Crystal Jordan: Night Games

“You look hot, baby.”

A low wolf whistle pierced the air, and Selina turned away from the window where she was standing, her eyebrow arching high. The sight of a woman in a long, shimmery wedding gown and a leer on her face made her snort. Chloe Standish of the wealthy, influential Standish witch family was not your average bride. Chloe’s best friend, Tess Jones, chortled as she walked out of the bathroom to join them in the big bedroom.

When Selina spoke, her tone was wry. “Thanks, you’re going to make Merek jealous.”

If anyone besides Merek had asked her to be in a wedding, she’d have laughed in his face. But the big warlock used to be her partner in the Seattle Police Department’s Magickal Task Force. The years together meant she’d developed an unfortunate weak spot for the man. Which meant she was not only attending his wedding to a high-society bride, but she was in the wedding party. And wearing a damn dress. She hadn’t worn a dress in at least a decade, and this thing was tight enough to count as a second skin. She had no idea how women wore shit like this on a daily basis, especially considering the high heels were killing her toes.

Uncomfortable was something of an understatement for the day. Her boss, her boss’s boss, and his boss were all at the wedding. Along with every important Magickal law enforcement officer in the city, state, and country, the mayor, and several senators and congressmen who happened to be Magickals as well as elected officials. And they’d all be watching her shimmy up the aisle because the way she had to move in this getup couldn’t be called a regular walk.

Good thing they’d never tapped her to go undercover as a hooker in a prostitution bust. She’d never have pulled it off. Then again, coy flirting had never been her forte. Either a man wanted her or he didn’t. And she wanted him back or she didn’t. End of story. No need to beat around the bush with stupid little mind games. Modern courtship was for the birds. Most of her lovers in the last few years were older Magickals like her, who’d been around the block a dozen times and didn’t want to mess around with all this love and dating crap.

Even then, it had been many months since she’d bothered with sex. Too busy with work, but she’d gone through longer dry spells before, so she didn’t worry about it. If she wanted some play, she could get it. Her hormones decided to give a sharp wail at that moment, telling her that they damn well wanted some play, even if the rest of her was wrapped up in police work.

The bride shrugged, her grin widening. “Merek knows I don’t bat for the other team. But since he’s a guy and that’s how they are, I wouldn’t put it past him to want to watch us together.”

Selina rolled her eyes, but didn’t deny that the other woman was probably right. Men. It didn’t matter their species—Normal or Magickal—they were all the same. “That is both disturbing and typical, all at the same time.”

Turning toward a floor-length mirror, Chloe checked her makeup one last time and straightened the little pillbox hat and short veil she wore. After her parents died, the witch had lived in her Aunt Millie’s mansion in Upper Queen Anne. Selina was pretty sure the old woman had been around in the 1800s when the palatial Victorian-style home had been built. Mildred Standish was a mover and shaker in the Magickal community, representing the Witch Coven on the All-Magickal Council. Everyone knew her name and her fearsome reputation.

It felt more than a little odd to be standing in the woman’s house, but everything about this day was designed to throw Selina off-kilter, so she ignored it and went to help Tess straighten the back of Chloe’s dress.

Tess’s long red hair fell forward to cover her face when she bent down. “I’m just glad Merek didn’t add me to that little fantasy.”

“Oh, he so would. Three hot chicks going at it for his entertainment? Or maybe just the two of you, since he’s probably too possessive to share me.” Chloe’s hazel eyes sparkled as her reflection met Selina’s gaze. “Men. Can’t live with them, illegal to kill them.”

“ Mostly illegal.” Selina winked.

“Yeah, damn. There’s that whole having-a-badge thing.”

She arched an eyebrow. “It has its trade-offs for the lousy hours and bad coffee.”

“Cavalli”—Tess sneered the name, referring to her ex-boyfriend and current boss, and her eyes went wolfish, her werewolf fangs sliding down in sharp, deadly points—“installed a fancy espresso machine in the FBI office.”

Heavy, awkward silence filled the room. None of them particularly cared to think about why Tess hated Luca Cavalli so much. Betrayal was an ugly thing. Tess had been Normal this time last year and totally in the dark about magic existing in the world. She’d been dating Luca, who was a vampire; was best friends with Chloe, a witch; and she’d gotten tangled up in a plot by werewolf terrorists to steal the formula Chloe was working on to control the worst effects of werewolves’ full-moon madness. During a fight for their lives, Tess had been bitten by a terrorist and barely survived the Change.

Somehow, Tess had gotten over the fact that Chloe had been lying to her for their entire friendship, but she hated Luca with the fire of a thousand suns. Then again, he was a vampire and she was a werewolf. The two didn’t mix, so even if they still loved each other, there was nothing that could come of it.

Perhaps it was a mercy that Tess hated him.

In the end, there was nothing Chloe or Luca could have done to clue Tess in on magic before she’d been bitten. Magickals had strict secrecy laws. To reveal magic to a Normal without authorization was forbidden, and if you were a werewolf or a vampire and you turned a Normal into a Magickal without permission, it resulted in a death sentence. No questions asked. No appeal allowed.

It might seem harsh, but Selina had been around back when witch trials and vampire hunting had been fashionable. She’d watched good Magickals be murdered because people couldn’t keep their mouths shut. So when the All-Magickal Council had enacted non-disclosure laws, Selina had fully supported them. Her job as a detective meant she helped ruthlessly enforce the rules and had very little sympathy for those who broke them. Did that make her a coldhearted bitch? Probably. She’d been called a lot worse. They didn’t refer to her as an ice queen in the department for no reason. It mostly just amused her. She’d more than earned her considerable reputation.

“Cavalli loves his fancy coffee.” Tess’s jaw jutted, her face flushing with anger.

Remorse shaded Chloe’s expression. As the person who’d kept the truth from her friend the longest, Chloe still had a lot of guilt over what had happened. She cleared her throat. “Your fangs are showing, hon. Tuck those back in, would you? Millie will kill you if you mess up the pictures.”

Tess snorted, and the fangs retracted.

Delivering a final tweak to Chloe’s dress, Selina tried to break some of the tension. “Does this espresso machine come with a barista? Because I don’t deal with that thirty-seven-knobs-and-buttons shit. I like the put-in-the-grinds-and-push-one-button model.”

“That’s so passé.” Chloe turned to face them, exaggerated disdain on her face. Her ebony hair was swept back from her forehead, and she looked like the kind of movie star who used to grace 1950s silver screens.

Selina waved a dismissive hand. “I’m a rebel. I kick it old-school.”