Uri

by Dana Archer

  A pleased smile flickers across his mouth before fading. He pries my hand from around the waistband of his jeans and twines our fingers. “No, baby. We didn’t lose her.”

  “Then we should go after her before we do.”

  Uri urges me forward, turning down the narrow lane where we’d had sex. Flashing lights brighten the other end and offer a perfect view of the woman with her legs spread next to the unmarked police car and her hands splayed on the roof.

  “Izzy.” I say her name softly, but she looks over her shoulder as if she heard me perfectly even with the distance between us and the noise of the nearby city street.

  Izzy’s focus doesn’t linger on me long, though. She slides her attentive glare to Uri even as the arresting agent pats her down. Rick doesn’t cop a feel as he works his way down her body. His moves are efficient and businesslike, even including the pair of nitrile gloves on his hands. At her calves, he stops and pulls a knife from the inside of her heeled boot, then lifts her foot and unclips a throwing star embedded into the sole. Both weapons disappear into his coat before he pulls out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Awfully convenient Rick was in the area and knew we were chasing Izzy.” I cut Uri a side look. After witnessing how he could share his sight with his twin, I can’t help but wonder what other abilities he has up his sleeve.

  One corner of Uri’s lip quivers, but he works his jaw, hiding any sign of his smug amusement. “Yes, very convenient. It’s as if an inside tip alerted Rick to our fleeing suspect.”

  “Is that what Izzy is now? A suspect?”

  “She ran.” Uri shrugs. “Until she tells us what we need to know, suspect is the easiest label we can put on her.”

  A blond man wearing all black steps around the car and snatches the metal cuffs from Rick’s hands. He leans in and says something to Izzy. We’re too far away for me to hear or even guess by the way this man’s mouth moves, but Izzy’s response is clear. She takes the cuffs out of his hand, snaps the link over one of her wrists, then holds the other out to Rick. He complies, locking the other side and opening the backseat door.

  Uri steps forward. “Come on. The head of my family is not the most personable, especially when those around him disobey his dictates.”

  “That’s Kade Alexander?” I take in the man’s clothes that mirror what Rick is wearing—the plain, dark, and ordinary outfit of an undercover agent—and cast Uri a look that hopefully portrays my confusion. “Riding with Rick tonight?”

  “Training with Rick tonight.” Uri’s voice takes on a disapproving growl. “Or acting as a mentee, officially, but Kade doesn’t like that term. He says it makes him sound deficient in some way.”

  With Izzy locked in the back of the car, Kade makes his way down the narrow lane between the apartment buildings that’s become known as Hooker’s Lane. Uri’s fingers flex, squeezing mine in what strikes me as indecision. Twice, he almost slips his hand from mine.

  On a long, audible exhale, Uri pulls me into him at the same time he steps closer, effectively cocooning me in the shelter of his embrace. His free hand settles over my belly, not too low to be inappropriate, but not casually either. It’s a move I can’t help feel as though screams mine.

  My smile is for Uri, for the obvious claim of me in front of his alpha, but I incline my head in Kade’s direction. “Not the best of circumstances, but I’m glad to meet you, Kade Alexander.”

  Kade skims the back of his hand along my jaw to my chin before tipping up my head. “And you must be the beautiful Lyla. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Have you?” I can’t imagine my name would come up in the circles an alpha of a powerful Royal pride walks. Unless, of course, Uri brought me up.

  “It’s lucky you were out on the streets tonight.”

  Kade chuckles at Uri’s comment, then glances at the man holding me. “It’s lucky you tipped me off to our runaway family member.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. Izzy’s an Alexander—Uri’s pride mate. No wonder he was so focused on catching her.

  Uri’s glare turns into a reprimanding scowl, the same he’s directed at me on more than one occasion. “Careful, Kade. Your random comments might give away secrets the outside world shouldn’t know about.”

  Kade’s smirk turns into a full, cocky smile that gives him a wicked edge instead of warming his features. “Lyla’s practically family. No need to keep anything from her, including the knowledge that the man chosen for her is too stubborn to realize he’s found his heaven.”

  Fourteen

  Uri

  Heaven. I don’t deserve heaven. I don’t deserve pleasure. And I don’t deserve a female.

  But I have Lyla.

  Even with my eyes closed, I feel her. She’s as far from where I’m sitting in the passenger seat of the unmarked police car as possible. Seated behind Rick, she can watch me. I’d have to turn around to do the same.

  On an exhale, I allow my lion closer to my consciousness. My senses amplify, granting me the insights of the world Ezra is accustomed to interpreting. It’s a different way to view the space around me, limiting in some ways, but insightful in others.

  Scents and sounds intensify. So does the need for Lyla. Her lips on mine. Her body accepting mine. And the welcoming lure of her soul, so close but so far.

  One taste of Lyla and I want everything she can give me—pleasure, peace, a home I’ll never lose. Mostly, though, I want to own her. My soul a gilded cage she’ll never want to leave.

  I ball my hands, but the tingling of my fingertips doesn’t ease. My heaven is so close but so far.

  “So…” Rick’s teasing tone jerks my focus to him. “Did you and Lyla have fun tonight?”

  There’s no hiding what we did together tonight. The scent of sex hangs in the small confines of the car. For a brief moment back in that alley, I wanted to keep what I and Lyla shared a secret, though. Selfish of me, but I didn’t get the chance to finish what we started. It would’ve been nice to experience everything sex can offer a man before I had to endure my family’s ribbing. And Rick is family. We just don’t share a blood tie.

  My death stare doesn’t sober Rick any more than it would deter a pride mate. Rick’s mocking laugh accompanies his wider smile. He slides his fisted grip to the top of the wheel as he makes the turn onto the highway leading back to the Shifter Affairs office. “Mya and I had some fun out at the new lot we bought for our house today too. Snow was cold on my bare ass, though. ’Course, better me than my mate as she…”

  Lyla clears her throat, the sound loud and deliberate. “You’re an Alexander?”

  The question is obviously for Izzy. The silence in the car makes me wonder if she’s going to bother answering it.

  Finally, Izzy sighs, another loud and purposeful sound. This one carries a touch of annoyance, though. “Apparently and unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunately?” Kade’s tone warns Izzy to rein in her attitude. “By unfortunately, you mean it’s regrettable we didn’t find you sooner. That’s what you mean. Isn’t it, Isadora Alexander?”

  “Izzy Gomez, actually. I have the birth certificate and social security card to prove it.”

  “Along with a criminal record attached to that name.” Kade’s sharp response carries the force of his displeasure. “And a sealed juvie file with the human and shifter governments.”

  Izzy’s pleased chuckle mocks Kade’s revelation. “Good to know people remember my name.”

  “You think so?” Kade asks with that way he has that lets you know he already has a lecture prepared for you. Resisting only delays the inevitable.

  Carefully avoiding Lyla’s stare, I turn in my seat to look behind me to where Izzy has her cuffed hands resting demurely on her lace-covered thighs. “A little advice, Izzy. Honor and loyalty are extremely important to shifters, but to the Alexander pride, they mean more. It’s fundamental to who we are. Vows are upheld no matter what, betrayal is never forgotten, and each member is expected to live up to the expectations of t
he first Alexander. This is who we are. What we are. Our integrity is what sets us apart from other Royals, you understand? We are Alexanders.”

  Izzy shrugs as if my words matter little and won’t change her life or her opinion about herself. “The first Alexander died a victim to his foolish integrity before I was born. His beliefs mean nothing to me.”

  “You know of him?” As a shifter who grew up among humans, I can’t imagine where she’d get that information. Unless she’s making things up on the fly to rile Kade. She wouldn’t be the first female to intentionally irritate him.

  “Sure.” Izzy leans into Lyla, blocking her from view and meeting my gaze, eye to eye. “I’m not the only shifter living around these parts. People talk. I listen.”

  “I know of only one person who would know tales of the firstborn Royals.” And Bryon’s view of the shifter world is skewed, twisted by his past.

  “Bryon Murphy, the sole member of the Murphy clan.” Izzy inclines her head. “Yes, if that’s who you’re implying, that’s who I mean. When he’s talked, I’ve listened.”

  “Bryon willingly shared stories with you?” There’s shock and a hint of hurt in Lyla’s voice.

  I glance at her, needing to see if her expression matches her tone. Jealousy doesn’t compel me to judge her expression. She all but told me she’s never been involved with Bryon despite his misleading comment. The thought of Lyla upset stirs the part of me that wants to kill for her, eliminating whatever’s causing her pain.

  As if she feels my stare, she turns her head, and her direct stare locks with mine. The connection she awakened the night she welcomed me into her soul beckons me closer. There’s no more denying why.

  Lyla can be my home.

  The truth is powerful. I feel it in my soul, my body…my heart. This brave, foolish woman can heal me…if I let her.

  “Willingly?” Izzy’s laugh booms in the car. “Bryon doesn’t willingly talk to anyone. Talking is the price I charge him for sex. One night with me, one story. And when I’m fertile, he’s got lots of stories to tell.”

  Lyla’s expression falls, her mouth drooping and brow drawing down, but she doesn’t break our locked stare. “You’ve known you were a shifter for a while, then?”

  “All my life, but I didn’t know ‘shifter’ was the right term. Didn’t know Royal was either. Just knew I was different and couldn’t let anyone else know it. Couldn’t risk anyone hurting my cats, you know? They’re counting on me to keep us alive. Can’t trust anyone these days.”

  “Even me?” Lyla breaks our gaze and looks at the woman sitting next to her. “I learned about shifters because of what happened to Sam. You could’ve told me then. I never would’ve betrayed you.”

  “I know I could’ve.” Izzy uses her cuffed hands to tug at the front of her dress, or whatever it’s called. It’s too long to be a shirt, but it barely covered her bottom when she’d spread her legs next to the police car not long ago. No matter its technical name, the shiny material stretches over her chest, bringing attention to her curves. “But what was the point? You got yourself a sweet deal and a ticket out of our neighborhood when that agent swooped in and took you outta here. My path took a different direction.”

  “You left our neighborhood too.” Lyla’s probing study takes in Izzy’s exotic features—honey-brown, uptilted eyes, high cheekbones, a full wide mouth, tanned skin. Combined with her dark hair, she could’ve passed herself off as a Romany if she’d been human. “You were gone for over a decade. Bryon told me you moved back once I got out of school and settled in this area again, but I could never seem to find you around. It became obvious you were avoiding me, so I stopped trying. Where were you for that missing decade?”

  “Cats like to wander.” Izzy laughs at what I’m guessing is supposed to be a joke. “Figured I’d see the world while I had the chance.”

  “While you had the chance?” Lyla straightens. “You’re immortal. You’re going to have forever.”

  “Wasn’t guaranteed back then.” Izzy’s red-painted mouth contorts into an angry snarl. “Especially for girls like me who could break at the hands of a too-rough client, and the ones who wanted a go at me liked using teeth and claws.”

  “You’re a hooker.” Kade speaks softly, regretfully. “Have been a hooker most of your life, haven’t you?”

  Izzy’s snarl turns into a small smile as if she knows a secret he doesn’t. “If that term helps compartmentalize what my life’s been like, use it. Know it doesn’t come close to the truth, though. Not even remotely close to the truth. But hey, let’s go with hooker.”

  “What term would you use?” Rick speaks up. “Or better yet, what’s driving you to live this life? You know what you are, who you are, and where you came from. So why are you working the streets, and why did you run from your pride mate?”

  Izzy looks at the rearview mirror, no doubt meeting Rick’s reflected eyes. “That’s three questions, agent man. How ’bout you pick one at a time? I ain’t too smart. No street girl is.”

  “Agent Lyall. Or Agent Rick Lyall. That’s the only way you will address my partner.” My young pride mate may not care about respect, but Rick deserves it. He’ll get it too. I won’t stand for less. “And how about I pick a question for you? Why did you run?”

  Izzy studies her cuffed hands for a long moment. No sign of fear or anxiety shows. Annoyance does with the firm press of her lips. “Bad timing, honestly. As soon as I felt my pride’s presence, I knew I had to get away. I didn’t have time for a reunion or any nonsense tonight. I had an important meeting set up. My curiosity won, though. And like usual, curiosity kills the cat. Or in my case, my curiosity will end up killing some poor shmuck on the streets tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lyla pushes against Izzy’s shoulder until she looks at her. “Who’s going to die?”

  “A human? A shifter?” Izzy shrugs. “Darn if I know, I can just guarantee someone’s going to overdose on the new drug being whispered about on the streets. Harry got ahold of it. Been selling the syringes he found for a hundred bucks a pop.”

  “A form of Elixir?” Kade asks just as Lyla opens her mouth, probably to ask the same thing.

  “Yep.” Izzy looks over her shoulder at Kade. “And this one is becoming highly marketable for dealers. It slows the organ damage Elixir’s known for among humans.”

  “How?” Lyla sits straighter.

  “A Royal’s added his blood to it, healing the previous damage from Elixir but causing more each time they use it. Addicts have to keep coming back for more. They have to, you see? The moment they stop taking it, they start to rot from the inside out, just like a regular Elixir addict, but from what I hear it’s expensive. Like twenty times more than the regular stuff.”

  “Because a Royal has to bleed for it.” Rick adds his guess. It’s not a bad one, but it doesn’t entirely cover the issue.

  “You can’t simply bottle a Royal’s blood as a miracle drug. If that was possible, many of our kind would simply become forced donors.” And exploiting Royals would be even more marketable.

  “We have to extend our strength…our essence…our tie to the heavens.” Kade nods. “Yes, that’s the right way to explain it. We’re sharing our gifts from the heavens. It has to be willing, and it has to be immediate. We essentially have to push our strength into the person we’re healing. This theory isn’t likely correct.”

  “Unless the one offering up blood also understands how to tap into our shamanic heritage.” Izzy smirks. “Then my theory is spot on and you’re wrong.”

  “Do you have proof of this claim?” Kade demands.

  “Yes.” Izzy’s pleasure is unmistakable. She’s enjoying messing with our alpha. “Living among the scum of the city gives me insight into what’s happening. People talk. I listen. Sometimes I act. Today’s one of those days. Hard not to when human Elixir addicts are calling this new version a miracle drug and looking at these dealers as their gods. That’s too much attention directed at shifter activ
ities and this new non-rotting drug.”

  “Officially, regular Elixir users die from organ shutdown,” Lyla cuts in, all businesslike in her posture and tone. “Human medicine doesn’t recognize something as obscure as rotting while still alive. That’s all fictional stuff to them. Organ failure is something they understand.”

  “But you know more, don’t you?” Izzy asks the question without looking at Lyla.

  “Yes. I’ve been trained to consider both human physique and shifter genetics in my diagnoses. Many who specialize in shifter medicine don’t consider both, and honestly, I don’t understand why they ignore the fact that physically, a shifter’s body in his human form is identical to a regular human. There’s no indication of claws, no fangs, no chemical in their body to explain their advanced healing. Nothing. There’s nothing that explains why you’re immortal and I’m not.”

  “Sure there is.” Kade’s tone draws my attention to him. His reflective expression lends him a predator’s focus, and it’s directed at Izzy, not Lyla. “Magic.”

  Izzy nods. “A magic all shifters possess but only a few can access and fewer still can control.”

  “Yes.” Kade returns Izzy’s nod. “The first Alexander’s father could control it. That ability is what landed him in the heavens.”

  “And made him incredibly tempting to our goddess, so tempting, she cheated on her mate and got herself knocked up.” Izzy laughs. “Of course, him being the hot stud he must’ve been sealed his fate and got him kicked out of the heavens.”

  “Along with the rest of the human shamans who impregnated goddesses.” Kade’s pleased smile is no doubt for Izzy’s knowledge of our history.

  Izzy tucks a leg under her and turns to Kade. “But what about the shamans who didn’t get the boot? What happened to them? Do you know? Bryon doesn’t. He just knew they didn’t come back with the others.”