Chapter One

      Dominic strolled down the sidewalk, face to the sky yet hyperaware of his surroundings. He knew this path, from parking garage to the club’s rear entrance. He’d walked it more than a thousand times. No doubt it would have been faster, maybe safer, to take the garage’s elevator, but he needed to see the stars. They served as a reminder of what his life had been—just as the vacuum where his wings had been did. Together the reminders kept him grounded.

      He snorted. “Grounded. Prime word choice.”

      A homeless guy crouched by the back door to Desire—Atlanta’s hottest nightclub. He looked up at Dominic and smiled, his mouth missing more teeth than it retained.

      “Hey, Pistol Pete. How’s it hangin’?” Digging through his pockets, Dominic pulled out a twenty and tossed it into the guy’s grungy plastic cup. “Tuck that away. I’ll order a pizza and have it delivered out here, cool?”

      The man mumbled his thanks and a generic blessing.

      Dominic waved him off. Thanks he could handle. Blessings got a little sticky, though. He rolled his shoulders, drew in a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. Time to put on his public persona.

      Pasting a congenial smile on his face, he shoved through the doors to the nightclub.

      His gig as head of security was pretty tight. Griff, the owner and an incubus, and Seth, the general manager and a rare type of djinn called an ifrit, were awesome to work for. They’d even become friends over the years.

      “An incubus, djinn and nephilim walk into a bar,” Dominic called through the silent club.

      Seth stepped out from behind the bar, wiping his hands on a towel. “The djinn is clearly superior and would never serve as the butt of a fallen angel’s moronic joke. Since the incubus is currently upstairs getting laid, he can be the fall guy.” They met on the empty dance floor and gripped hands, thumping each other on the back.

      Breaking away, Dominic pushed his hair off his face. “So Griff’s upstairs with Bailey, huh?” He was glad the two had—finally—hooked up. It seemed like they’d found the real deal. The happy-crappy stuff could choke him a little at times, but he’d suck it up for Griff’s sake. Bailey’s, too, for that matter. That he was a little—or a lot—jealous of what they seem to have found so easily wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

      “We still on for poker at your place Sunday?”

      “Yeah. And Griff’ll be there if I have to roll his naked ass up in a sheet and drag him out of that apartment.” Seth considered him, his stare a mask of collected calm. “As for you? No cheating this week, asshole.” Without warning, he cracked Dominic’s thigh with the bar towel.

      Dominic danced backward, rubbing the stinging spot. “Ow! That hurt, bitch.”

      The djinn chuckled as he turned to the bar. “For such a big guy, you’re a complete wuss. Sometimes I have to wonder if you really were a battle angel. You could have been a gardener for all I know.”

      “And for a genie, your servitude button’s broken. Whoever rubbed your bottle must have been pissed at the payback.”

      Seth glanced over his shoulder as he slid behind the slick mahogany counter. “I don’t serve anyone but myself, my friend.”

      “Whatevs.” Pulling out his cell, Dominic hit speed dial for the pizza joint around the corner as he walked into his office. “Mike, it’s