Fuck. Hadn’t Zee and the hairdresser said something about Oberon’s? But it hadn’t sounded nearly as tempting as when the word rolled off Abe’s tongue. Whatever Oberon’s was, she wanted to go with him. What was she doing here? She was here for him, wasn’t she? Here to please this god of a man. She felt her legs opening, and her hand slid up his chest. There was something she was supposed to be doing, but her mind was a blank.

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck, his eyes trailing down her heaving chest. A pleasurable heat radiated from his body, and she could think of nothing but his touch.

He lowered his mouth to hers, and for one glorious instant an inferno of euphoria flared—until it died as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a gnawing emptiness and overwhelming sense of revulsion.

Abe pulled away from her, his face contorted with disgust—just like Ursula felt. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, as if trying to wipe away her taste.

“Ugh.” Infuriated, he glared at her, gripping her wrist. “What the hell are you?”

Rage simmered in her chest. She was getting sick of being treated like a toy for the demons to play with. “I’m a hellhound.” Free of his spell, she could feel the fire rising through her arms, hot and molten. Abe jerked away from her, and she threw a hard punch at his pretty face, thrilling at the smack of knuckles against bone.

Abe’s head snapped back, and he growled. Faster than a storm wind, his hands were at her throat, and his cold stare hypnotized her. He opened his mouth, sucking in air from her body. As he did, a deep void filled her chest. She kicked his shins, but his eyes remained locked on her, unflinching.

Her blood rushed in her ears, her limbs tingling and weakening. What is he doing to me? She was going to die in the men’s bathroom at the hands of a pervert she’d just kissed. This was worse than the fake heroin overdose. Abe’s fingers dug into her neck, his icy eyes flashing with cold light.