Uri

by Dana Archer

“Depends on how you define business. I’m here for personal reasons. That’s business to me at least.” Technically, not a lie. Finding the person who’s killing homeless shifters is a personal quest. Whoever is doing this is targeting my people. That’s what many of the homeless living in this city feel like anyway. I don’t want to see another homeless person—shifter or human—die. I especially don’t want it to be any of the homeless I consider friends.

  “Then help me, and I’ll help you.”

  “What do you want?” If it’s something illegal, I will be causing Sasha trouble. Maybe not tonight, but it’ll happen. Agents are supposed to report things like this.

  “Wave that badge of yours and scare Bryon off for me. Or use your feminine wiles to convince Bryon he shouldn’t come around this part of town. I honestly don’t care how you do it, but he needs to stop showing his face around my place.” Sasha crosses his arms. “His kind isn’t welcome here.”

  “When did you become racist?” Because there’re plenty of other black customers in this pub.

  “When have you started living in denial? You and I both know what Bryon is, and a despondent homeless person is not the right answer.”

  I stare at Sasha with a hopefully neutral expression, but the doubt creeping into my mind is hard to ignore. I can’t distinguish shifters from humans. If I could, I would’ve known Izzy, my childhood friend and the hooker who reported the last murder, was a Royal feline shifter. To me, she was the best friend I grew apart from. And to me, Sasha’s the guy who turned a blind eye to me pickpocketing in his tavern. He’s not on the city’s registered list of shifters either.

  Of course, unless they self-identify or someone else outs them, shifters are no different physiologically than humans. Except for the times when their animal halves are partially merged with their human side. In that instance, they’re both human and animal. Likely that’s why shifters rarely hold on to their modified forms for long. They instinctually act to protect the secrets of the shifter world just as I’ve been conditioned to do.

  “Well?” Sasha raises a brow. “Will you help me out with my problem and chase off Bryon before he screws everything up trying to be a hero when he doesn’t understand what the word means?”

  “Maybe.” While I have no intention of telling Bryon he’s not allowed in any section of his city, I don’t mind suggesting I will. Lives are on the line. “But first I’ve got to find Izzy. Where’s she staying?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe with her clients?” Sasha eases back with an amused smile, as if he knows more than he’ll ever tell me. “But she was in the backroom not long ago. It’s poker night.”

  “All right.” I nod. “I’ll check there. How much for the beer?”

  “On the house.” He pushes my beer closer to me. “Drink up, talk to Izzy, then get out of here. It’s late. Streets aren’t safe here at night anymore. Someone might snatch you up if you’re not careful.”

  “These streets have never been safe.” Living here gives you an edge, however. Or maybe it’s something born of necessity. You can’t live in isolation, cooped up in a safe place.

  “True.” Sasha glances over his shoulder at the clock hanging there. “I gotta go. My shift’s over, and I have people to meet.”

  He steps away before I can answer and pulls out his cell phone, tapping rapidly on the screen. I dutifully finish the tall mug of beer, leaving a large tip in the jar so as not to owe anything else to Sasha, then head to the private backrooms. The restroom door opens before I can make my way down the hallway, and another blast from the past stops my steps.

  The redheaded kid who walked in my circle of friends looks at me and smiles. “Lyla? Oh my gosh, it is you, isn’t it? Our resident golden girl. I’ve never seen anyone else with hair like yours. You look exactly the same, just older. You remember me, right? Abby Ernest? We were best friends in elementary school? Geez, it sure is funny meeting you here on my first night back in town. I wasn’t sure I’d recognize anyone. Guess I was wrong. I’m seeing lots of people I know.”

  Friend isn’t exactly the description I’d use. Acquaintance, maybe? Friend by association? I never hated Abby Ernest. She simply gave off a crazy-girl vibe. I stayed far enough away from her not to trigger it. Then Abby moved, and I never thought of her again. Until now.

  I force a matching smile. “Abby, wow, yeah, I remember you, but I never expected to see you again. Last I heard, you moved to the country with your dad and stepbrothers.”

  “Yep.” Her happy grin wavers, then droops, leaving her with a hollowed expression as if she’s walked through hell and didn’t escape unscathed. “Lived there ever since I moved. I needed a change, though. Life as a pig farmer’s daughter wasn’t exactly a dream come true.”

  “It had to be better than being a hook—” I press my lips together as my cheeks warm and embarrassment seizes me. My troubled beginnings—born to an abused teenage mother who was willing to sell her daughter to cover her debts—isn’t exactly something to brag about either. I survived, though. So did my sister. So did Abby. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.

  “A whore’s mistake.” Abby shrugs. “Maybe it was better. At least I had food in my stomach and a roof over my head with my dad.”

  “Yeah.” My fake smile hurts my cheeks. “But now you’re back home, huh? What brings you here?”

  Abby licks her lips. She casts her gaze to the ground. “Like I said, I needed a change. A new beginning, you know what I mean? Here’s where I’ll get it. Even met a guy who’s been helping me get my life together. I owe a lot to him. Everything, actually.”

  “Oh…that’s nice.” I look from Abby to the poker room’s closed door. “And I hate to cut this short, but I need to find someone before it gets too late.” Because I don’t want to have to visit the alleys and corners where the local girls sell their bodies. There’s only one man I want hitting on me. And Uri’s playing hard to get.

  “We should meet up for lunch or something. It’d be nice to have a real friend again. You know, someone to hang out with, no obligations, no strings attached. Just talking and stuff.”

  The quavering of Abby’s voice stops me from saying I’m too busy. My shoulders slump. My gut instinct toward Abby is the same as it was back in fifth grade. She’s got issues, but sometimes a friend can chase back the demons haunting you.

  “Leave your number at the bar. I’ll give you a call soon.” I squeeze Abby’s forearm as I walk by and hurry to the rear of the pub.

  The rock music fades, and an eerie silence descends. I glance at the closed doors. Officially, each room can be rented by the hour for pool or card games. That’s not all that happens in them. Just about anything is sold behind those doors, from sex to drugs and everything in between. Uncaring if they’re occupied or not, I walk by them. Most times, they’ll be locked anyway.

  With my hand on the poker room’s door handle, I listen, trying to pick up on any signs of what I might be walking in on. Nothing reaches me. No sounds of sex, gambling, or conversation. If I wasn’t so desperate to find Izzy, I’d assume she wasn’t inside and walk away.

  As a Royal shifter, Izzy has the same instincts as Bryon and Uri, though. Likely, she heard me with Abby. Being best friends in elementary school doesn’t grant me any special privileges. If Izzy doesn’t want to talk to me, she’ll stay quiet. Or disappear like Bryon did. The exit leading out to the alley is at the end of this hallway. She might’ve slipped out without me noticing her.

  One way to find out. I open the unlocked door. Darkness greets me.

  “Izzy?” Silence answers me. I missed her. There’re a couple of other places to try, but none are on my top places to visit. Doesn’t look as if I have a choice, however.

  On a sigh, I pull the door toward me. Fingers wrap around my wrist. I inhale sharply, but I’m yanked into the dark room before I can scream. The door slams shut behind me.

  A hand clamps over my mouth. Another large palm presses into my stomach, holding me firmly against a hard chest. “
Shifter Affairs agents aren’t welcome in this city. They certainly shouldn’t be sticking their noses in business that doesn’t concern them. Why are you?”

  With his hand over my mouth, I can’t answer this shifter or tell him I’m here for Izzy, not him. And this guy’s got to be a shifter too. The voice growled into my ear doesn’t sound anything remotely close to human.

  I grasp his wrist and tug, but he doesn’t release me even though he asked me a question. He presses his chin against my temple, forcing me to bend my head, then skims his nose over my hair to my ear, the same ear Sasha whispered into not long ago. “Or are you just a little lost girl looking for a new owner?”

  I fight to keep my breathing even as fear slithers through me.

  “Answer me.”

  I shake my head. Playing along is my only choice at the moment. I can’t scream, and I can’t run.

  “You’re really not looking for a new owner? But your mama thought you’d make a very good pet.”

  Before I can do more than acknowledge the fear and disgust twining into my heart, he curls his fingers slightly so the tips of sharpened nails press into my belly, then he drags his nails down my stomach, ripping my shirt and dress pants and slicing my skin. My nostrils flare on my harsh inhales, and my eyes water as sharp pain spreads outward from my groin. He nicked me there.

  “Not even a scream. She was right.”

  He laughs, a deep rumbly sound that speeds my pulse and leaves me trembling, but not in a good way. The fear settling in my gut is the kind that prey animals feel. I should know. The other night when I ended up in Uri’s arms wasn’t the first time I ran as if my life depended on it. Working with shifters guarantees it won’t be the last either. And knowing one day I might not escape is a possibility I’ve long ago made peace with. Ever since the night Sam went missing.

  “Too bad I made a deal with the big bad bear, little Lyla, and you weren’t part of it.” He licks along my jaw to my ear, a sensation that leaves bile burning my throat. “Deals can be broken, though. And if you think to show your face in this tavern again, I promise you, nobody will save you from your fate.”

  The warning settles in my bones. I don’t doubt this shifter’s threat or the danger I’m in. He’ll kill me.

  “Have I made myself clear?”

  I nod again, giving the only response I can.

  “Good.” He slides his hand from my mouth to my neck, then to my upper chest. The scraping of sharpened nails stings as he drags them over my breasts.

  My limbs shake and tears leak from my eyes as he bleeds me, but I don’t scream. There’s no point. Predators enjoy hearing their prey scream. That tidbit of information came along with other frequently asked questions about shifters in one of the trainings I completed.

  “Oh, yes. You are a very good girl, aren’t you?” The shifter moves his other hand lower, pressing the points of his claws into my groin. “So very obedient, and you haven’t even been broken yet. Must be why Bryon took the stance he did last night.”

  I freeze, every muscle locked, while my heart tries to escape my chest. My shaky exhale doesn’t strengthen me, but it focuses me. I need to get out of here. Any way I can. “What stance did he take?”

  “He claimed you.” The shifter holding me chuckles. “Then lost you. Guess he’s not as scary as he thinks.”

  The dangerous press of claws against my groin eases, but the sound of my zipper coming undone nearly tears a whimper from my throat. I press my lips together and stand completely still, not wanting to encourage this shifter to dominate me. I learned that in one of the Shifter Affairs’ training slides. Actually the same one with all those other fun facts about shifters.

  “That was you with the lighter?”

  “Yes, and we didn’t get to find out if Bryon is as tough as he claims, did we? He ran.” He slips his fingers under the elastic of my underwear, then drags them through the blood I can feel against my skin. “But even if he is powerful, he’s not smart. He left you all alone. Unprotected. Unwanted. I can steal you before he can reclaim you. Right here. Right now. And I do have need for a female. It’s expected for males in my position to have a little lady, you know? He can’t do a thing to stop me.”

  My nostrils flare on harsher breaths. Fear, pain, or anger? I can’t tell, but I’ll be damned if I let this shifter rape me feet away from a bar full of drunks. All I need to do is get out of this room. “And not chase me first? Or prove you’re tougher? Now where’s the fun in that?”

  Another twisted laugh shakes the chest pressed against my back and pushes the sharp points of his claws into my delicate flesh, tearing a whimper from my throat. The shifter holding my life in his hands makes a pleased sound.

  “You’re right. I like those around me afraid.” The shifter drops his hands and steps back. “So run.”

  The door opens, casting light into the room. I don’t look at the shifter. I bolt through the door and run toward the bar. Without screaming. I can’t get a sound out. Not even a single word or a squeak. Nothing. I couldn’t the last time he chased me either.

  Fear weakens me.

  The sounds of music and life compel me forward. Pumping my arms, I run past the bathrooms, casting a cautious look behind me. The hallway’s empty. I glance forward. A man’s chest looms in front of me. I slam into the living muscular wall, and the scream I couldn’t get out moments ago rips from my throat. I shove against the man. The need to escape is undeniable.

  Big beefy arms wrap around me, cocooning me in his embrace. “Shh…I’ve got you.”

  With my elbows bent in front of me, I can’t fight. I can’t get away. I’ve been caught. No! I thrash against this man’s hold and suck in air to scream again. The scent of life—a warm savanna day—fills my lungs. Tension drains from my limbs.

  “Lyla, baby, calm down.” A large palm settles at the base of my neck. Uri threads his fingers into my hair and tips my head back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  Dozens of different emotions leave me shaking, but I manage to wrangle an arm free and point behind me. “The man who chased me yesterday. He’s back there.”

  Uri’s upper lip pulls back on a low snarl. He lifts me with his hands at my waist and drops me into the waiting embrace of another man, then takes off down the hallway to the rear section of the building.

  I jerk up my zipper, haphazardly button my jacket, hiding the blood on my clothes, and look into this new man’s face. No, not a man. A shifter. His resemblance to Uri is uncanny. Same facial features. Same brown hair. Same wide shoulders and strong cut to his jaw. Only his eyes are different—pale blue where Uri’s are brown.

  “You’re bleeding.” Although he speaks quietly, I can hear the concern in his voice.

  Swallowing hard, I glance down the length of my body. No blood shows with my jacket buttoned, and since nobody is rushing over, I can only assume nobody noticed my cuts. Or they don’t care. Either way, I’ve upheld my promise to Shifter Affairs by not exposing anything that might lead humans to look too closely at the lives of shifters or the new special police department stationed nearby.

  “Not bad. I’ll be fine.” I lean to the side, but I can’t see past the bathrooms. “You should go help Uri. I’m fine here.”

  “He can handle this.”

  Harsh, gravelly, his tone doesn’t invite anyone to question him. In this, I must. “There’s a back door leading out into the alley. I don’t know what’s out there or who. This guy and his buddies might gang up on Uri and—”

  “My twin is capable of handling this.”

  The confirmation of my earlier assumption that this man is a shifter too doesn’t satisfy me. “But Uri might be in danger.”

  Without taking his attention from the hallway behind us, Uri’s twin shrugs. “If he is, I won’t be able to help him.”

  The bitterness in this shifter’s tone draws my brows together. “But why not? You’re his twin. You’ve got to be just as strong, just as fast, just as—”

  �
�Not like this.” The shifter curls one hand around the waistband of my jeans as if he suspects me of getting ready to run, then slides his other hand up my arm, over my shoulder to my neck. With a featherlight touch, he skims his fingertips across my jaw, cheeks, and nose. Finally, he tips up my chin and lowers his gaze to mine. “We’ll stay right here until Uri returns. This is not up for discussion.”

  My first instinct is to argue. I’d rather Uri’s pride be hurt than actually see him injured in any way. And even as the thought takes root within me, I know how crazy it sounds. As an immortal, any pain Uri experiences will be brief. He can heal anything as long as he doesn’t lose his head or heart. Still, I don’t want him to suffer. Ever.

  “What’s your name?” Because I have to ask something. The sheer intensity in his piercing study is unnerving.

  “Ezra Alexander.” Ezra releases his hold on my chin and glances off into the distance. “And you’re Lyla…”

  “Bradford. I work with Uri.”

  Ezra nods, his attention on whatever he’s watching never wavering. I look in that direction. Only the old jukebox takes up that section of the wall. There’s nobody standing near it. The hallway leading to the backrooms is several feet to the left. Shifters have better senses than humans, however. There’s got to be something special about that area for Ezra to be staring at it so intently. Maybe he can hear whoever is in the room behind that wall? That’s my only guess.

  I point to the empty table not far from us. “If you won’t help Uri, let’s sit there while we wait.” So I don’t drip blood on the floor.

  On a sigh, Ezra dances his fingertips across my face, nearly poking me in the eye before grasping my chin and turning my head. He bends close, his mouth to my ear. “You belong to Uri. That’s the only reason I’m sharing my weakness with you, and I’m expecting you to keep the knowledge of my handicap to yourself. I don’t want the others in this bar to know about it. Do you promise to keep it a secret?”

  Ezra’s revelation that I belong to Uri sparks an excitement within me that leaves my mouth dry and has butterflies dancing in my belly, but Ezra’s question demands an answer. “Yes.”