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feelings of the many women he bedded, but that had been a very long time ago. They were all faceless now, little bleeps of pleasure that clouded his radar.
    It didn’t take him long to pull into Lucky Zipper, a nightclub owned by a local Elf. Though it wasn’t just Elves and Weres inside. Vamps, Laochs, and Pixies could all be found within its walls. Even Gnomes made the occasional appearance —crusty little fuckers —along with other creatures of the Immortal Realm. The club and its property sat on neutral ground. It was one of the few places where every being in the Realm could enjoy themselves in peace. Even humans were welcome, though only the very determined or really dumb ones attempted.
    The outside was friendly enough, with its large green neon sign depicting an unzipped fly. There was an air about the place, Cain could feel it the moment he entered the parking lot. Some kind of magic surrounded it—whether it was from a Witch or Gypsy, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t dabble or pay attention to minute things like that, but it was something the typical human would cower from. He could feel the magic prickling along his skin like a warm caress, beckoning him inside.
    Cain walked in and was greeted by the smell of stale cigarettes and sweat, along with the myriad of scents that accompanied the many species inside. If he’d been a young Were or even one of the Bitten, he probably would have gone nuts from the sensory overload of the place. As it was, he smiled at how glad he was to be back. Cain nodded at the overweight Elven bouncer, McCrae, guarding the door. The Elves were the most peaceful species in the Realm, which explained why they were the ones who always ran places of neutral ground. Most of them were human-like, save for their pointed ears and immortal lifespan. They rarely had any special powers.
    McCrae didn’t ask for his ID and Cain didn’t offer it. To say he was a regular was a damned understatement.
    Cain spotted Blaise through the throng of writhing bodies on the dance floor. He was sitting at their usual table. Blaise’s gray gaze fixed on him the moment he entered the bar. Dude was like a fucking bandicoot or something. He had crazy intense senses. More intense than Cain’s, which was an anomaly, considering Cain was centuries older, even though he looked to be the youngest. His body had stopped aging at the ripe age of twenty-one and immortality had set in. In the Immortal Realm, true age always meant power. The older, the stronger. Cain aged like wine. Simple as that.
    Cain met the man’s stare, never failing to notice the way one gray ocular followed him and the other didn’t. Perhaps it was having a prosthetic eye that made Blaise’s other senses blaze to the fore. Pun intended.
    Cain passed a chattering group of Pixies, whose wings glittered in the florescent lighting, on the way to the table. The tiny women were huddled together watching a young Elven bartender juggle bottles of expensive liquor as he made their drinks. Cain didn’t miss the way their eyes locked on him as he passed, could feel them like a stroke against his skin. Women always responded to him like that. He knew what would happen if he stopped and talked to them. They would fall on top of one another to get his attention. In the end it would cause a fight, something unheard of between Pixie sisters. Yet he had caused a rift amongst sisters like them many a time. There was plenty of him to go around, though, and usually they all ended up getting a turn.
    “Back so soon?” Blaise said with a smug look as he interlaced his fingers behind spiky black hair.
    “You know how it goes.” Cain slid into a seat across from his friend.
    “Fuck, man! That chick you left with was fucking hot. Where is she?” Sparrc slung himself into the chair next to Cain. Blaise and Sparrc were twins, though blood was where the likeness ended. Sparrc’s strange light blue gaze darted around the club for said chick. Of course, his eyes