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I could barely contain my excitement. “I’m actually acting as an... advisor of sorts for a budding author, helping her finalize her debut book. It’s a paranormal romance—grumpy wolf shifter, sunshine witch—and the romance was enough to make evenmeswoon.”

The vampire quirked a brow, intrigue flickering in his sharp yellow eyes. “A paranormal romance with sex scenes approved by an incubus? That might be exactly what Dean’s looking for.”

He extended a hand to shake mine but hesitated halfway, reconsidering. “I’m eager to read it, so... probably best not to mess around with an incubus’s touch.” Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek black card, and set it on the bar in front of me.

“The name’s Gavin Varrow. Tell your author to send the manuscript my way, along with an estimated publication date when she’s ready. If I like what I read, I’ll pass it on to Dean for consideration.”

Before I could thank him, a sharp chime cut through the conversation. Gavin glanced at his phone, then smirked. “Speakof the Devil,” he murmured, pushing to his feet. He answered the call with a casual, “Hi, Dean,” then pointed at the card and mouthed, “Call me!” before striding out of the bar.

I slipped the card eagerly into my pocket.If nothing else, at least I might be able to give Jen a shot at making it to the #IReadItBeforeItWasFamous shelf.

Behind me, a clink of glass caught my attention. The bartender had set down two martini glasses filled with glowing, acid-green liquid.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked, reaching for the wad of cash in my pocket.

She slid a napkin across the bar instead, her number scrawled in looping script. “Just a phone call,” she said with a wink. Before I could respond, an irate customer at the other end of the bar called for her attention, sparing me from an awkward refusal.

I grabbed the drinks and made my way back to Jen, sliding one in front of her as I dropped into the seat beside her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her gaze flicking from the drink to the napkin still in my hand. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “You already got a number? Looks like you don’t need my help at all.”

“She thought I looked like George Clooney,” I replied dryly.

Jen snorted. “Young or old? Actually, doesn’t matter—both are hot.”

An odd spike of jealousy settled low in my stomach, sharp and unwelcome.

“Her number isn’t the only one I got,” I said, pulling out the vampire’s card and sliding it toward Jen.

My excitement dimmed slightly when Jen didn’t mirror it.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“The vampire at the bar,” I explained. “He works at a Sinclair bookstore.”

Jen glanced toward the bar, then back at me. “Okay?”

I leaned in slightly, my own enthusiasm making up for hers. “And I told him about your book.”

Her brows furrowed. “And?”

“Andhe wants to read it,” I said, unable to stop the grin forming on my lips. “If he likes it, he’ll pass it on to Dean Sinclair for consideration.”

“Who?”

I felt my nose scrunch. “Have you been living under a rock for the last decade?” I joked. “Dean Sinclair.If he picks your book for his #IReadItBeforeItWasFamous shelf, you’ll be an overnight sensation.”

Jen’s fingers stilled against the card. When she looked up at me, her expression was unreadable. “Not a rock,” she said quietly. “Prison,remember?”

My stomach plummeted. “Jen, I forgot. I’m so sor—”

She waved a hand, cutting me off. “Don’t be,” she said simply. Then, after a pause, she turned the card over again, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Thank you, Devlin,” she murmured. “I really appreciate it.”

Jen made an awkward motion, half-lifting her arms like she was about to hug me—only to hesitate at the last second. Unfortunately for her, my body had already decided we weredoing this, instinctively leaning in to meet her. What followed was a spectacularly uncomfortable mess of tangled limbs, a hesitant pat on my back from Jen, the unexpected, delicious burn of her cheek grazing my jawline, and—because of course—an instant, painfully obvious erection.

Yeah. Turns out, without my incubus magic smoothing things over, I wasan absolute disaster.

I sat back, willing my body tocalm the fuck down, while Jen shifted beside me, scanning the crowd, presumably searching for someone for me to flirt with, and thankfully not looking down atthe bulge in my pants. I, meanwhile, was desperately trying not to think about the way her body had just pressed against mine—or howverybadly I wanted it to happen again.