I smiled. “Not as a human, no. But I’ve been here since the city was founded. Before that, Colette and I spent some time in California. Goldrush territory.”

  I had a few stories about that if he cared to hear them. I might not have been as lively a narrator as Colette, but I would gladly take the chance to captivate him the way she had.

  “Would you ever go back?” he asked before I could begin.

  “To California?”

  “To Hell.”

  He said it in that same soft voice, gaze gone distant. He remembered something, all right, and it felt like a crime that what lingered was fire and torment, not whatever scraps of joy he might’ve known in life.

  There was talent in him. Skill too. Things that didn’t come from nowhere. He was more than Maslow’s possession. More than a pretty face dangled in front of a crowd. I didn’t know what, exactly. But I wanted to. I wanted to see him—really see him—if only so he might look back and see me too.

  Aside from Colette, there wasn’t a soul on this plane who’d call me more than an acquaintance. Well, maybe one. Stefano Rossetti walked the Earth again. He’d left a void in me I’d spent decades guarding. I’d never tried to fill it. Not because it didn’t ache, but because I was a coward. I was afraid that if I examined the damage too closely, I’d find it wasn’t a crack; it was a chasm wide enough to swallow me whole.

  But Zephyr had asked about Hell. And frankly, that was easier to talk about than the angel who once loved me.

  I gazed down the sidewalk at the sea of people while pondering how to explain. “I don’t fit there anymore,” I settled to say. “The space I left closed behind me.”

  “What things happened?” he asked.

  A rueful smile twisted my lips. “Things older than you.”

  “Things you don’t want to talk about.” He plucked out his sucker and waved it at me, so quick with the comeback that it put me on my heels. I’d forgotten how direct he could be, a quality often diminished by his relentless hunger.

  “People I don’t want to talk about,” I clarified.

  A tourist group barreled past, too busy snapping photos on bulky cameras to notice Zephyr and me. Snagging him by the waist, I pulled him out of their path, then left my hand coiled around his hip. Heat bloomed everywhere we touched, but I didn’t push him away.

  Instead, I leaned in, putting my mouth close to his ear and whispering, “And why talk about him when I have such a beauty on my arm?” Zephyr’s cheeks flamed as I straightened then added, “This is a rare treat for me. I don’t get out much, and I’ve been recently informed that my life is dull.”

  He laughed while staying tucked in the crook of my shoulder. After a few more steps, he gestured to the cityscape that boxed us in on every side.

  “How can life be dull when you’re surrounded by all this?”

  A sigh escaped me as I surveyed the too-familiar street. “That remains a mystery.”

  Silence resumed as we carried on, dodging sightseers and vendors hawking souvenirs, when a flash of movement caught Zephyr’s eye. Street magician.

  I clocked the setup instantly. Close-up tricks, a portable speaker playing tinny jazz, and a crowd corralled in a loose semicircle. Nothing I hadn’t seen a thousand times.

  I veered left to avoid it, but Zephyr stopped short.

  The magician wore suspenders and a checkered vest, and he was currently wrist-deep in some guy’s fedora, pretending to fish around inside. With an exaggerated flourish, he yanked out a playing card and held it aloft like he’d just drawn the damn sword from the stone.

  “Ooh, a show!” Zephyr chirped, pulling free of me to inch closer to the performance in progress.

  The magician returned the card to his deck, then held it aloft. “Ladies and gents! My next trick requires a volunteer. Preferably someone with excellent taste and dazzling style…” He scanned the gathering, then locked onto Zephyr. “What about you, gorgeous? Don’t be shy.”

  Zephyr gave me a quick, excited look. “Can I?”

  “Do you need permission?” I asked dryly, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth.

  He bounded forward and assumed his position at the magician’s side, attentive and eager. Somehow, he’d managed to find a spotlight out here in the open, and he basked in the glow of delight while the magician handed him a fan of cards.

  “Pick one, but don’t show it to me. You can show your tall, brooding boyfriend over there if you want.” He nodded in my direction.

  Zephyr laughed, a little flustered, then drew a card. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  The magician threw a wink my way. “Maybe not yet.”

  The trick was simple, textbook misdirection and muscle memory, but Zephyr was spellbound. He gasped when the card vanished from his hand, yelped when it reappeared tucked behind his elbow, and applauded when the magician followed it up by pulling a quarter from behind his ear.

  “You’ve got good energy,” the magician said, patting Zephyr’s shoulder. “People like you make the magic work better.”

  Zephyr beamed at the praise. It made me think of how he shrank from Maslow’s cutting words, his inner light dimming with every slur and scornful glance. Why have such a vibrant thing only to snuff it out? Why diminish what could be so spectacular?

  Hadn’t Colette accused me of the same?

  Keeping my relationship with Zephyr small so I could feel large?

  The magician took a theatrical bow, and the crowd clapped. While Zephyr stood aside, examining the quarter as though it had secrets to reveal, I stepped in and slipped a twenty into the magician’s palm. The performer’s eyes flicked to mine, surprised, then grateful.

  “Much obliged, my good man,” he said, then jerked his chin toward Zephyr. “And hey, take care of that one. They’re a rare kind.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “I’m starting to notice.”

  Zephyr rejoined me, sparkling with delight. “Did you see that? He was so good. I think he actually made that card disappear.”

  “Mm,” I hummed. “Or you were too busy swooning to notice when he palmed it.”

  He gave me a look—half exasperated, half amused. “You’re no fun.”

  “Never claimed I was,” I said. “Still respect the hustle, though.”

  We started walking again. Zephyr’s hand brushed mine twice before I caught it to hold. Pain stabbed through my finger, stemming from the old bite wound, and I glanced down to check it. It appeared the same, with only faint scars as evidence of the event that was almost comical in hindsight.

  “What was Mazzy talking about?” Zephyr asked as we moved, crunching on the remnants of his lollipop. “What he wants from you? Fairmont?”

  I rocked my head back in a nod. “Fairmont Street. Property. It’s not here, but close, though. Adjacent. Unclaimed.”

  “Who would claim it?”

  “Your boss, apparently.”

  Zephyr frowned. “Why?”

  I turned to lead him through a narrow gap in foot traffic while talking over my shoulder. “Because he’s a greedy motherfucker with no good sense.”

  When I pulled him alongside me again, consternation furrowed his brow. Maslow’s greed and objective stupidity were hardly news, but given how new Zephyr was to the world, there must have been a million things he didn’t know. He’d been stored in a glorified bell jar for months, rendered powerless and ignorant. It was not a condition I intended to let stand.

  Slowing to a stop, I maneuvered us out of the walking path so we could see all the way up and down the boulevard.

  “You see this street?” I gestured ahead. “Consider it a dividing line. You’ve got demons on one side, angels on the other.”

  “Angels?” Zephyr’s eyes went round, and he glanced up like he expected the feathered fiends to flutter by or coast down from the clouds. I scoffed at the thought.

  “They’re a bit of a rogue’s gallery,” I said. “Some are harmless and exactly what you’d expect from Heaven’s finest. The rest are a bunch of bastards.”

  My look across the lanes of cars lined up bumper to bumper became a bitter scowl, and I was nearer than ever to telling Zephyr about Stefano. Strange how I’d put him out of my mind for decades and now he felt unavoidably present. A skeleton in my closet and a shadow looming over my potential happiness.

  “Have you heard of Antonella Rossetti?” I asked Zephyr, still dodging the subject but coming dangerously close.

  Zephyr shook his head.

  I motioned along the boulevard past the Cosmo Tower to the sprawling Basilica Resort and Casino property. “That’s her place up there,” I said. “With the fountains.”

  The Basilica was arguably the crown jewel of Las Vegas. Its hotel tower soared above the Strip, pale stone and gilded accents gleaming in daylight and glowing beneath LEDs after dark. Out front, a sprawling water feature bordered the sidewalk, launching jets over four hundred feet into the air in choreographed bursts set to music. Beside it, the casino boasted a domed roof and leaded glass windows reminiscent of an old chapel.

  “It’s beautiful,” Zephyr said.

  I couldn’t disagree.

  “You should see the inside,” I replied. “But don’t. If they catch you in there, they’ll run you out on a rail.”

  “Do what?” His eyebrow arched at the outdated expression, but I waved him off.

  “The angels keep to their own, and we keep to ours. But remember the name, because if you do ever run into a Rossetti, go the other way.”

  He looked at me sidelong. “You know a lot about angels?”

  “More than I’d like,” I said, voice flat. “I’ve lived a long time, and with time comes regrets.”

  “Regrets about angels?”

  “One in particular,” I admitted.

  I went quiet for a moment, considering whether I wanted to say more. I didn’t talk about this. I never talked about this. But it felt nice, somehow? Like a breath I’d been holding and could finally let out.

  “I thought he was different.” I tested the words. “I thought we were, but I was the different one. He was just more of the same.”

  “Were you in love with him?”

  “Yes.” The word came out easily, and I was surprised it didn’t sting. “But not anymore.”

  Zephyr nodded in understanding, and we resumed our stroll. He looked down, watching his new shoes scuff along the pavement while his forehead creased with contemplation. “I’m glad you’re different. I didn’t like the other demons in Hell…” He trailed off, then glanced away with a faint blush. “Is that rude to say?”

  My laugh came sharp and humorless. “Why do you think I stayed here?”

  Throughout my own history, I’d been the common denominator in a thousand burned bridges and a thousand broken things. Maybe it wasn’t Hell, Heaven, or humanity that was the issue. Maybe it was me.

  “No demons, no angels…” I ticked them off. “I don’t hold much fondness for humans either. It’s starting to sound like I’m the problem.”

  Zephyr’s lips pursed. “I don’t think you’re a problem.”

  I considered his gentle smile, his honest eyes, and the way he held my gaze like he meant every word. And something in me was so damn grateful I had to say it out loud.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Nodding, Zephyr looked ahead at the Basilica’s sprawling property. His lollipop had been reduced to a stick pinned between his teeth as he watched the fountains, tracking the spray like he was memorizing its pattern. The heat pressed in on us, and the Strip hummed with life, but he’d gone still.

  After a few minutes, he shifted closer, his shoulder nudging mine. “Beck… I’m hungry.”

  It had been a few hours since lunch, but I knew his request was not for fine dining. His pale countenance had an ashy tint, and the shadows around his eyes were dark. He leaned into me, blocking foot traffic as his head rested heavily on my chest, tucked beneath my chin.

  What could I do but hold him? We paused amidst the thoroughfare, and I didn’t expect him to move until I did. I’d known about his needs when we left the Dollhouse, but our time together had gotten away from me.

  The shopping mall where we’d bought his shoes was nearby, a reprieve from the desert air and a good place to wait for a ride back to my hotel suite.

  Wrapping one arm around him, I used the other to pull out my phone. “I’ll ask Colette to bring the car around. Come with me.”

  I fired off a quick text, then steered Zephyr toward the steps leading into the mall. His body relaxed, and there was a heaviness to it, weight he counted on me to bear as we made our way into the building. We found a bench near a small garden area and sat. Zephyr curled against me, seeking comfort I was more than willing to provide.

  I was wanted. Needed. And it meant something that he felt comfortable enough to ask. That blind faith had won me over to him from the beginning. He believed in me as a provider, and I was beginning to realize how much I craved that.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to him. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

  His fingers curled into my shirt. “Don’t apologize. It’s been a good day.”

  While we waited for Colette, my nerves stirred to life. I’d told Zephyr that our impromptu date was a novel occurrence, but taking someone back to my suite—my home—was even rarer. I hadn’t considered sleeping arrangements when I’d bought this time from Maslow, but now it seemed only logical to spend the night with Zephyr nestled beside me.

  With so many hours ahead of us, I could indulge him, enjoy him, and I was ready to begin.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Zephyr

  After Maslow’s morning withdrawal, the afternoon spent under the blistering sun took a toll on me. I nearly dozed off on the bench next to Beck, feeling his fingers comb through my hair and hearing his heart thump against my ear.

  It was strange to think he’d never been alive. Almost as strange as knowing I’d had a life before this. I’d been a whole person once. I’d had a real name, first and last. Where had it gone?

  When the limo arrived, Beck guided me out with an arm around my waist. I wished he would carry me again, to the car or a bed where he could lay me down and have his way with me.

  All the things I feared from strangers, I welcomed from him.

  His lust was unique. It tickled my senses as he helped me into the back seat of the limo. I wanted to siphon it from the air and hold it in my chest until my head ached from the pressure. Absorb it.

  After weeks of regular visits, he had me trained. My mouth watered when he came through the Dollhouse’s door. My stomach twinged as I stepped off the stage and ventured out to find him in the crowd. And my heart seized tight every time he held my hand, whether leading me through the club’s emergency exit or down Las Vegas Boulevard. It fluttered as Beck took his place on the seat beside me and the limo merged into traffic.

  I was drowsy, but my baser nature compelled me to act, to take, to feed. Turning toward Beck, I caught his face and pulled it toward mine. I’d tasted his skin, his cock, and his cum, but I wanted to savor his kiss.

  I was still inches away when Beck stopped me. His fingers pressed against my lips, intending to hold me back, but I opened for him instead and let out a small, wordless cry.

  Beck’s golden eyes glinted as he speared those digits into me, angling toward my throat. My jaw went slack, and my gaze locked with his while his hand slid in and out, fingering my mouth while my cock stiffened.

  He cupped my chin in his other hand, supporting my head as his digits moved rhythmically, almost hypnotically. Spit flooded my mouth and coated his skin, leaving it glistening.

  I wasn’t prepared when he pushed me back. His absence left me to swallow the pool of saliva that tasted thickly of him, and I licked around my lips for lingering traces of his essence. I was still chasing them when he unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out through the opening.

  My stomach cramped, and I was ready to slide onto the floor. Kneel between his legs and take his length deep into my mouth. But before I could shift off the bench seat, he beckoned to me.

  “Come here, Beauty.” He smoothed his palms over his thighs to indicate the seat he’d made. His erection stood tall in the center, flushed purple-red and lined with veins leading to the velvety cap of his crown.

  “You want me to…” I swallowed.

  Beck nodded.

  Lust sweetened the air.

  The limousine rolled along as I rose, pushing at the waistband of my leggings while glancing toward the driver’s seat where Colette manned the wheel.

  “What if she…” I crept close enough for Beck to snag me and spin me around before pulling my body against his. The stretchy fabric I’d been fussing with rolled down to my thighs, taking my underwear with it and leaving my ass exposed.

  My breath caught as Beck lowered me, spreading my cheeks to make room for his blunt tip to prod my entrance.

  “Open up,” Beck whispered as I descended onto his length.

  I was already damp with slick that aided his entry, and my cock jerked needfully as he pushed inside. I exhaled a breath as long as every inch he thrust into me.

  I’d barely settled before I heard the zip of the seatbelt being stretched across my lap. The strap pinned my cock against my stomach and trapped me on top of Beck. Then the buckle clicked, and he gave the strap a tug that drove his shaft deep enough to make me gasp.

  “Quiet, Beauty,” he whispered in my ear. “Colette has sensitive hearing. Don’t want her to find out what a needy boy you are for me.”

  Shivers raced down my legs. Being perched like this forced my knees wide and left my feet dangling. I fumbled to find some part of Beck I could hold on to while my cock wept beneath the seatbelt.

  When the limo dipped into a pothole, Beck’s cock shifted inside me, rubbing against a spot that made my body jolt. I moaned, eyes rolling back, just as his fingers slipped past my lips. My head fell against his shoulder, and I closed my mouth around him, whimpering softly as I alternated between sucking and catching shallow breaths.

  Sex was sustenance to me, but not the way Maslow had twisted it, all transaction and emptiness. This was something richer. Something far more satisfying. And I didn’t just crave it in my body, I wanted it in my mouth.