Except he wasn’t. Everything was as it should be—the forest lit by moonlight, the distant glow of the clubhouse, the smell of burnt rubber from someone tearing out, the whistle of wind in the treetops, even the fact that he was naked. All normal . . . except for a man who could disappear.

Not a man. Not human, at least. When he looked at Beau, he knew everything Liv had told him was true. He hadn’t doubted it, not really. If she believed it and Gabriel believed it, then it must be true, because they were two of the most sensible and grounded people he knew. Yet he had still felt, if not doubt, then confusion, a sense that maybe, just maybe, there was another explanation. Now he knew there was not.

“I really feel we could do this better if you were dressed,” Beau said.

“No,” a woman’s voice whispered from the trees. “That would be such a shame.”

“He’s so pretty,” another giggled.

A third echoed with a lilting, “So very pretty.”

Fingers grazed his ass. He wheeled, but no one was there. He could hear more voices, whispers, and giggles, and feel tickling touches and strokes, fingers running down his cheeks, his thighs, his biceps . . . and elsewhere. He resisted the urge to shove them away. There was no one to shove.

Beau came close—too close. Smirking, as if expecting Ricky to back away. He stood his ground and let Beau step up until his hand brushed Ricky’s hip.

“Where is Olivia?” Ricky said.

“You are pretty.” Beau stroked his cheek. “Such a shame, really. There are so many powers. So many skills and abilities. And this is all your kind get. A pretty face and charming ways. That’s how you won her, you know. Fae charm.” His gaze slid down Ricky, lingering as it went. “As for the rest, if you’re going to fuck it, it helps if it looks deliciously fuckable. But mostly, it’s the charm. That really is all you have.”

“It’s served me well so far.”

“True. You’re very good at what you do. And what is that, again? Right, you’re a biker. The bar isn’t set too high there, is it? A pretty face and false charm. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.”

“But he’s Arawn,” one of the women whispered. “He doesn’t need power. He is power.”

Fingers slid across his thigh and stroked him. He held his ground and met Beau’s gaze. “Tell me where she is.”

“Mmm, what’s the rush? She’s safe. I promise you that. Relax.” Beau grinned. “Enjoy yourself.”