The Velvet Den

Chapter 7

The morning light filtered softly through my curtains, casting long shadows across the room. I stretched lazily, only to realize that the space beside me was empty. Bryn must have left sometime during the night, his departure as quiet and unassuming as his presence had been the night before. A pang of sadness rippled through me, unexpected and unwelcome. I sat up, hugging my knees for a moment before shaking off the feeling. Tonight was the Blood Moon—a special event at the Velvet Den—and I had work to prepare for.

Sliding out of bed, I padded over to my closet. It was an explosion of colors and textures, a chaotic but organized collection of silks, leathers, lace, and fishnets. My fingers danced over the racks, sifting through mini skirts, corsets, thigh-high boots, and stockings of every pattern and material. Tonight’s outfit had to be perfect. The Blood Moon wasn’t just any night; it was when the most elusive and enigmatic creatures came out to play. Witches, succubi, ghosts, and reclusive beasts would flood the Den for one night of revelry, mystery, and indulgence.

I paused, holding up a crimson leather corset and matching mini skirt. The corset was structured and tight, designed to accentuate every curve, while the skirt was daringly short, with a slit that promised mischief. I paired it with fishnet stockings and tall, black stiletto boots. For a finishing touch, I added a black choker with a small silver crescent moon dangling at its center. Checking the mirror, I smiled. Perfect.

The trail to the Velvet Den was alive with the sounds of the forest—the crunch of leaves beneath my boots, the rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush, and the occasional hoot of an owl. The Den loomed ahead, its gothic architecture glowing faintly under the red-tinged moonlight. I stepped inside to find Leila bounding toward me, her dark curls bouncing wildly as she launched herself into my arms.

“Hey, baby!” she squealed, wrapping her legs around me. I laughed, spinning her around before setting her down. She stepped back, hands on her hips, and gave me a once-over. “Damn, you look amazing!” she said, her voice dripping with admiration.

“So do you,” I replied, taking in her outfit—a deep purple corset paired with a flowing black skirt that shimmered like liquid ink. “Ready for tonight?”

“Always,” she said with a wink, grabbing my hand as we headed to the bar.

The Velvet Den quickly came alive, the usual crowd of fae and shifters mingling with rarer visitors. A ghostly woman in a flowing gown glided past, her translucent form flickering like candlelight. A pair of witches cackled over their drinks, their fingers trailing sparks of magic as they whispered incantations. Leila leaned close, her breath warm against my ear. “Ever fucked a ghost?” she asked, her tone teasing.

I shook my head, laughing softly. “No, can’t say that I have.”

She grinned, her teeth gleaming. “Highly recommend it.”

I laughed again but found my gaze drifting, scanning the room. “Who are you looking for?” Leila asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.

“Bryn,” I admitted, my cheeks warming. “He carried me home last night.”

Her eyes widened. “Ooooh, really?” she said, dragging out the word. I laughed, shaking my head.

“We didn’t do anything,” I clarified, and she pouted dramatically. “Boo, why not?”

“He wants something more,” I said with a shrug.

Her expression softened into something almost wistful. “Well, let me know if you ever go all the way. Never fucked a troll. Bet it’s… big,” she said with a wink, making me choke on a laugh.

The night wore on as we worked. Orders came in rapid succession—cider, mead, ale, and more. I stayed behind the bar while Leila flitted through the crowd, her laugh ringing out like music. I was reaching for clean glasses beneath the counter when I felt it—a firm, deliberate touch on my ass. I froze, spinning around, but saw nothing. “What the hell?” I muttered.