I looked back at Bodie. He was harder than Easton. More ruthless. He might be a kid, but he'd caused his share of death. Maybe even more than I had.
Bodie's green eyes stared back at me. He gave a solemn nod.
I swallowed my smile as I turned back to the file.
"Easton, you might wanna go get changed. You’re the bait."
"I really don’t think I’m the best choice," Easton started to argue.
I cut him off, holding up a hand. "You’re the perfect choice."
He sighed and grumbled, but went upstairs to get his appearance magicked.
"Why him and not me?" Bodie asked, pulling a knife from his belt and testing the edge on his fingertip.
"Because you do shit like that."
"He’s gonna fumble around, you know it," Bodie snapped.
"I do know it," I shot right back. "It will make him believable."
That was a lie. It would make Easton look suspicious. Which would trigger the little fly’s investigative tendencies. Which was exactly what we wanted.
Bodie rolled his eyes and shoved his knife back into its sheath. Then he pulled the file toward himself. "Fine. He’s the lure. Then what?"
I grinned, leaning back in my chair.
When Bodie and I had agreed on the next steps, we broke up the meeting and headed upstairs, to the surface streets of Skid Row. Tents lined the road like a sad, fallen rainbow. Homeless people and homeless shifters wandered and fought and mingled in this concrete jungle.
Bodie spotted a destitute shifter on the street, identifiable because of his gold eyes as he dug through a trash bag. My wolf friend shrugged off the suit jacket that made him look professional and handed it to the shifter. "Hundred bucks for you to take care of this. Better be in mint condition when I come back for it later tonight."
The skinny man nodded his head and clutched Bodie’s suit coat like it was precious.
Bodie mussed his hair again and grabbed some leather strips out of his pockets. He wrapped them around his wrists. He yanked on his shirt and untucked it. Then he slouched, transforming himself into a pouty teen instead of the shifter world’s best assassin.
He gave me a nod before making his way down the street. No one, not even the gang members down here, touched Bodie.
My mouth quirked up in a small grin as I turned and walked in the opposite direction.
It was time to set up our honeytrap and catch ourselves a fly.
4
Aubry
I slammed a fist into Triton’s side, his muscles flexing to try and soften the blow. My best friend’s sandy brown hair became disheveled. It was a good look for the pompous, always-perfect prick. I smiled.
Every time I made contact, a little bit of anger escaped me, cleansing me. My muscles burned. My bones ached. It was fucking revitalizing. Who needed juice cleanses when you could just bash the shit out of someone? That was the way to reset.
Luckily, Trite knew me well enough to know that this wasn’t personal, it was just what I needed. He grunted but grinned through the pain. "My ninety-year-old grandmother can hit harder than that. Stop being a bloody pussy."
Gross. He knew I hated when he used that curse combo. Oh, it's on, Mage-boy.
We circled each other on the mat, deep in the lower levels of the precinct.
As soon as the meeting with the council had concluded, I'd immediately come here. Nothing soothed an angered spirit quite like beating the shit out of something. Originally, I'd planned on decimating a punching bag, but when I’d passed Triton along the way, I’d dragged him downstairs to spar with me… and talk some sense into him.
The mat flexed gently beneath my bare feet as I circled my friend. Trite’s light blue gaze was steady, his knees bent, his arms at the ready. He looked calm, collected, and totally ready for any move I made. It kinda pissed me off.
"Your mentor, Citrine, was fucking with me," I growled, trying to throw him off with conversation.
Lunging, I jabbed at his ribs with one hand before striking out at his jaw with the other. He dodged both hits like he was Neo in The Matrix, practically blurring due to his speed. His feet remained planted on the mat, though, so I dropped down and swung my leg out, trying to knock him off balance. But the mage was ready for me—again. He latched onto my thigh and dragged me straight towards him, resting a foot on my chest just under my throat.
"Come on, Aubs. You're better than this. Don't let the council's words bring you down; let them take you higher. Citrine’s good at using anger to inspire others."
I growled in frustration, punching the side of his calf before rolling out from beneath him.
The council thinks I'm too impulsive? Damn it, I’ll show them impulsive.
I ran at Trite like a freaking linebacker, tackling him to the mat with enough force to knock the wind right out of him. That was a move I didn’t typically use.
Trite tucked his legs like springs and catapulted me over his head. I hit the mat hard, but I rolled quickly and jumped to my feet. He did the same, and once more, we were circling one another.
"Your head's not in the game, Aubs," he said, eyeing me carefully as we ringed around the mat. "You need to prove to the council—"
"I know!" I cried, launching into another attack. My fists hammered down like hundreds of bullets assaulting his arms as he tried to block.
But just like in the movie, he remained unaffected. As soon as my blows slowed and he found a tiny window of opportunity, he struck, jabbing my jaw hard enough to make me see stars. I blinked and shook out my head, ducking as another fist went sailing above me. My fist found his ribs with a crack, and he grunted as he stumbled back.
Take that, Neo!
"Better," Trite said, rubbing his side tenderly as he circled and assessed me. "But not nearly good enough. You usually kick my ass on the mats, Princess. Come on! Kick my ass!"
Princess? Oh, he was really fucking with the bull now. Prepare to meet the horns.
He didn’t wait for my attack—he launched one of his own, coming at me like a hurricane, hellbent on pure annihilation. I brought my arms up to guard my face as he rained down blows on my forearms. Those fuckers were going to be bruised for days.
I needed to channel some energy and rage of my own; needed to counterattack like a summer fae would. Like a freaking wildfire consuming everything in my path, leaving nothing but charcoaled ash in my wake.
While Trite jabbed at my arms, trying to reach my face beyond, I brought my leg up and kicked him hard in the gut. His abs were solid and tight, prepared to guard him from any such assault, but it was enough of a jolt to slow his blows and allow me an opportunity of my own.
"I’ve gotten more arrests," I said in the brief gap, "and executed more shifters in the past year than any of my predecessors. What the hell do they want from me?"
I jumped, roundhouse kicking him in the shoulder hard enough to drop his ass straight to the floor, but he barrel-rolled away before I could pin him, my knee missing his chest and sinking down into the foam of the mat instead.
"Compliance," he answered.
I lurched to my feet, about to attack again, when his foot hit the side of my face and dropped me. My head throbbed, my vision blurry and blackening around the edges. Trite's features suddenly swam into view, wavering before me as if one of us was underwater.
"Are you all right, Aubry?" he asked, reaching out to offer me a hand up.
His voice echoed, as if he were at the end of a long cavern, and I had to squint against the pain it caused as it ricocheted around my skull.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I said as casually as I could, taking his hand and allowing him to heft me up. "Let's go again."
I hadn't even come close to venting enough ire—especially since he kept beating me. My anger was only stacking higher and higher like a precarious tower of rocks. I needed to knock that shit down before it collapsed on its own and crushed me.
"I don't think that's—" Trite began to protest, but suddenly the door flung open and T
allulah fluttered in.
She had both hands resting on her narrow pixie hips, a magically shrunken tablet wedged in between her fist and hip on one side in a little hip holster. "I've been looking all over for you, Triton. Councilwoman Citrine would like to have a word."
Oh, I have a word for her, all right. The fucking cum-guzzling-thunder-cunt. Okay, so maybe that was four words all strung together, but whatever. That old mage could go suck a dick. Maybe the red one I still needed to draw on my mother's forehead.
"Please," I looked at Trite. I begged with my eyes. And I never begged. But his word could change everything.
His brow furrowed. "Aubry, you said your terms were taking down The Shadow. He’s too dangerous. The very essence of cold-hearted. I don’t think that it’s—"
"Please," I repeated. I needed this. I needed him to put a word in for me.
Trite sighed and looked me over, making sure I wasn't dizzy before letting go of my hand and arm. Then he turned to Tee. "Did she mention the specifics of the conversation?"
Tallulah shrugged. "Just normal business, I think. Intel thinks they found a lead on a meth-toting shark shifter a few miles down the coast. She probably just wants some of your tracking expertise."
Trite nodded and tugged off his sweaty shirt, wiping away the glistening beads on his perfect face. His black stone necklace, the one he never took off, the one that came from his parents, hung around his neck. "Go home and get some rest, Aubs. Maybe a solid night's sleep will do you some good."
I frowned. "You're not coming back to spar with me after you talk to the…"—arrogant, pig-headed douche-nozzle, nope don’t say it aloud—"… councilwoman?"
Trite grinned and rubbed his short beard, which somehow managed to showcase his physique. It seriously wasn’t fair that he was strictly friend-zoned. I knew he’d be happy to break our friendship for some action on the side, but Trite was about to be engaged for one—though it was going to be an arranged marriage, he was still finalizing negotiations—and a manwhore for two. It would also just be way too weird. I didn’t feel that zing with him.
There was a moment of silence as Trite decided what he was going to do.
Eventually, he sighed and gritted his teeth. "Everyone misses The Shadow. The council knows this. These goddamned shifters need to be wiped off the map like dogshit off a shoe. They're a menace. A fucking liability to supernaturals everywhere! How many times this week did you have to stop a shifter from revealing us to humans?"
Tee answered for me. "Thirteen arrests, twenty-two executions."
He snapped and pointed a finger. "Exactly!" He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, apparently trying to find his zen once more or some shit. Trite tended to get extra worked up over shifters. He ran both hands through his sandy blond hair. "Fuck. All right, listen. I'm going to go speak with them. I don't know what good it'll do, but I can try."
I scoffed. It was almost a damned laugh. "Are you kidding me? You don't know what good it'll do? You'll try?"
"Yes, Aubry, it's the best I can do."
"You sound just like my father," I accused, taking a healthy step back.
Trite’s features softened and he didn’t defend himself, which only frustrated me further. He was a minor councilor, yes. So was my dad. The only major councilors were mages who were centuries old. Trite and I used to jokingly call them the Cryptkeepers. But now that I was living out a horror story they’d created, for no good reason, I didn’t find that name as funny.
I stared hard at Trite, shoving down any tears and trying to keep my voice level. "Both you and my father have the power to speak on my behalf. You could convince them to reinstate my position immediately."
If they combined forces, the other council members would listen. My heart felt like it had been stung. From Dad I’d learned not to expect much. But from Trite…
Triton sighed. "I’m not a siren. It's not that simple, Princess."
"Don't Princess me," I snapped, crossing my arms.
Calm down, Aubry. It's not his fault. He really is just trying to help.
I forced my brows to unfurrow, my frown to loosen its hold on my lips. "I'm sorry. Thank you for offering to help."
Maybe there was still hope. Triton was the youngest council member. He had a lot of respect. I should trust that. Trust him. I took a deep breath and tried to release some of the frustration still clunking around in my chest.
My best friend smiled gently and backed away toward the door. "We'll get this figured out, okay? Just give me a few minutes to talk to them. Maybe we can grab a drink and shoot some darts after? I know how you love kicking my ass in front of god and country. Pretty certain you demanded a rematch after last time, anyway."
The cheeky bastard still remembered the close loss I'd suffered previously. I gave a reluctant grin. "You cheated. You don't tempt a woman by mentioning Pho, then allow her own hunger and excitement to throw her off her game. That's like, don't-be-a-dick 101."
Obviously, he missed that class back when we were in college together.
He chuckled and I continued. "I do still want a rematch, but I have to talk to someone first. I’ll text you and let you know for sure."
He nodded, not bothering to ask who or about what. Thank fuck. The last thing I wanted to do was get into the darker details of my sexual desires with my male best friend. No, not with Trite, not with anyone. That shit stayed on lockdown.
He disappeared and, suddenly, I was alone with a scrunch-nosed Tallulah. She stared after Trite like he’d left a bad smell behind, instead of just sweat and whatever cologne he was wearing.
I sighed. "What's on your mind, Tee? I know you're gonna tell me anyway."
"I don't like him," she said, crossing her arms as she fluttered before me. "He's a fucking snake, Aubs. Cunning and manipulative and venomous."
I rolled my eyes. Tee and I had been over this a thousand times. Yes, Triton could be a royal dick at times, but he was my oldest friend; the only one who'd made it all the way from Mag-Sorgin University to the precinct, and that meant something to me. Six years of friendship was no joke in my book. Most people couldn't last six months.
I knew my workaholic tendencies were at the root of the problem—the root of all my fucking problems, really—but I couldn't change that. It was who I was. I was driven, and no one and nothing was going to stand in my way. Not friends, not lovers, nothing.
Never again, anyway…
Trite was the same. In fact, I’d only seen him once this month, the time he’d beaten me at darts. And I loved that.
Regardless, Tee and I had been putting up with each other just fine for a little over a year now since she and her husband Aaron had transferred up from San Diego. So, I guess it was safe to say we were officially friends at this point, which made her opinion on Triton that much more problematic. I couldn't just dismiss it, but I wouldn't stand for it either.
"He's a council member, Tee. It comes with the job description. Must look like Nagini and speak fluent Parseltongue. It's in the fine print."
I shrugged and she jabbed her little finger in my face. "You just compared council members to Death Eaters. That alone should make you leery about them, don't you think?"
"Hey, Harry could speak Parseltongue, okay? And he was the hero, so…"
Tee sighed. "Where are you going with this analogy?"
"I don't remember."
The two of us busted up laughing before I glanced at the clock. If I wanted to reach a dom in time for a little punishment and reward session, I needed to get cleaned up and get the hell out of there.
"See ya later, Tee." I waved over my head and retreated to the showers. The steam released my muscles and tension in a way that even fighting hadn’t been able to. I came out of the shower with almost a smile.
Then I changed into a conservative but sleeveless little black dress. The skirt hit just below mid thigh. It had a straight neck, but the ruffled straps hung down on my shoulders. Just a little hint of naughty to go with the nice.
I tossed on a choker with my favorite pendant—an amethyst. It’d been a gift from the mother of the most unfortunate, mentally decrepit asshole who ever lived. But I didn’t blame her for my ex’s flaws, and the stone was pretty. So I kept it.
Once I was dressed and had my duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I pulled out my cell and scrolled through my options. Who will it be today?
Mr. Steel. A man of few words, but many orgasms. He was always promising.
Or perhaps the Gov'na? A delicious hunk of British meat who insisted I scream his name in an English accent every time I came.
Ooh! Or maybe Captain Long Schlong? No, that was totally not his real stage name, and he'd probably whip me raw if he knew I referred to him as such. But holy hell the naughty pirate was hung.
You know what? Getting flogged while tied to a ship mast sounds pretty damn good right now.
Bypassing the elevator, I took the stairs as I made my call. Straight to voicemail. Fuck. Whatever. Getting spanked by the Gov'na sounded delicious as well. I dialed his number—and just like the Captain—it went to voicemail. I hiked even further up the stairs, starting to get winded. Don't fail me, Mr. Steel. I hit the call button and… Son of a bitch! No answer.
I glared as I sprinted the rest of the way up the stairs, taking them two-by-two. What were the fucking odds that all three of my favorite doms would be unavailable on the same night? I mean seriously. I could always just show up at Syn and see who was there. Maybe play with a new guy for a bit? But it just didn't sound as appealing for some reason. Ugh.
Guess I was in for a long hard session with my dinodick—I loved my dildos shaped like dinosaurs with dicks for heads. They were so cute I thought about setting them around my apartment as décor, but ultimately my cunt won that particular argument—she wanted them right next to my bedside at all times. They might've been cute, but they delivered a screaming good orgasm.
At the top of the stairs, I pushed through the doors and into the lobby, surprised to find Triton waiting near the desk.
"Aubry, there you are!" He smiled and strolled over to me, his hands shoved casually into his slacks.
Fae Captive (The Mage Shifter War Book 1) Page 4