The woman took a step closer, eyes hopeful. “Are you looking for a human mate? I’ve been dying to meet an incubus. We all have.”

He slipped his arm around Rosalind’s waist, the bass vibrating through his skin. “I’ve chosen my courtesan for tonight.”

Courtesan. She was a Hunter, damn it. Or at least, she used to be, back when her life had a point. She schooled her face into a wide-eyed expression that she imagined courtesans wore, mouth slightly open. She tried to ignore the flash of self-loathing.

The blonde frowned, casting a critical eye over Rosalind’s body. “Her? Why? What’s so special about her?”

Rosalind opened her mouth to defend herself before realizing that she’d been about to extol her own virtues as a courtesan. So she did the wide-eyed thing again. Gods, kill me now.

A wicked grin flashed over Caine’s face. “She’s beautiful, obviously. But more importantly, she’s mute.”

Rosalind’s mouth clamped shut. Jerk.

Disappointed, the woman strutted away.

A mute, adoring woman—that would suit him. She gave his arm a squeeze that she hoped hurt just a little, but before they could move beyond the door’s entrance, another woman approached—this one clearly a demon. Seven feet tall, she wore a metallic gown that shimmered over her body like liquid mercury. Translucent black wings rose from her shoulders, a stark contrast to her platinum hair. Gray eyes bored into Rosalind.

Caine inclined his head. “Mist. Thank you for welcoming us.”

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said, eyes still lingering on Rosalind. “I see you brought a human. I trust you know the rules here. The only humans allowed must be courtesans, trained by Arielle in the art of serving demons.”

“Of course,” Caine said. “Arielle gave me this one as a gift. She loves to serve my needs.”

Rosalind cringed. The urge to roll her eyes was almost overpowering.

Mist scanned the length of Rosalind’s body, like she was assessing a prize horse. “She looks surprisingly strong for a courtesan.”

Caine slid his arm around her waist. “I chose her for that reason. I don’t like my girls to break when I play with them a little roughly.”

Rosalind bit down a retort. This excursion better be worth it.

“Well. Enjoy yourselves.” With a last, lingering glare at Rosalind, Mist slipped into the crowd like her namesake.

Caine held Rosalind’s hand, leading her further into the club. She tried not to stare at the demons and humans grinding against each other, or the nymphs gyrating in cages, wearing sequined pasties.

A few human men stood in archways, offering up their necks to female vamps, or following after them on leashes. All fairly pathetic from the human side of things.

As she and Caine pushed further into the club, Rosalind caught a glimpse of two female water nymphs wrestling in a sparkly liquid, surrounded by a crowd of leering male onlookers. The demons certainly had more exciting parties than the Brotherhood—she’d give them that—but she was completely out of place here.