Chapter 2

Beatrice

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I grumbled as I sipped my drink. It was some fruity concoction Persephone had picked out for me—a bright pink drink with glitter in it. The bartender hadn’t been amused when I’d asked how many unicorns they’d had to grind up to make the drink. “This is not my kind of place.”

“We both need this adventure,” Persephone insisted as she looked around The Cauldron. I’d heard of the club, but I’d never been before tonight. Other than Persephone, I didn’t have any close friends. I was an outcast—a shapeshifting witch. My kind is considered the lowest of witches. That didn’t matter to Persephone, whose witch parents had kept her isolated from other witches growing up. She knew I was lower than her on the hierarchy, but she didn’t care. Persephone had decided upon meeting me that we would be best friends. Since we now shared an apartment, it seemed she was right.

We were nothing alike. With her red hair and green eyes, Persephone looked sweet and innocent. I had black hair and unnaturally green eyes. My eye color added to the belief some witches held about shapeshifting witches being part demon. Our differences went beyond appearance. While Persephone was excited about exploring the world, I was jaded about most things.

“What kind of adventure are we going to have?” I asked my friend. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that her energy rubbed off on me at times. When she’d asked me to go to the club with her, I’d initially refused. Then, she’d started talking about how exciting it would be to have a night out.

“We should meet two handsome warlocks and dance the night away,” Persephone suggested.

I laughed at her zeal. “The whole night?” I asked. “Maybe we should start out slow and dance once or twice.”

“The whole night,” she insisted. “Then we can have torrid affairs with our handsome warlocks.”

“Why warlocks?” I asked with a grin. “How about a torrid affair with a sex demon?” If I was going to have an affair, a sex demon seemed like a better choice.

Persephone giggled. “My mother would lose her mind. She’s already beyond shocked that I’m working for a succubus.”

Persephone’s parents were extremely overprotective. Surprisingly, her parents had no issues with shapeshifting witches, and they’d even told her they were happy she was living with me.

A man approached us, his eyes on Persephone. I didn’t blame him. She looked great in her short red dress. He smiled and tried to make eye contact with her, but my friend was looking at her empty drink, oblivious to the attention. “I should get another one of these,” she announced.

“Can I buy you a drink?” the guy asked Persephone. With blond hair, blue eyes, and dimples, he was attractive, in a clean-cut, boy-next-door kind of way—exactly the type of guy I pictured my friend dating.

“I can order another one when our waitress comes by the table again,” Persephone replied with a bright smile. “That is very sweet of you to offer.”

“She likes to dance,” I told her suitor.

“I really do,” Persephone agreed with a wistful smile.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked her.

She looked like she was about to say no, probably worried about leaving me on my own. My friend still didn’t believe me when I told her I didn’t mind being on my own. “She’d love to,” I answered. As my grinning friend was led to the dance floor, I couldn’t hold back my own smile. Persephone definitely deserved an adventure—maybe nothing as exciting as a torrid affair, but she could dance the night away.

My eyes scanned the room and landed on the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was tall, at least a foot taller than me. His long brown hair was pulled back from a face that was a work of art with full lips and sculpted cheekbones. A neatly trimmed beard covered his chin. I was getting turned on from simply looking at the man. That never happened. I wasn’t the type to react this strongly to a man.

Before I could look away, his gaze moved in my direction and locked with mine. I found it impossible to look away. Reaching out blindly, I grabbed my drink and brought it to my lips just to give myself something to do. His full lips lifted, and his grin had me fighting the urge to squirm in my seat. Seriously, who was this guy, and why was I reacting this way to him?

Naturally, the woman by his side was gorgeous, with long purple hair and a curvy frame. When he turned to say something to her, I figured the moment was over. At least, that’s what I thought, until he left the pinup girl and began walking my way. My eyes widened as I watched his leisurely approach. They narrowed when he arrogantly sat across from me at the table as if he had the right to join me without asking first.

“Please, have a seat,” I muttered. It didn’t matter how hot this guy was; he could have at least asked before taking a seat at the table.

His lips twitched as he regarded me. “You have the most amazing eyes.”

I snorted at his comment and grabbed my purse, preparing to move. “First, you just sit down at my table without checking to make sure I’m okay with you joining me. That I can accept. We’re in a public place, and I don’t own this table. The line about my eyes? That’s too much. Maybe you should head back over to the woman who’s shooting daggers at me.”

Before I could get to my feet, he was across the table and at my side. “Don’t go. Let’s start over. I’m out of practice with this sort of thing.”

I should leave. Unlike Persephone, I wasn’t interested in having any adventures. Still, what harm could there be in spending a little time with him? There was no denying he was nice to look at. Besides, it would make Persephone happy if I flirted a little.

Relaxing back into my seat, I waited for him to say something.

“May I join you?” he asked with a smirk that somehow looked more endearing than irritating.

“Sure,” I replied with a shrug.

“You don’t seem thrilled with the prospect,” he stated as he took the seat to my left, much too close to my side. “For the record, I wasn’t giving you some line. Your eyes truly are an extraordinary shade of green. They practically glow, especially when you’re angry.”

“We should probably start over,” I began. “It seems we’re both out of practice with this whole socializing thing.”

“That is an excellent idea,” he agreed. “Where should we start?”

“How about our names?” I suggested, extending a hand. “I’m Beatrice.”