Moira Rogers


Last Call, Story Five
Series Info:


April, 2012

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Kelsey Almeida has lived every one of her lifetimes in relative silence. Her voice is a lure, one that can overcome the strongest of wills. Magic has enabled the Siren to live a normal life…except when it comes to sex. When she’s aroused, no charm can obscure the call of her voice.

Frostbite: Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.

Nothing pierces the icy cool of Cain’s armor. A reaper can’t afford to be swayed by human emotions, even if he still has human needs. Kelsey’s voice heats his blood, but it’s the pleasure of unraveling her secrets that threatens to melt his self-control–and his heart.


Read an Excerpt

Last Call wasn’t her usual scene.

Kelsey snagged a menu from the end of the bar and thumbed the edge as she scanned the offerings. She was used to clubs, all right–the carefully orchestrated dance of the horny, the line between need and desperation growing thinner with each passing drink. But she wasn’t used to places humans couldn’t even enter, places where five grand got you a drink and a room key.

Both very, very special.

She trailed one manicured nail past the initial categories–werewolves, vampires, fae. The usual, she imagined, for a place like Last Call. On the back, at the bottom of the page, printed in smaller letters than the rest, was one last heading.


She smiled and drained her whiskey. Amusing, if not flattering, that she was an anomaly so rare there wasn’t even a category to include her, just a catchall section at the bottom of a menu, right beside the acknowledgment that parties of six or more would be assessed an automatic gratuity of eighteen percent.

Frostbite: Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.

Kelsey lingered over the words, licking her lips. It shouldn’t be so damn hard to get laid without having to talk, but even an anonymous bar hookup required a modicum of conversation. If she spoke at all, her potential partner was equally likely to follow her home, humping her leg like a dog, or throw himself from a building to get her attention.

Both had happened before.

She leaned forward before she could stop herself, sliding the menu toward the bartender with one upraised eyebrow.

He followed her finger toward the line she’d pointed to, then glanced up at her, assessment in his dark eyes. “Siren?”

Kelsey tapped her temple and winked.

He smiled widely. “You know how it works?”

She handed him her credit card and held her breath as she glanced around the club. Half the patrons were staring at the bartender–at her–and she suspected that even if no one was looking for sex, curiosity demanded they watch what happened next.

The bartender tucked her credit card under the counter and handed her a slim key card before reaching up to tap the side of his earpiece. “Last Call for the lady. Frostbite.”

The music resumed with a thumping beat, and Kelsey turned to watch the crowd as the bartender prepared her drink. Some were checking menus, undoubtedly unfamiliar with the drink’s coded meaning, but several men had already drawn free of the crowd, perhaps wondering exactly what her brand of seductive magic was.

And whether they could handle it.

The bartender set down her drink with a murmur of encouragement. She picked it up only long enough to take a sip–she hated cream mixed with her liquor on the best of days, but she had to signal to the gathered revelers that she was ready to go.

In every way.

A suited figure appeared at the bottom of the steps, a stern, unsmiling man who watched her without expression. He stood there, tall and severe, looking for all the world like a stockbroker who’d accidentally wandered into the bar on his way home from a meeting.

Kelsey wondered what he really was, under the twill and the frown.

Only one way to find out. She slid off her stool and walked slowly down the steps before stopping on the last one to study him. They were nearly eye-to-eye because of the height difference and her heels, and this close, he looked even harsher–


She drew in a breath. It could work, at least for a while…if she could get him upstairs. So she leaned in, licked the corner of his mouth, and shifted her mouth to his ear to administer her final test. A mere whisper. “Take me here.”

“No.” The man pulled back and studied her in inscrutable silence as the crowd behind him watched avidly. Then he held up a hand. “Proof enough?”

The denial alone weakened her knees, and her cheeks heated as she offered him the card key for the room. “Yes.”

He accepted the key and her blush with the same calm acceptance, as if neither her capitulation nor her arousal particularly surprised him. After pocketing the key, he dropped a hand to the small of her back and coaxed her from the steps. “Let’s go upstairs.”

She let him guide her toward the elevator, and he’d already slid the card to call it by the time she found her voice–and remembered she could use it. “I’m Kelsey.”

“Kelsey.” He had a low, smooth voice with the promise of rough edges. It matched the neatly pressed suit wrapped around his hard body. “I’m Cain.”

Of course he was. A name as hard as the man himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Cain.”

The elevator door slid open, revealing their reflection in the polished back wall of the car. He stepped forward, urging her along with that uncompromising hand at the small of her back. “Do you come to Last Call often?”

“Occasionally. My first time upstairs, though.” The elevator doors whispered shut behind them. “You?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and it was the most detached smile she’d ever seen. “I’ve been upstairs before.”

“Mmm.” Damn, but she was bad at small talk, probably because she never got the chance.

She leaned against the mirrored wall as the car began its ascent. Cain certainly seemed like the answer, a man unmoved by anything, much less her voice. And even though that was the point, it made her perversely determined to rattle him before the night ended, to get under his skin in a way that didn’t include magic.

He was hot. She was aching.

Five grand–and worth every penny.

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