by LJ Swallow
As typical guys, we've not had a conversation over how Vee affects us. I don't think we need to. What she does is clear—she amplifies everything and not just our powers. She's the Fifth and at the centre.
What would happen if we united?
I run my tongue along my lip as she climbs out the car, unable to draw my eyes away from her shapely backside. Uniting with Vee? I might be able to resist the effect she has on me, but only if I concentrate really bloody hard.
Although, concentrating on her backside and allowing naked Vee images into my mind isn’t helpful.
I step out of the car and shrug on my jacket. Her eyes meet mine, uncertainty in them. Both our barriers are softened from being in the small space with her, and I’m unsure that’s a good thing.
The other guys might want to chase around after her. Me? I’ll wait for Vee to come to me.
5
VEE
I stand by the Aston Martin, which Xander parked in the shadows, hidden between two shipping containers in the corner of the lot and away from the nearby warehouses.
"Don't you think your car's a bit conspicuous?" I ask him as he looks at me over the roof of the car.
"And? Why does that matter?"
"People—demons—will know you're around if they see your car. Aston Martins are expensive and unusual."
"And cool as fuck, right? Maybe I want demons to know I'm around. Besides, once I'm this close, anybody I’m pursuing won't have a chance to run far, especially with more than one of us around."
"But, still..."
Xander slams the door closed. "You ask questions about the weirdest things. This car looks awesome and moves fast. End of."
"Wow, okay, Mr. Attitude." I turn away from him. What have I done to him that causes him to be this rude? I dismiss taking his attitude personally. From what I’ve witnessed, this behaviour isn’t only directed at me.
"Am I dressed okay?" I ask, sudden self-awareness hitting to match the cold slapping my legs.
Xander's slow appraisal sets the familiar tingle along my spine as his green eyes meet mine. "I don't think you'll stand out too much with what you're wearing. Have you much experience in dealing with overfriendly guys, though? This is a club. Political correctness won’t apply and hands might wander."
"I can look after myself," I say, and he nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.
We cross the uneven ground between the darkened parking area and approach the warehouse building housing the club. Music thuds from inside and through a doorway, the door painted black and squeezed between two other buildings. A painted sign above reads, imaginatively, "The Warehouse." People hang around outside, talking in groups or bunched together as they pass into the venue. Relief wipes away some apprehension as some girls' dress resembles mine: dark clothes, short and tight. Others wear skintight jeans, many with interesting hair colour choices.
Even better, nobody pays any attention to us.
A man rests against the wall outside, smoking, as he stares at his feet. I tense and halt, as he shifts and the dim light above the door catches his blue hair.
Xander looks down at me. "Yes, he's fae and from Portia's locality. Same as your attacker the other night, but don't stress, I know him."
Uh huh. Right. No stress here.
Xander approaches the guy, and I hang back as they hold a low conversation. Wrapping my arms around myself, I watch two girls in short skirts and high boots enter the building.
I look back in the car park's direction. Where's Ewan? I didn't notice him behind us when we drove here, but surely he can't be far behind?
Xander beckons me over and gestures. "Verity, this is Ronan."
Ronan mirrors Xander's earlier slow appraisal of me and runs his fingers along his bottom lip. Obviously he isn't the same person as my attacker, but his tall, wiry frame and violet eyes trigger an anxious memory.
"Hey, Verity. Great to finally meet you. I heard a lot about you."
"Who from?" I ask hastily.
"Portia. She mentioned the Fifth was with the Horsemen the day she was attacked, and helped save the day, so now we're extra curious about you."
I stare back, unsure how to respond.
"You're freaked out by how I look, aren't you? I've nothing to do with the guy your friend Heath killed. We haven't figured out who that was yet."
"Surely the local fae noticed someone's missing?" asks Xander.
Ronan rests against the wall and pushes his feet forward. "A few of our guys are missing—he could be one of half a dozen. Our council told everybody the missing people were abducted because fae would never side with demons. The dead guy’s actions contradict that."
"Why did they want to... take me or whatever?" I ask.
"Same reason these behind the plot attacked Portia," replies Ronan. "They want to interfere with the Horsemen's control over the portals and therefore the world. You're key to their fight. Nobody knows for sure how or why yet, but you're pretty damn important. That's why they've tried to get hold of you before the Horsemen found you."
I shiver at the implication behind "get hold of," and Xander's silence worries me. Ronan pulls himself from the wall and claps Xander on the back. "But, we have other things on our mind tonight, right, Xan?"
Xander shrugs his arm away. "I'm here in a professional capacity."
Ronan tips his head. "There's a smoking-hot new barmaid."
"There's a smoking-hot new barmaid every time I visit," replies Xander with a sly grin.
"All looking for a piece of Xander." Ronan slings an arm around Xander’s shoulders. "Man, I had my eye on this one for a couple of weeks and here you are, ready to cockblock me."
Xander chuckles. "Not my intention, man. But what can I say? I’m irresistible."
Seriously? I shuffle from foot to foot uncomfortable by their conversation. Perhaps Joss is right and Xander's motives tonight are only half professional.
"Go on in." Ronan gestures to the door.
"What about Ewan?" I ask.
I've listened for his bike's arrival the whole time I waited, but no other vehicle has appeared in the darkened car park. Ewan left before us; surely he should be here?
"Knowing Ewan, he probably took the scenic route," says Xander. "Let's go. He’ll find us."
Xander slides an arm around my waist, and I look up at him in surprise. He hasn't touched me since the afternoon at Portia's house. A surprise intensity burns in his eyes as his touch spreads warmth into me. He clearly responds the same way to me as I do to him, despite our mutual ambivalence.
"I think it's better people think we're together," he explains. "If that's okay with you."
I’m hyperaware of where his hip rest against mine, and the arousal growing due to his long fingers against my waist. This is ridiculous. I hardly like the man.
Xander leans in to whisper, "I promise not to grope your arse.”
"You'll regret it if you do," I hiss and remove his arm from my waist.
Xander sighs. "Hold my hand instead then."
I hesitate before I place mine in his, hoping I don’t experience the blinding, shattering reaction from last time. Nothing. But Xander’s tight grip is accompanied by a desire to keep my hand in his, despite several seconds ago not wanting him anywhere near me. This is bloody weird, again.
A huge venue filled with smoke and disorientating strobe lights greets us as we walk through the doorway. There're two floors, and the entrance is at the top. Below, a large bar runs the length of the right-hand wall, surrounded by stools and people. A throng below writhe together to the heavy industrial music; bodies packed tightly.
"We need to go that way," calls Xander in my ear, indicating left. "A guy called Declan manages the place. Arlo likes to keep a distance between his ownership and involvement in the day to day. Declan’s my first point of contact, and he should be in his office."
"Okay," I shout back.
"Unless you want a drink first?" He gestures downstairs as I struggle to hear his words.
>
I shake my head and call, "Let's get this over with."
Xander leads me, hand still in mine, around a corner towards the small room, which overlooks the lower floor. The music fades a little as the hallway narrows to a small space between Declan’s office and the wall. Xander doesn't knock, but yanks down the door handle and marches straight in.
In the small room, a man sits behind a mahogany desk, a tumbler glass containing brown liquid beside him as he sorts through papers. A window looks down onto the club below, and the space in the room is taken up by boxes stacked around. Declan’s older than us, dressed in a cheap suit. Is he fae too? His impassive face doesn’t match the perfect fae features, and although his short hair's white, there’s no violet tinge to his eyes. Human.
"I thought you might turn up tonight after what happened to the fae," he sighs. "What do you want?"
"We’re looking for some people and need to know if you’ve seen anyone different around."
Declan picks up his glass and swirls the contents. "Not a social visit then?" He cranes his head to look at me. "Are you dating?" The mocking edge to his voice riles me, and Xander drops my hand as if he's a little boy caught holding a girl's hand. “Why bring the chick in here? Who is she?"
"She’s helping me out."
A short laugh erupts from Declan. "Sure, Xander. I bet she’s very helpful."
"Yeah. She's more fun to hang out with than the guys, if you know what I mean."
Excuse me? I open my mouth to tell them I have a bloody name and I’m not his piece of ass, but Xander shoots me a look.
"Yeah, I bet she is," says the guy and stares at my breasts. I glare. "The Horsemen asking for human help? Things are slipping."
Xander ignores him and walks to the edge of the room, where glasses and a bottle of clear liquid rest on a small round table. "I'll fix us a drink, since you're not offering."
He hands me a glass. I shake my head, but Xander pushes it closer.
I'd intended to avoid alcohol, but here I am with peer pressure from a Horseman? Ha ha.
The liquid burns my throat as I drink, and I fight coughing. The man gestures for me to sit in an upholstered chair nearby, but I remain close to the door. Xander sits opposite him.
"Have you seen any demons around here recently?"
"Nope. We had a couple of vamps the other week, but they were with their donors so they didn't cause any trouble. They're allowed, right? Good paying customers."
Xander spins his glass on the desk. "You know the answer to that question, but I'll ignore what you told me as long as there're none here tonight. Anyone else suspicious?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
Xander’s line of questioning continues. "Do you know anything at all about who's behind the attack on the fae queen?"
He scowls. "Hey, I'm just a guy making a living here. I don't get involved in fae business, and you guys kick my arse if a demon even sniffs in this direction."
Xander pulls his phone from a pocket and clicks, before turning the screen to Declan. "Have you seen this guy around?"
Declan takes the phone and peers at Hunter’s picture. "Dunno. He’s not exactly unusual looking."
Xander flicks a finger across the screen. "Might’ve been with this girl."
Again, Declan studies. "Oh, yeah, seen her around with friends. She’s old enough, okay? We checked her ID. Friendly girl."
"This is Elyssia. Did you know she’s the fae queen’s daughter?"
"What the fuck? Does Arlo know?"
"Good question," says Xander. "But this is where Elyssia met the guy I showed you, the one who tried to kill her mother."
Declan holds his hands up, palms outwards. "Seriously, man, I had no clue."
"You didn’t see the two together? Or with others?"
"You know I spend most evenings up here. Arlo’s the one to ask."
"Where is he?"
He jerks a thumb in the window's direction. "Down there. He's checking out the clientele, as usual."
"For demons?" asks Xander.
Declan snorts. "For ass.”
Xander stands. "And demons I hope."
"Seriously, man, I haven't seen any for weeks."
"Not ones you'd recognise. You know a few can glamour themselves."
Declan shuffles with papers on his desk and looks down. "Okay. Cards on the table. We’ve had a group of young succubi and incubi sneak in, but they fought the vamps, so we kicked them all out. The two groups can settle things between themselves. If they don't, victims never die on the premises so that's really not my problem." He nods at me. "Look, I don't know who your friend is, but I really don't like having this conversation with her around."
"And I don't like your attitude to human life," Xander growls.
"Tough. Do your job and don’t expect us to do it for you. Protecting people is your job. Are you losing your touch, Xander?"
Xander places both hands on the table and leans closer. "Do you want to see if I'm losing my touch?" he says in a tone that lifts hairs on my neck. "Maybe I can bring my brother in here and see if we've lost our touch?"
Declan shrinks away. "Calm down. Jesus man, stressed much?"
"Why aren't you stressed?" sneers Xander. "Do you think if the demons are attacking fae that you're safe? That your job and life are free from their interference?" The man blinks. "If someone’s trying to recruit fae, I doubt the demons will be kind to those who don't cooperate."
Declan stands and jabs a finger at Xander. "Look, we put up with you and your mates' superior attitudes, at you coming in here and inspecting us like you're some kind of mafia, but don’t threaten me."
"Wake up. You're completely blinkered if you think growing demon numbers won't affect you."
"You want me to call Arlo up here and have him listen to your threats?"
"Go ahead, saves me looking for him," snarls Xander. "Someone is hiding secrets, and I won’t stand for that shit!"
As the tension grows in the room, I sip the strong liquid. War at his finest shifting from diplomacy to aggression in a blink of an eye. This isn't smart.
"Xander," I step forward and touch his arm. "Let's go. He doesn’t have any information to help."
Xander turns his head, with a confused expression, palms still on the table. "I'm dealing with this."
"You promised if I came with you, we'd have some fun."
"I said I'm busy."
"Then I'll need to find somebody else to spend my evening with."
Despite the fact I want to glare, I practice a coy smile, one that Declan can see me giving the guy he presumes is my hook up. If only Declan could see the dark look on Xander's.
The standoff continues and Declan looks on in amusement. "Nobody makes demands of Xander, honey. You won't last the evening."
"I know Xander would do whatever I asked," I say, turning up the coy.
I gleefully take on the role, especially as Xander’s discomfort grows at my behaviour. I sidle over and slap down my temptation to slide a hand across his backside. Well, he introduced me as a hook-up. Instead, I tug one of his hands from the desk.
"Come on, I want some Xander time."
Both men stare at me, Declan in amusement and Xander in quiet shock, but the atmosphere in the room calms.
"Fine, I'll find Arlo and get answers from him," mutters Xander. He moves back from the desk and pulls his hand from mine. "And Declan is right. Nobody ever tells me what to do, sweetheart."
With a tiny smile Xander can't see, I step out of the door in front of him.
I think he'll find I just did.
The moment the door closes, Xander grabs my arm and pulls me to one side. The space between the office and the wall is narrow, the hallway hidden and dark, away from the loud music. "What the fuck was that performance?"
"You were getting aggressive. I was trying to diffuse the situation. Worked, didn’t it?"
"I have a fucking job to do. I gave him a chance to cooperate."
I place my hand on Xander
's shoulder. "A chance? Is that what you call that? Why are you like this all the time?"
He gestures at himself. "War?"
"But behaving like this isn’t helpful, surely? You should relax more."
He lowers his voice. "Based on your behaviour in there, I'd say you were the one who wanted to help me relax."
"You were the one implying I'm your hook up for the night. I just played along to solve a problem."
Xander places both hands above me on the wall, blocking my view with his large frame. He's close, not touching, but my body jumps to alert at his proximity and his switch from aggression.
"I know the effect I have on you, Vee," he whispers. "I thought that performance might be because you want to indulge your delusion. The one where you think I want you as much as the other three do."
"And I know right now you want to show me the effect I have on you," I whisper back.
He shifts closer and trails a finger along my cheek. "They're following you around like puppy dogs, waiting for you to click your fingers. Not me."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I wonder who you'll choose."
I laugh in his face. "Who says I'm going to choose one of you? I could take you all."
I don't know where the words come from, or if I could ever act on them, but a girl could get used to the idea four men all worship her. Yes, four, because this one's lying to my face.
"And maybe once you've had a taste of each of us, you'll choose the one who makes you scream the loudest."
Xander closes the gap between us, the intensity growing where our bodies touch. He runs his fingers along my leg before resting his hand against my hip. "Who've you had a taste of already? My brother, yes. Joss? Surely not Ewan." Xander shifts, lips close enough to mine that his breath strokes my mouth. "Do you want a taste of me next?"
My body screams yes. Taste Xander's lips, push my hands beneath his shirt, and dig fingers into his taut muscle. I have the power to bring this arrogant man to his knees, and the idea shivers desire through my body.