Caelan is going crazy, or at least that’s what it feels like. He’s having blackouts, waking up in places he can’t remember going to, losing hours and sometimes even days, and he has no idea what he does during the times he can’t remember.
Until he wakes up to find a severed head on his bed.
Jordan didn’t mean to get involved in this case. He’s a detective, a human detective, and he shouldn’t care what happens to demons. He doesn’t even like demons. But when more and more of them are found torn apart, he worries and decides to give the League the info so they can do something about it before more people get hurt.
The last person Jordan would have suspected of being behind the brutal murders is Aiden’s pretty, delicate-looking brother. When he finds Caelan with yet another body, he surprises himself by taking Caelan home rather than delivering him to the League. He’s even more surprised when the League decides to help.
They might not be able to, though, because Caelan is possessed, and the demon inside him is strong. Is it too strong for Caelan to survive? And why does Jordan feel the need to stick by Caelan and make sure he’ll be okay? What will that mean for his job—for his life?
Oh my God, Trisha! What have you done? Aiden Fox stood, a tad dumbfounded, in the only five-star hotel in town, feeling as though he’d wandered right into the middle of one of those fancy Russian Fabergé eggs. Thank God he’d parked the beat-up piece of crap he called his car at the back of the hotel. The body was more than a little rusty. No need to scare the nobles with his deathtrap of a car.
For a tailor such as Aiden, the hotel represented heaven. Shades of gold, bronze, and pearl surrounded him. He walked beneath glittering crystal chandeliers over a thick, golden-yellow carpet. Heavy brocade drapes in slightly paler shades covered the windows. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to admire the interior design.
Aiden winced when he rounded a corner and fifty shades of pink assaulted his retinas. A sure sign Patricia “Trisha” Wintash, his client, had caused havoc among those posh halls. Or, more likely, her decoration crew was to blame. Even out-and-proud Aiden thought the décor too flamboyant and excessive.
He shuddered and walked farther down the hallway. His mission was to find a surely hysterical Trisha and rescue her perfect wedding dress. Brides were unpredictable by definition. God knew he’d be a nervous wreck, too, if he ever managed to catch a man willing to marry him.
Aiden loved to care for his clients, but Trisha’s teary emergency call that afternoon had thrown his plans for a lazy day on his sofa into disarray. For months, Aiden had sat at the sewing machine with the damn dress, working overtime in his little tailor shop to finish it right in time for the wedding. Now she had an imaginary problem—just what it was Aiden hadn’t been able to filter from her rambling—with the wickedly expensive creation of silk and lace.
Convincing her that she looked perfect, adorable, and like the most beautiful bride ever was on the top of Aiden’s priority list. Trisha would love him, her daddy would love that his little girl was happy and smiling again, and Aiden would receive a splendid recommendation which would help his business. Win-win situation.
A wedding like Trisha’s, with both bride and groom belonging to the upper crust of Maryland, was the opportunity to gain new and well-off clients. Aiden desperately needed some good news right now. He’d opened his shop a year ago, and each day was a small struggle for success and independence.
Money was tight. Although he always managed to feed himself and his fat cat, Button, some months he barely scraped by. His private life? Oh, boy. Despair, thy name is Aiden.
A few steps ahead of him, a door opened, and he could hear Trisha’s nasal voice. Please let me solve her problem quickly. The noise level coming from the room increased as a man stepped out into the hallway, and suddenly Aiden was eye to eye with… “Anthony?”
Aiden came to an immediate halt, his feet glued to the thousand-dollar carpet. He stared openmouthed at the man he thought he’d never see again. Dressed in a stunning tuxedo that was maybe a tad stuffy, but which suited his tall frame, he looked the same as the night of their disastrous dinner but…totally different.
The hot guy had sauntered into his shop a month ago. Aiden had always had a soft spot for tall, dark, and handsome. Add a pair of light brown eyes and Aiden had been swooning. However, Anthony had turned out to be a real prick. Aiden had severed all contact with Anthony after their last date. Why were handsome guys always straight or assholes?
Aiden’s face flushed hot. “Anthony?” he asked again. Inwardly, he cursed the fact his voice wasn’t as steady as he’d have liked it to be.
Anthony faced him, his expression changing from clearly exhausted to questioning. “Yes? May I help you?” He added a raised eyebrow to his puzzled question. His voice sounded different. It held a soft timbre Aiden had never heard from him before. Smooth, like honey.
Aiden felt his knees turn to jelly. Stupid. He was stupid, no other explanation needed. Anthony was a douche, a bastard who’d played with him just to find a way into his pants. Aiden shouldn’t be drooling over Mr. Dark and Sexy. He was a bit taken aback by his strong reaction.
It wasn’t much, but Aiden scraped up the last morsels of his battered dignity and pulled back his shoulders. “What are you doing here? Are you a friend of the Wintash family?”
Anthony now turned his whole body to face him and took two steps forward. “I’m sorry? Do we know each other?”
The bastard had the guts to act as though they’d never met before? Aiden scoffed. “You think you’re one hell of an actor, huh?” Aiden fisted his hands on his hips. “Look, it’s no big deal. We dated, it didn’t work out. No hard feelings. But there’s no reason for you to act as though we don’t know each other. You’re not a celebrity who needs to be afraid of his reputation.” Okay, maybe he’d snapped the last word. Maybe he’d even glowered at the sexy guy.
Instead of snapping back, Anthony remained polite. “This is a misunderstanding. I apologize, but now isn’t the best moment for a conversation. My brother will be getting married in two hours, I hope, and the bride is…” He trailed off and waved his hand dismissively.
Aiden hated it when people avoided arguments by staying cool and collected. Faced with so much bullshit, Aiden was at the end of his tether. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Oops. These halls had one hell of an echo. Aiden quickly clapped his hand over his mouth, knowing he was getting redder with every moment that passed. Not a good color for his fair complexion. Aiden rarely lost control. At least, not in public places. “Sorry—”