Sins of the Flesh

But something stopped her. The flash of insight that told her it was this man she would take inside her tonight.

Calliope was a blooded Daughter of Aset. All her kind had unique abilities that played up the natural talents they had had while still mortal. Prescience was Calliope’s gift. She had been intuitive as a mortal; as a supernatural, she was hyperaware of coming events. Not that she could tell the future—she couldn’t. It was more of an instinct that things were going to happen and a knowledge of who might be involved in those things.

Outcomes were changeable. Her prescience didn’t account for every possible choice of free will. But it did give her an edge as events unfolded. She had the ability to see what would come, not in clear, distinct panorama, but in hints and whispers.

So she knew he was the one she’d come here to find. With him, she would drop her walls, at least as much as she ever allowed herself. For a few moments she would give in to the hunger, until she went back to who she was, who she would always be.

He was smiling now, teeth flashing animal white.

Leaning close to her so his voice would carry over the music, he said, “Do I know you, darlin’? I’d swear we’ve met, except I’m usually good with faces and I can’t seem to place yours.”

“You’ve met me now,” she said. And after tonight, they would never meet again. “Come.” She reached out to lace her fingers with his as she offered him a smile that told him everything he needed to know.

For a millisecond, she felt a crackle of energy, and she froze, thinking she’d made an error, that this man whom she’d read as human, wasn’t. She felt the molecules of air hum and vibrate, not quite strongly enough to be a supernatural’s energy signature, but there was something…

She reached for it, tried to place it, but in the end found nothing.

It was only static electricity. She was being too cautious, too suspicious. He was human. He was mortal.

Which made him fair game.

She had never taken from a supernatural. Not sex. Not blood. She wanted no one from her world. She wanted a man, a human man. And when she was done with him, she wanted him to go away.

“Come,” she said again, modulating her voice an octave lower than her usual range. Then she led him toward the back of the club, keeping hold on his hand as they wove between tables and bodies.

He appeared content to follow, staying close at her back so every few steps his thighs brushed the back of hers, or he bumped up against her buttocks. She thought those touches were no accident.

They made her uncomfortable.

This encounter was hers to control. Her terms. Her way. She would take. And she would give only as much as she wished. There was no other way that she could bear to do this.

She led him down a narrow hall then pushed open a door and led him down a flight of metal stairs to the basement. The door swung shut behind them, muting the overpowering volume of the music.

There came a soft laugh from behind her.

“You’ve done this before?” His voice sent a little shiver rippling up her spine.

“No.” She hadn’t done this before. Not here. Not in this particular club. But there had been many others over the years.

Again, that soft laugh, warmly encompassing, as though they shared a secret. She thought he did this far more often than she. But tonight, she meant to give herself this. A brief encounter of skin against skin and the feeling of a man stretching her, filling her. She would free her rigid control—not completely, but enough—just for a handful of moments, and then she would be herself once more.

She opened a door and led him through a cluttered storage room to a second door at the far end. Then she opened that as well and led him inside.

There was a single tiny window set high in the wall. It let in just enough ambient light that she could see the stacks of chairs and folded tables and several large boxes set in the corner. She’d been here earlier and made small preparations, taking a chair off the stack and setting it apart from the clutter.

“I have a comfortable bed less than ten minutes away…” Her prey’s voice trailed off in suggestion.

“No,” she said softly. “Here is fine.” Better than fine. Perfect. She didn’t want to lie in his bed. She didn’t want to be inside his home. She didn’t want to see personal things like photos or a book lying on a bedside table. She didn’t want to know where he lived or anything else about him.

And that wouldn’t matter to him. She’d watched him tonight before she made her move. He wanted what she wanted. Sex. No strings.