantment with her ended when he saw who it was.

  Well, that was unexpected. At the sight of Leah’s face, his cock lost all interest. “What do you want her for? Why are you here? I haven’t seen Leah in three years.”

  “She’s here in Las Vegas. You haven’t heard from her?” One of her eyebrows rose slowly, as if taunting him.

  “I just said that, didn’t I?” Why did this woman have to be so tantalizing?

  “You did. Can you tell me about the last time you saw her?”

  “No. I think you’re going to do some telling just now. Why the hell are you in my office, in my club, asking me about a woman I broke up with three years ago? What did she do?” he asked, suspicious.

  “Why do you care? Are you protecting her?” Her lazy manner only barely hid the sharp attentiveness just beneath the surface.

  He leaned back once he knew she was as much a shark as he was. William knew how to play this game. This Nell Hunter amused him, fascinated him even. Why not fence a bit with her?

  “You know, pretty won’t get you everything, Ms. Hunter. You’re going to have to work for it. Now, I believe I asked who you were and why you were here.”

  He didn’t mistake the glimmer of a smile at the edge of her mouth. Her mouth, God. What would she taste like?

  “I’m chief of security for my employer. Your fiancée worked for a company we’ve done business with for eight years. Through this company and her position in it, Leah Mathers is believed to have embezzled one hundred thousand dollars from the Owen Group. Naturally we want our property back. You were engaged to marry the
woman. She’s suddenly in the same city you are when we’re very close to finding her. You can see how this might be just a few too many coincidences for us to let pass without some questions.”

  She sat back in her chair and he caught the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  “How do you know she’s here?”

  “Mr. Emery, I’d like to repeat to you your wise words of just moments ago. Pretty won’t get you everything. I gave you some, now it’s your turn. Or, don’t you believe in equal gratification?”

  Was the lovely Ms. Hunter flirting with him? Even Leah’s apparent dedication to her life of graft couldn’t sour his enjoyment of Nell Hunter.

  “As I said, I haven’t seen Leah in three years. I kicked her out of my house. The last time I saw her was at a court hearing when she attempted to wring money from me for breaking off our engagement. After that, I had my attorneys file for a restraining order. I received it and I never laid eyes on the traitorous bitch again.” The humiliation at least had been burned out by his rage at her gall.

  “Did she steal from you?”

  He clenched his jaw. Time had healed the romantic hurts, but it hadn’t fully assuaged the humiliation Leah had brought into his life. “No. But I have no problem believing she’d steal a hundred grand from your boss, either.” He hesitated a moment and then shrugged. “She attempted to extort money from my mother.”

  Both of her brows rose this time as she shook her head and clucked her tongue. “My goodness. Well, then, she’s an idiot. Do you have any idea where she could be here in Las Vegas? Any family or friends?”

  “Did you just compliment me, Ms. Hunter?” He smiled at her, feeling like the cat who ate the canary. She may have been long and lean, but her tits were gorgeously lush. A brief mental picture of her long, pale legs wrapped around his waist slid through his head.