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Keeping a lid on all the paranormal beings inhabiting Washington D.C. is a daunting job. Bruce, a six hundred year old demon and the Territory Overlord of the Western Hemisphere, keeps his finger on the pulse of DC’s power players through the activities at his highly successful Wycked Hair Salon. His movie star good looks and body builder physique keeps his dance card full and the rumor mills running. Within these walls, his anonymity is safe, mostly.
Bruce’s world spins out of control when Angelique, a pint size, gorgeous witch, with an attitude breezes through the doors of his salon. She is the younger sister of Tristian, Bruce’s long time trusted enforcer, whose professional skills are second to none. Tristian is furious at the relationship between Bruce and Angelique, a dangerous situation. The undeniable attraction between demon and witch promises to tear apart both their professional and personal worlds.
Keeping a lid on all the paranormal beings inhabiting Washington D.C. was a daunting job. However, Bruce a six hundred year-old demon, and Overlord of the Western Hemisphere was up to the task. The Wycked Hair Salon was his informational hub. It offered the finest hair stylists and nail techs in the area. Senators, Congressmen, their families, Secret Service, and even white house staff frequented his establishment. Usually, things ran smoothly at the multispecies salon, but occasionally…
Through these patrons, he kept abreast of the activities for all the movers and shakers on Capitol Hill, mortal or not. Even after all these years, it still mystified him that most mortals remained oblivious to the presence of magic and the creatures that wielded it. Within these walls, his anonymity was safe from mortals or magic beings alike.
Suddenly, he felt the magic aura shift and switched his attention to the front door. She breezed in, hair like spun gold flowing to her waist, with a seductive yet regal body and a sway to her hips that should be illegal even in DC. She wore a snug rose and cream colored sweater, cut low enough he could see the swells of her rounded breasts, tailored black slacks that fit her cute ass like a glove and four-inch spike heels. She paused in the center of the salon, wet from the sudden spring storm, and lowered the briefcase she’d used as an umbrella. Her sparkling violet eyes glanced up to the mezzanine where Bruce stood watching. Blatantly her gaze wandered over his well-muscled body, undressing him piece by piece, until he felt naked. He shook his head slightly and smoothed his shirt and slacks with his hand, just to make sure he was still wearing them.
On the first floor, Owen, a stocky well-muscled man of slightly over six foot, with thick silver hair that fell to his shoulders, smiled and stepped toward her holding out a large towel. “Mother Nature frown on you?” His dark amber eyes twinkled as he watched water pool at her feet.
“It would seem so.” She grinned and took the towel, dried off then knelt down to wipe up the puddle.
“Don’t worry about it.” Owen snapped his fingers. Mia came from the back room with a wheeled bucket and a mop. “It’s been one of those mornings.” He reached out, took the towel from her, and handed it to Mia. “Now, what can I do for you?”