Excerpt: Angeline

The whole bar was dimly lit, but this alcove was right under one of the flickering screens, washing the table with a faintly brighter orange light. A man sat alone at the table, leaning back with a casualness that must have taken years to master. His pose was, Ethan had to admit, masterful--the light hit him just right, and only someone who had done it themselves would realize he was putting himself on display.

But realizing he was in the presence of a master didn't mean Ethan liked the man any more than he had a second ago.

"Whoring yourself out, Hargreaves?" Rebecca asked in the utmost of casual tones as they approached, as though she and the dark-haired man at the table had been speaking together only minutes ago.

He glanced up at her, his sharp, aristocratic features shifting from the picture of inviting indifference to sardonic amusement. "Gives me something to do," he said airily, reaching for the tall glass of pale amber liquid beside him and taking a drink. "Interested?"

"Not in buying."

His eyes flicked over Ethan's pale hair and dark eyes, and the corner of his mouth tugged up. "Selling, then?"

"Touch me and I'll break your wrist," Ethan snapped before Rebecca could answer back.

The man at the table grinned broadly, reaching for his drink again. "Well, if you aren't buying and you aren't selling, I'd appreciate your leaving."

Rebecca ignored him and sat down in the chair opposite him, motioning for Ethan to pull one up. "I'm afraid we'll be interrupting your drinking and whoring for a little while longer. There's something I'd like to talk to you about, Cygnus."