There was no key. Instead, she wrote down my name, assigned me a locker number, and would unlock it when I returned. Apparently, there was no place to put a key. Figured.

On my way out, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and nearly tripped. I backed up to get a better look. Hank had been right. I sure as hell fit in now. The only difference between me and the attendants was the quality of the gown and my hair, which hung long and loose down my back.

Who knew I could pull off Greek goddess so well?

Hank waited outside the locker room in an above-the-knee white sarong, his arms folded across his bare chest and his toe tapping on the mosaic tile.

Holy Mary, Mother of God. An appreciative breath whistled through my lips.

All two hundred pounds of him glowed with tanned skin pulled taut over fantastic shoulders, cut abs, and gorgeous legs and feet. Yeah, I’d been right for once. Seeing Hank half-naked had been worth the trip.

I was grinning like an idiot and couldn’t hide it. One of Hank’s perfectly arched eyebrows lifted slowly and knowingly at my blatant perusal. Then his lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled as he flipped the tables and ogled my outfit. That made me find my voice. “Is that a loincloth?”

The burgeoning grin on his lips froze. “It’s not a loincloth.”

“It looks exactly like a loincloth.”

His expression turned sour as I cocked my head and gave him a smart look. Satisfied I’d gotten the last word, I strode off toward the main bath.

“You left your underwear on?” His exasperated voice came from behind me.

I stopped, stuck my hip out, and looked over my shoulder, trying to see my rear. “What? You can see them?”

“God, get me through this,” he muttered on a long exhale, grabbing my arm and steering me forward. I was pretty good at leaving him speechless. He didn’t say another word about my undies.

The wide corridor opened into the enormous main bath. Swimming pool, really. Columns held up a mural ceiling and ringed the rectangular room. In places, steam trickled like smoke from the surface of the pool. Beautiful beings swam in the water, lounged on the bath steps, or gathered around low tables, lying on their sides atop pillows and eating finger foods.

“So this is how you guys do it in Elysia.”

Hank shrugged. “For the most part. C’mon, let’s mingle.”

“And get close to Veritas.”

A tall nude male, a very fine tall nude male with an exquisite form and dark skin so wet and gleaming it looked almost black in the soft candlelight, padded by and gave me a quick once-over and then a smile. A light, fluttery sensation bloomed in my belly. I returned his greeting halfheartedly, waiting until he passed to let out a whoosh of air. Dear God. Everything inside of me screamed to turn around and go home. This could not end well.

Suddenly, I noticed every bit of seduction in the room. The nymphs giving massages. The couple in the pool running their hands all over each other’s wet bodies. The blatant nakedness. The open stares of admiration and interest. How could this not turn into one gigantic orgy?

It was too hot in the baths. Too damn hot to even catch my breath and slow my heart rate. A low laugh issued beside me. “Shut up, Hank.”

“Only humans seem to equate nakedness with sex. Like there can be no other outcome,” Hank said. Was I that transparent? “Or is it that you’re such a prude that all this skin is what has you red-faced and panting?” He jumped away before I could swat him.

Maybe I had become a prude. Lack of sex could do that to a girl. Which didn’t explain how one minute, I’m sucking face and begging for it with my ex-husband, and the next I’m so damned flustered and embarrassed at seeing naked bodies at The Bath House. Perhaps I was teetering between eternal prude-dom and desperate sex seeker.

Yeah, and you’re the Queen of Denial, Charlie. There was no doubt in my mind if I wanted to find a partner tonight, I could. But I wouldn’t. Despite its reputation of being addictive, the idea of sex with an off-worlder freaked me out a little. Okay, a lot. And this place was full of them. I was probably the only human here.

Like all Elysians of status, Hank strolled toward the pool as though he owned it while I stood in perfect idiot stance watching him. Splitting up was the best and fastest way to find information, but part of me wished he’d stuck to my side like glue.

Chin up, I encouraged myself, taking a deep breath and stepping into a room designed to be an overdose for the senses.

Deep red brocade curtains hung between columns and were held back with gold rope ties. They framed the massive space and separated the lounging areas from the main pool along with the help of strategically placed ferns. Tall urn-style fountains at each corner sent cascades of water into the pool. The rhythmic cadence mixed beautifully with piped-in music, which sounded suspiciously like Enya. Trays of candles and herbs floated on the surface of the water. I couldn’t detect the scent of chlorine at all.

The heavy air made my skin dewy and my movements slow. Hank was already waist deep in the water talking to a group of males, so I headed to a long marble table and sat diagonally from two females and a male. A server immediately brought me wine, water, and a tray of fruits. Grateful, I downed half the water, welcoming the cool relief.

The females were divinities, commonly referred to as Adonai. They liked to think of themselves as gods or, at the very least, angels, but they were simply the ruling elite of Elysia who just happened to have bodies like six-foot-tall Norwegian supermodels, and egos the size of Mount Everest. And these two were no different.

“When did they start allowing humans in here?” one of the females asked the other, but loud enough for me to hear, which was her intent.

I gave her a syrupy smile, when what I really wanted to do was reach over the table and smack the living crap out of her. “Oh, I don’t know,” I answered, letting my aggravation show, “maybe since we live here and this is our planet.” I feigned a lightbulb moment. “Hey, I have an idea. If you don’t like humans, go the hell back home.”

I hated when the high ranks made the choice to move here and then did nothing but complain about Atlanta and humans.

The Adonai sniffed and left the table. Bitches.

“You’re human,” the male said, shifting to face me, one elbow propped on the table.

I turned my attention to him. “You’re a warlock.” Well, nymph by race, but warlock by trade.

Warlocks, the warrior sect of mages, were tougher, harder, and stricter than any other Elysian class. And when they weren’t wearing any clothes, like this one, identifying them was a no-brainer. He had the physique of a fighter and bore the mark of the warlock tattooed around his wrist—a black dragon swallowing its tail.

He lifted his water glass to give me a mock toast, emerald green eyes flashing beneath slashes of black eyebrows. The guy was dangerous looking, with thick bone structure and ebony hair that fell just below his jaw, making me think of green meadows and Celtic barbarians. For a moment, I thought I saw a green light illuminated around him, but that could’ve been the heat getting to me.

The warlock, grinning now, moved around the table and sat down next to me.

I held my breath. Don’t look down, Madigan. Don’t. Look. Down.

When a hot naked male sits next to you, the law of the universe dictates one’s eyes must turn south. It’s the nature of things. But I held out, easing my death grip from the water glass and focusing solely on his face. He had a very calm, knowing look about him, and his dark hair and the tattoos on his arms made him appear capable of handling any situation. It made me wonder what guise he took when not in his natural nymph form. Something sleek, dark, and predatory, no doubt.