Friday night and Hell’s Chapel was dead. Not as in everyone was dead. Merely that the place was fucking empty.

On a Friday.

I leaned against the bar, elbows propped on the spelled surface. After the first time the polished wood had been destroyed, I paid for the strongest protections for the thing. It’d even become the center of a drinking game—break it or booze it. They managed to hurt my baby, they drank on the house for the night. They didn’t and they bought a round for everyone in the house.

Really, it was pretty win-win for me since I knew nothing was happening to the pretty… I petted the glistening wood, my reflection visible in the polished surface and…

Dude. I needed to get my roots done. I flattened my hair with my hands, staring at the inch of black and the abrupt line where some strands flipped to purple. Maybe I’d try blue next. Maybe I’d…

Ugh. An empty bar on Friday night was so boring. I let my head fall forward and rested my forehead on the cool, smooth wood. The magic imbued in the bar pulsed against my skin, not rejecting me, but not welcoming me either.

Whatever. I didn’t want to play with it anyway.

I straightened and counted the empty stools, the ones normally filled with my regulars. From trolls to elves and the occasional imp. I used to have leprechauns all the time, but they’d headed out west during the gold rush. Nothing like gold to lure those guys away.

But at the moment, eight out of ten stools were empty, my regulars nowhere to be found.

Ronum, a grumpy old troll who came rain or shine, hurricane or snow storm, thumped his glass on the bar and I grunted in return. At least I had something to do other than pout. I grabbed a new glass from beneath the bar and pulled his beer, sliding it to him before snatching the empty.

“Quiet night,” I murmured, and Ronum glared at me with one eye.

“Date night,” he snorted and a bubble of snot escaped his nose.

I ignored it. I’d had six hundred years of practice. I knew how to ignore icky. “What’s that?”

“They all have dates.” Ronum waved his massive hand toward the empty seats. “Quaz picked up some pixie chick the other night and hasn’t left her meadow since.” I wasn’t attracted to the imp, but imps and pixies did have the mischievous thing in common. I could see it. “And Cleft got himself a hot date with a centaur.” Well, Cleft was a satyr and had hooves and so did centaurs, so maybe that worked for them. “I tried to tell him to watch his ass. Those fillies kick something fierce.”

I frowned, staring at the line of stools, squinting as if there was something to see that I just wasn’t catching. I’d noticed things were more bow-chicka-bow-bow than usual, but now it was messing with my business. Then I still had Bry’s strange writing and Mitchell’s condition on my mind. Though… Mitchell got fucked after he’d fucked that redhead…

I was still trying to puzzle through it all when Jezze strolled in the door with a skip in her step and a big grin on her face. Which just… annoyed the fuck outta me. I had drama llama closing in on me from all sides. Between business being slow, my son apparently learning a language that no one knew and the thing with Mitchell, I was sporting a pretty short fuse.

“You’re late,” I snapped at her.

“Gee, boss, lighten up.” Jezze rolled her eyes and rounded the bar. She tucked her purse away and snatched an apron. “I’ve been late before.”

“Jezze,” I pushed her name past gritted teeth. “You’re four hours late.”

Four hours late. Hinky shit was going on and she hadn’t even bothered to call.

Gah, I sounded like such a… parent.

“Oh.” She blushed and focused on tying her apron. “Sorry. Seriously. I didn’t realize we went that long.”

“We? We who?” I planted a hand on my hip and just waited. Yeah, I’m her boss, but I’m also her best friend. I wanted the deets. I could go back to being angry once she told me everything.

“My new guy.” She bit her lower lip and gave me a wicked grin. “We’ve been, uh, trying new things.”

“Butt stuff?” I opened my eyes wide. Jezze had a firm “exit only” policy when it came to her ass. But, from the way she blushed even redder and turned away, I got the feeling she might have finally crossed that line.

I watched my best friend moving slowly around the room, handling busy work. Her doing butt stuff was her business, but to give it up to a guy after all these years? Someone new? That just—I shook my head—that didn’t track.

This was simply more evidence that Orlando was infected with some kind of love bug and it was affecting residents’ behavior. Even Sam and I had been getting busy more often lately and we usually fucked like bunnies without outside influences. It made me wonder if whatever the hell this was affected us as well.

I seriously hoped not. I didn’t have the time or patience to be possessed this week.

Eventually what few customers I had wandered off, leaving the place empty. Just… empty. Yeah, I wasn’t sticking around any longer and Jezze looked like she was jonesing to get back to her “new guy.”

I ended up closing shop early and grabbing Bry from Papa Leth’s. He informed me that my son was clean and enjoyed eating bath crayons. I was also told that Bry needed to build up the strength in his arms since Papa Leth had already commissioned a sword.

For my toddler.

Right. I just nodded and tucked my sleeping son against my chest, carefully getting him situated in his car seat before beginning our quick drive home. Bryony slept soundly during the drive and remained knocked out while I tucked him into bed.

I slowly, silently tugged the door closed behind me, baby monitor hooked to my pants, and called Sam. I needed my mate tonight, needed to feel his body next to mine, his strength filling me with his mere presence.

The low knock on the front door drew me and I tugged it open with a smile. “Hey you.”

“Amica,” he murmured, stepping inside. He’d brought wine again, something sweet that really appealed to my unicorn nature, but I shied away from it.

Romance, passion, sex… Lucia. Bry. All of them tangled in my head, twisting and turning until I couldn’t separate the concepts—the surety that they were all connected in some way.

Tonight, I wanted a simple night with my man. If we couldn’t figure out what was going on in the city, I at least wanted a hint of normalcy to balance things out.

“Come sit with me.” I twined my fingers with his, tugging him toward the living room. “Come lay with me.”

The growing desire in his eyes lowered to a simmer, as if he sensed what I needed from him wasn’t sex but comfort. Fuck me sideways. I needed comfort.

What the fuck was up with that?

We sat on the couch—newly repaired thanks to my kickass brownies—and snuggled close. The TV was on, but we didn’t really pay attention, just enjoying the feel of skin on skin. It blurred into background noise and I tuned it out, focusing on my mate—his nearness, his scent.

A small wave of dizziness overcame me, almost like I was starting to get tipsy, but I hadn’t had anything to drink. The wine would have tasted nice, but I wouldn’t have experienced the effects of the alcohol like humans.

I shook my head, blinking my eyes quickly, trying to clear away the soft web covering my mind. And that just had me noticing the TV again and I sneered at the infomercial playing on the screen. That fancy perfume again, the male actor with rock hard abs lusting after the female actor with her perfect body and—coincidentally—she was wearing that perfume. Lame.

I flicked the TV off. The last thing we needed was to be reminded about love and romance. Besides, I definitely didn’t need a perfume that promised to make my mate lose control. Whether I liked it or not, I had to help Sam keep his cock in check. Otherwise, I risked losing him forever.