What was he saying? What was Bodie saying? Curiosity clawed me like a cat. I tried to read his lips.
That’s when the burning smell hit my nose. I turned.
Fuck!
I ran back to my pot to find a disgusting mess. The sides of the pot were ringed in brown.
"What the fuck’s going on?" Drake roared, returning to the kitchen. He grabbed my pot off the stove and dumped it into the sink. He turned the faucet on. A hiss and a curl of steam erupted from the hot metal.
I turned the burner off and faced him defensively. "You distracted me."
"What?"
"Don’t try and have a secret conversation about someone while they’re cooking."
Drake balled his fists and raised them like he wanted to punch me.
"Go ahead, but if you do it, I’m not holding back."
He lowered his hands.
I struck anyway. I gave him a right hook so hard that I felt it all the way up to my shoulder. My bones rang with pain.
Drake looked startled. But only for a second. Then his black brows drew down and he was on top of me, pinning me to the floor as I kicked and tried to punch him.
"Stop it!" he growled, smoke escaping from his mouth in rings, like a fucking mobster smoking a cigar. He wrapped his hands around my wrists and his thick thighs pinned down my legs and the bottom half of my wings.
"What did you tell Bodie?" I snarled up at him, then coughed. Fucking smoke. I stretched my fingers and used my nails to rake bloody streaks across the back of his hand.
"You bitch!" Drake snapped. Then he lay full on top of me, his weight pressing down on me so that I couldn’t breathe.
Fucker was huge. Not as big as Easton, but his chest was twice as wide as mine. His hands turned into claws in order to better escape my nails. I realized almost instantly that those claws had a very good chance of puncturing my wings if I kept fighting.
But I was past the point of caring.
I wiggled to get my hip out from under him, then wrapped my unchained leg around his waist, using my heel to kick inward and jab the back of his leg. He didn’t even react. The motherfucker was made of steel or something. His pecs certainly felt like it. I tried to roll my hips and shift him off of me, but he was too heavy. I let out a frustrated cry.
Drake leaned down and got in my face. "All I fucking told Bodie was the name of the asshole who tried to take you. Triton Vale. He’ll do the rest."
No. Fear slithered into me like a snake. I froze, staring up at Drake’s blue eyes. I took in his serious expression and the set of his jaw. Trite was a mage… he was protected. But Bodie had lived off the radar for so long… I knew. In my heart of hearts I knew what the outcome would be.
"He’s gonna kill Trite, isn’t he?" I whimpered.
Drake didn’t even crack a smile. "Would you expect anything less?"
18
Bodie
I stalked after my target like a deadly predator.
His putrid aroma had disappeared when he had, so I didn’t have a scent trail to follow, but I'd already committed his scent to memory. Hunting him down was now my top priority.
The fucker had tried to steal my mate away, and I was going to end him for it.
Prowling through the streets of Santa Monica, I carefully sifted through the air for any trace of him. I didn't know his name, but I knew he was a mage. I didn't know where he lived, but I knew he was a friend of Aubry's. Since Aubry lived in Santa Monica, I figured I'd start there.
Humans walked up and down the sidewalks, just as relentless as the traffic on Wilshire Boulevard. They bumped each other’s shoulders and ignored manners as they went about their business, each acting as if they were the only people left on the planet. Like the world somehow revolved around them.
They never bumped into me, though. No matter how crowded the sidewalk was, my wolf emitted a predatory vibe so strong that the humans subconsciously shied away.
Good. I didn't need naive non-magicals getting caught in my crosshairs.
Hours passed as I strategically scanned the various Boulevards—Santa Monica, Olympic, Pico, Lincoln, Cloverfield—sniffing at the air like a bloodhound. I carefully compartmentalized where I'd been and what I'd smelled so I could continue narrowing down my search. The asshole didn't seem to live within five miles of Aubry's apartment, which was a good thing for him, even though I was still going to graffiti the walls with his brains when I found him.
I'd almost made it to Ocean Park Boulevard when I felt my current cell vibrate in the back pocket of my jeans. I swiped at a bead of sweat about to drip into my brow, and I quickly brought the phone to my ear.
"What's up?" I never bothered with formalities such as saying hello. I didn't have time for that shit, and quite frankly, it didn't really fit the assassin vibe I had going on.
"Triton Vale." Drake's voice filled my head like a broken record echoing in a cave.
I didn't say a word. I just hung up to book an Uber ride. Now that I had a name, I could do a much more thorough and much less time-consuming search for his whereabouts. But I couldn’t do that in the middle of the street. I needed some privacy.
When I logged onto the app, I made sure to put "underground" as the password, which opened up a special supernatural login screen. I scanned my thumbprint and, seconds later, a whole new map appeared, showing the locations of various supe rides I could request. After all, I couldn't trust just anyone to pick me up and drop me off.
I found Drew, one of my old packmates nearby, driving a rundown baby blue El Camino. It wasn't going to be pretty, but it would have to do. I chose a pickup location up ahead, so that I could keep walking instead of standing around wasting time while I waited for him—Sweat City Fitness. I'd never been there, but I sure as hell wouldn't look out of place lounging by a gym. It was better than the girly clothing shops nearby. What a weird name though. I couldn’t imagine a conversation where I’d want to say I was at Sweat City. I found the building and lounged up against the wall for just a second before I saw the car.
As soon as Drew rolled up, I climbed into the backseat and got to work. Larry had encrypted my phone with magic to make it untraceable, allowing me to access the dark web without ever getting caught. He'd done the same to Drake and Easton's, but the dragon was too paranoid to trust the magic. No offense to Larry, Drake didn't really trust anyone that much. Not even himself. I saw the way he looked in the mirror after he’d shifted and flamed. There was a lot of guilt weighing down his shoulders. Me? Not so much. I had people to protect. I’d tossed aside guilt and spat in her face long ago.
"Where to, dude?" Drew asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.
I shook my head, barely paying any attention as I searched for Triton Vale on the dark database. "Anywhere. Just drive."
Drew grinned. My pack had long ago gotten used to my brash demeanor. "Whatever you say, Bodie-man."
I tapped enter, and file after file appeared under Triton's name. Some of them were outdated and possibly even the wrong guy—that stupid mermaid movie had caused a rash of sirens to name their kids Triton in the nineties—but others triggered my instincts, and I knew in my bones that I was on the right track. I clicked the third file and opened it up.
Triton Vale. Blond hair, blue eyes. Five foot eleven inches tall. One hundred eighty pounds. Graduated from Mag-Sorgin University six years ago. Youngest member of the Mage Council.
The Mage Council? Jesus, how important was the scrawny little fuck?
I got back to reading, scanning the file for an address. The only one I found was from downtown, nearly six years ago—clearly from his college days. Nothing newer. Shit.
"Take me to the Venice Beach precinct," I told Drew, who immediately hung a hard right and made a U-turn.
"You got it, dude."
I narrowed my eyes and gazed out the window as I thought. If this bastard worked for the Mage Council, then his scent trail was bound to be found near the precinct where Aubry worked. A cluster of magical buildings were i
n that area and he could have visited any one of them. From there, I'd be able to trace him back to anywhere, but preferably his apartment where I could skin him alive before blowing a hole through his dumbass head.
You fucked with the wrong shifter, Triton.
He'd picked my mate to kidnap—rescue? Fuck it, it didn't matter. Mine. He'd pissed me off—me, the best assassin on the shifter's side of the war. And he wasn't going to live another day to regret that decision.
I pulled a handgun from my hip holster and busied myself with readying it, making sure I was full on ammo, that the silencer was screwed on tight, and that the sights were still perfectly aligned. It would be more satisfying to let my wolf kill him slowly. But, unlike other assassins, I didn’t go for satisfaction. I cared about results. It was why I’d never been caught.
"You, uh, planning on knocking someone off?" Drew asked, as he stared at me in the rearview mirror.
I leaned forward and smacked the back of his head and then averted the mirror. "Just drive."
Twenty minutes later, thanks to the godawful fucking traffic, I had him drop me off on Washington Boulevard—far enough away to avoid anything conspicuous on either of our parts. I handed him a fifty and shut the creaky car door behind me, patting the roof to let him know he should leave. As he pulled back onto the street, I made my way toward the precinct.
Sniffing carefully, I scanned the air for any signs of Triton soon-to-be-dickless Vale floating on the breeze. But I found none. Odd. If he was on the Mage Council, his scent would be all over around this part of town. Maybe I just wasn't close enough yet.
At the next corner, I turned right onto Venice Boulevard, assessing my surroundings while with a bored, unassuming expression, like I was just some normal fuck on a grocery run. I tilted my head at a slight angle toward the ground, hunched my shoulders just enough to look casual but not enough to appear weak, and carefully stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets. It was way too fucking warm for a jacket tonight. But appearances had to be kept up. And I couldn’t just walk around with my gun in the open. My finger stayed on the trigger just in case.
Murder was a fucking art. One I'd mastered long ago. My acting skills definitely aided my success. That, and the fact that I had incredible aim, could assemble and disassemble a firearm in the dark in under a minute, and had approximately zero emotional baggage surrounding the act itself.
Jesus, when I put it like that, no wonder Aubry tried to run away…
Glaring, I shoved that thought down and shot it through the chest. I didn't need any more reasons to be pissed at her or myself. Right now, I just needed to do what I did best—track and annihilate.
As I approached the precinct, I realized rather quickly that something was off. There was no scent trail that matched the man who'd disappeared outside of Drake's apartment. So, either that man and Triton were not the same man, or Triton hadn't been in and out of the precinct in days. As a council member, I didn't see how that could be possible for old Dickless to achieve; mages were in and out of there nonstop and even with their portal potions, they still left traces of their scent behind.
I took another deep breath and continued walking, never once glancing toward the building beside me or looking up at any of the people who filtered in and out. Still, I found nothing, not even the smallest hint of his scent on the breeze.
Growling quietly, I rounded the next corner and pulled out my cell. I dialed and, as soon as the phone stopped ringing, I spoke. I didn't even wait for him to answer. "Goldilocks, meet me at the cottage," I ordered, using our code words.
Easton arrived at my place just as the sun went down. He looked all pained and distressed, which irritated the ever-loving hell out of me. I didn’t care what he thought he felt. Aubry was my mate, not his. He didn't get to feel like shit because of her, I did.
Normally I wouldn't argue on behalf of a woman who made me feel like shit, but clearly, I'd lost my damned mind. I couldn't get her out of my head no matter how much I tried. Her scent was constantly clogging up half of my nose. Even my shirt had a trace of her on it, which was like a stupid fucking balm since I was away from her. Fate was a fickle bitch, teasing me with a mate who didn't want me in return.
"So, what'd you need?" Easton asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the outside of my building.
I gazed out across the dusky parking lot and over to where the mage had damn near escaped with my mate. My lip curled and my teeth elongated slightly as my eyes flashed with warmth. "I need help tracking that bastard-ass mage."
Easton had the good sense to look surprised. "You're the best tracker we have."
"Yes, and I've hit a dead-end."
Goldilocks shook his head. "I wasn't out here when it happened. And by the time I arrived, the smoke from the Portal Potion had overridden any scent trails."
"I know," I ground out, feeling far more aggravated than I had before he'd shown up.
I had to remind myself that I'd called him, he hadn't just shown up uninvited. I needed his help, so I needed to play nice. Even if I did want to sucker punch him in the mouth for feeling heartbroken over my mate trying to leave us. Me. Trying to leave me.
Easton shrugged. "So what, then?"
I sighed heavily, biting my bottom lip to keep from cussing him out. I mean, seriously, how many bears did it take to screw in a lightbulb? Yanking the stairwell door open, I gestured curtly for him to step inside. "We'll talk more in private."
After we hiked up to the third floor, and shut and locked my apartment door behind us, I got down to business. "Drake gave me a name: Triton Vale."
"Okay?" Easton said cluelessly, as he rummaged through my cupboards until he found a bag of chips. He opened the bag and immediately started munching.
Fucking bear shifters. They didn't actually hibernate like their animal counterparts, but they sure as fuck acted like they were constantly preparing for it.
I sighed and grabbed a handful of chips for myself. "Average height, weight, and build. Blond hair, blue eyes. Smelled kinda like a mothball with an underlying note of smoke and rotten eggs."
"A mothball?" Easton asked, his pale blue eyes lighting up with recognition. "That's what the guy from the pub smelled like. The one Aubry was with the night I met her. His description sounds the same, too. Is he the one who tried to rescue her?"
My nostrils flared, and the blood in every inch of my veins started boiling. "It appears that way. So, they were… together?"
So help me fucking god, if he'd stuck his lanky, limp dick in my mate's cunt, I was going to rip it off and shove it in his mouth like a gag before I killed him. Slowly. Fuck efficiency.
Easton glowered, telling me all I cared to know.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think she had any kind of romantic feelings for him, but he definitely seemed interested in her."
"How? I need every ounce of information right now." While that might've been true, I'd never admit that this was more of a masochistic punishment than a necessary piece of information.
Goldilocks shook his pale blond head. "I don't know. It wasn't in anything he did; he played the part of overprotective bestie. It was more in what he wasn't saying or doing, coupled with the pheromones and testosterone in the air."
I clenched my jaw so tight that I was surprised my teeth didn't shatter. "Anything else you can tell me about this punk-ass bitch?"
"He ended up going off with some random chick," Easton sighed and shook his head.
Great. Then I was back to square one: sniffing up and down every mother fucking street from Santa Monica to Venice Beach. Son of a bitch. At least I had an extra nose this time.
I patted Easton's shoulder, and he immediately tensed, his eyes flashing gold like he was ready for a fight.
Yeah well, back at ya, Baby Bear. You just keep your spoon in your own porridge bowl and sleep in your own fucking bed, and we won't have any problems.
Three days.
Three hot as shit, frustrating as hell, never ending days.
.. we searched for that shit-dick mage.
Three.
I'd never had so much trouble tracking down a target in my life, and the worst part was, I wasn't even sure if he was trying to hide. My fucking heart was more invested than my head in this situation, and that had never happened to me before. It fucked up my concentration, and ate away at my sanity like worms on a corpse.
Easton and I met back up in front of Tortoise General Store on Venice, and he looked just as pissed and empty handed as I was. We both pretended to look into the store window at this weird hanger art thing someone had stuck on the ceiling as he reported back to me. His hands fidgeted as he said, "Seriously, where the fuck has this mage disappeared to? The fucking Alps? The Sahara?"
Great. He’d come up as empty as I had. I growled in frustration. "Not even a hint of a scent?" I asked him.
"Nope. You?"
"No."
Easton ran the back of his hand across his brow and gazed across the bumper-to-bumper traffic. "So, what do we do? Just keep looking forever?"
Yes, my heart shouted, and the yell echoed through my chest and rattled my bones. Externally, I was able to keep a better handle on things. I didn’t fidget like Easton. "He'll turn up eventually," I replied darkly. My brows lowered, my eyes narrowed and my lips grew taut. I didn't give a shit if I had to search for the rest of the week, I was going to find and execute this mage.
Easton wasn't used to the dogged determination of an assassin. But whatever, I didn't need him. "Leave, if you want," I said, and I strode off down the sidewalk. "I'll track him on my own."
"It could take you weeks on your own," Easton protested. By the sound of his voice, he was keeping up rather than giving up.
"It never takes me weeks," I told him, feeling the frustration of this goose chase crawl up my throat again as the scent of over-perfumed humans assaulted my nose and a cluster of giggling girls passed, eyeing me appreciatively. My dick didn’t even twitch. Not interested.
"I'm not leaving."
The bear was being stubborn. Normally, I'd have appreciated his tenacity and his help, but right now? It made me suspicious. I slowed my walk, waiting at a light for him to catch up.
Fae Captive (The Mage Shifter War Book 1) Page 19