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She angled her head towards him. “Avi said you were more than likely late for a meeting.”

A breathy laugh mingled with her hair. “I’m not exactly the most punctual person, but yeah, it was a meeting.”

She nuzzled her nose against his jaw, pieces of his hair tickling her cheek. “You didn’t need to come searching for me. I can find my way to you.”

His hand came around her waist, and he planted his palm on her stomach and eased her closer until her shoulder blades rested snug against his chest. “I didn’t want you to think I was too busy or intentionally left you behind?—”

The door to the VIP lounge swung open, and the pink-haired waitress appeared.

“Damian, can you not just—” At the sight of Naia, Violet beamed.

Naia grinned and slightly opened her arms, insinuating her permission for Violet to hug her.

A squeal leapt out of Violet as she jumped from foot-to-foot, attacking Naia in a hug of rosewater and lavender.

Ronin backed up to avoid the peppy witch’s grasp.

Violet broke away, holding Naia’s shoulders. “Oh my gods. It’s nice to finally tell you how much I’ve been dying to meet you. For years, I’ve pestered Ronin relentlessly to tell us who the woman was on our insignia. You are stunning!”

Naia hadn’t bothered putting her glamor back into place after Ronin asked her to remove it. And it certainly never crossed her mind she might be idolized by the Blood Heretics. If anything, she’d fully anticipated their disapproval of her divinity.

Naia smiled sheepishly. “Thank you. I love the color of your hair.”

“You’re so sweet!” She tugged Naia through the door by her hand. “Our meeting is practically over, given Ronin was distracted through most of it, but you should join next time.”

“I’d love to.” It was absurd, but tears pricked Naia’s eyes. She’d longed to be a part of something, and to be accepted by others. Now that it was happening, she could hardly believe it.

“Look what I found.” Violet said in a sing-song voice, stopping at the entrance of the room.

An indigo hue illuminated the sectional leather sofa along the walls. Two familiar individuals sat across from each other.

Ronin came to stand beside her, hands slipping in the pocket of his loose pants. “These are the leaders of the Blood Heretics. Noah, Vi, and Damian.” He gestured to each one with the flick of his chin.

Noah, the other waiter she met in the taproom, greeted her with a reserved dip of his head. His messy curls bounced with the motion. He brought his fingers to his eyebrow piercing and fidgeted with it, averting his gaze away from her.

Damian shifted on the cushion, sitting up as he scrutinized Naia. It made her stomach dip, not knowing what type of vile things would leave his mouth. Especially after their last encounter.

“Nice to officially meet you all,” Naia said politely.

“You as well.” Damian lounged back on the cushion. “Considering I have your portrait tattooed on me.”

Ronin’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes grew sharp. “I can remove the tattoo if you’d like.”

Damian cracked a wolfish smile, flashing his gaze to Ronin. “No need. She’s a pretty face.”

“Careful or Ronin might boil your blood right in your pretty little skull,” Violet hummed.

A rush of annoyance and rage tightened Naia’s muscles. Something in her begged to take his pompous ego down a notch.

“It makes sense now.” She cocked her head, appraising Damian. “Why you must go to Roseland Street to find a lover. You seem to believe you are the Land of Entity’s greatest creation when your personality is insufferable.”

Damian snapped his gaze back onto her, raising an eyebrow. Whether she impressed or stunned him, she could not tell.

Noah’s hand came up over his mouth to muffle his laugh.

“Oh wow, I love you so much, Naia!” Violet cackled, still linked arm in arm with her. “Don’t let him fool you. Damian might act like a tool, but he secretly can’t stand it when you don’t give him the time of day.”

“Kiss my ass, Vi.” Damian rolled his eyes, dismissing her.