That hand slid along my arm in the lightest of caresses, belying strength that had bested even a Pureblood in a fight. Beside me, Billy inclined his head.

“Rafe,” Billy rumbled. Then he got up and winked at me. “See ya later.”

I didn’t protest Billy’s departure. Acting flustered would have been the same as slapping a sign on my forehead that said Too Damned Interested For My Own Good.

I tipped my mug at the man as he slid into Billy’s seat, admiring Rafael out of the corner of my eye. He moved with a beautiful, controlled fluidity, each gesture full of grace and purpose. His long jacket was open, revealing the trademark black leather vest studded with thin knives over a dark blue shirt. Only Rafael could make post-apocalyptic fashions look sexy.

“You’ve been away a long time,” Rafael said, his voice soft compared to the gaze he lasered on me.

I shrugged, glancing back to the scarred wooden bar instead of his vibrant blue eyes. “Technically, with how it’s always the same endless night here, I haven’t been gone at all—”

“Weeks,” he cut me off as his tone hardened. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I took another swallow of my beer, but not even supernatural liquor could suppress my shiver as I turned to stare fully at Rafael. His golden-red hair and cobalt eyes accentuated high cheekbones and a face that could make angels weep with jealousy. If it wasn’t for his deadliness, Rafael’s ethereal looks might invite constant challenges to his being ruler. But the three-quarter demon was as ruthless as he was dazzling, enabling him to stay in control of Nocturna for the past two hundred years. He could rule for the next two hundred if he could hold off future challengers. Time froze in Nocturna. Night didn’t turn into day, seasons didn’t change, and even aging stopped—one of the big lures of living in a secondary dimension versus the modernized world.

And I had to stop letting Rafael get to me, especially when I wasn’t sure if he was helping Purebloods shuttle Partials from this realm to the next.