Everyone deserves a second chance…
As an ancient succubus, Lady Aislynn is cursed to survive off sexual energy for eternity. To live without killing, Aislynn runs the Underground, a pleasure club in Las Vegas where she safely feeds on the ample eroticism of her patrons. A murder inside her club threatens the haven she’s built, even as it brings unwanted attention—and possible salvation—in the form of two handsome brothers, both in search of the truth.
Werewolves Chayse and Nik Wolffe haven’t seen each other in five years, and the last place they expect to cross paths is a strip club. The detective and PI find their cases intertwining around the enticing Aislynn and her club. Nik may believe in Aislynn’s innocence, but Chayse knows all too well the destructive power of a succubus. He’s determined to keep himself and Nik free of her spell.
Nik’s missed sharing lovers with his brother, but Chayse seems dead-set against reconciling the past or building a future. Luckily fate, and the Goddess, may have plans for the two embattled werewolves and the succubus with love enough for them both.
“Beautifully done, Felicia. I’m pleased.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
The voices weren’t loud, but Chayse’s werewolf hearing caught them anyway. His gaze strayed to the bar where Lady Aislynn stood in a long, narrow skirt slit nearly to her hip and surveyed the decorations in her domain like a reigning queen. Her dark hair hung straight down her back except where two mother-of-pearl clips held it to the sides of her head. A black and red corset with thick buckles bracketed her ribcage and pushed her breasts up into tempting, delicious mounds. Chayse’s mouth watered before he could slam a lid on his addiction.
“Oh, marvelous.” Felicia’s expression hardened. “It’s the cop and the PI I mentioned before.”
“Are they?” The succubus tilted her head and her lips quirked into an amused smile.
“This is turning into the Nightmare Before Valentine’s Day with the murder and all.” The vampire set her clipboard down. “I’ll take care of them, Mistress.”
Aislynn held up one hand, surveying her prey, and Chayse locked his knees to keep from bolting back out the door.
“I’ll speak with them. Please finish up preparations for tonight.”
Felicia paused, eyeing Aislynn. “Yes, Mistress.”
The succubus approached as the sounds of slender heels ripping at the carpeted floor reached Chayse’s ears, and he fought to hold back a snarl.
Ten grand says she’ll rip your heart out and bleed you dry.
“Welcome, gentlemen.” Her voice spread a balm over every hurt in his soul, promising comfort and understanding, and he felt his brother’s tension relax. Fool.
Chayse kept his eyes on her boobs to keep from being snared by her seductive gaze.
“What can I do for one of Metro’s finest?”
“We have a few more questions about the crime committed in your establishment.”
Chayse had never heard Nik speak so graciously. He glanced at his “rougher” brother and grimaced. The ignorant idiot was a goner already, wearing a dreamy expression.
“Of course. I want to help in any way I can. Why don’t you come to my office so we don’t disturb the staff.”
Nik followed after the sultry woman like a dog on a leash. Chayse just hoped the succubus wouldn’t make a play for his brother. Because estranged or not, he’d protect Nik from her, even if it meant murder.
They followed her through a door beside the bar and up to a remarkably austere office overlooking the club. While the décor remained feminine, the room had been arranged with comfort and practicality in mind. An elegant, but simply constructed antique desk stood before a well-worn and comfortable leather armchair. The wall across from the bank of windows supported a plush couch with chenille throws on either arm where visitors could sit.
“Please, have a seat,” the succubus offered as she retreated behind the desk.
Chayse sat in one of the straight-backed wooden chairs before the desk, studiously ignoring the female demon’s eyes.
“Now, what would you like to know that hasn’t already been asked?”
“Can you tell us where the body was actually found?” Nik asked. He leaned his elbows on his knees and Chayse scented his interest in the undoubtedly beautiful woman.
“We found the body in the lap dance room.” She delivered her answer with ease, but Chayse scented something off about it. “We don’t know how he died. We assume it was a heart attack.”
Damn, she sounds so fucking reasonable.
“Is there something funny, Mr…?” She trailed off, waiting for him to supply his name.
Not bloody likely, bitch.
“Detective Wolffe, ma’am. And no, I don’t find anything funny when people lie to me.”
“Easy,” Nik muttered, but Chayse ignored him.
“What makes you assume I’m lying to you, Detective?”
“Three things, actually, Lady Aislynn.” He tried to keep the growl out of his voice, but his animosity for her kind coupled with the lying stretched his patience thin. He raised his gaze to her chin. “First, he had fresh bruising all over his body that couldn’t have come from one of the dancers with the whole “no touch” rule. Second, his thigh was severely mutilated by some sort of knife or weapon not usually kept in a strip club. And third, he’d been completely drained of blood from a puncture of his left femoral artery, but there was no blood on his clothes or the chair where he was found. That means he was moved.”
Chayse crossed his arms over his chest. “So, do you want to change your statement, Lady Aislynn?”