by Tricia Owens
I forced myself to think of other things, just in case they could read minds. I doubted it, otherwise my mom wouldn't have been able to trick them for three years, but you never really knew with these creepy weirdos. Safer to think of my softest blanket back home, and what I had wrapped carefully in it eight hours ago.
"You did well," the saccharine voice said at last.
Delayed reaction hit me like a mallet. Holy cow, they bought it. My knees were weak. If I'd been wearing shorts it would have been obvious that my legs were shaking.
"I held up my end of the deal," I said, glad my voice was steady. "You'll leave Vale and the rest of my friends alone."
"While you remain a friend of the Oddsmakers, the Oddsmakers will remain a friend of Anne Moody."
Hardly a promise to embrace. Sort of like receiving a friend request from Vladimir Putin, but I'd take it for now.
"I want to go home," I said. Though just a second ago the badassness had been strong in me, it was now rapidly draining from me like hair dye, revealing my graying roots.
When I'd returned to my body, which had been lying on the floor of the secret meeting place beneath the Runaways, it was to find the canary shifter watching over me. All the other members of the Rebellion had fled. Like the Oddsmakers, they were now convinced that I was a traitor to my own kind. Mission accomplished, I guess.
She hadn't said a word about my decision to spare her life and go full dragon. I didn't know if she was disappointed that I hadn't sent her to the other side to join Kleure or if she was relieved that she now lived to fight another day.
When I'd left her, I'd done so without knowing her name. I regretted that now, but at the time I hadn't been thinking all that clearly.
"We will call upon you when we require your services again, Anne Moody."
"Great." I saluted the ceiling of the Oddsmakers' lair. "Can't wait for that call."
I didn't expect a thank you and I didn't get one. The room grew colder and darker. A brick smashed into my head and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor of my kitchenette.
I really needed to get out of the habit of waking up on the floor.
A body hurtled toward me and dropped to its knees beside me.
"Moody!" Vale hauled me up against him like I was a ragdoll made of cotton. He all but cracked my ribs. I loved every second of it.
"I don't know," I gasped out as emotion suddenly swamped me. "I don't know if I did what I wanted to. I couldn't tell. I was in the dragon—it sees things differently."
Vale held me away from him so our eyes could meet. "You did what the Oddsmakers demanded of you," he said, his fingers tightening around my upper arms. Though his words were dire, his face told me a different story. I let my eyes slide shut with relief.
"Tit for tat," I whispered against his ear when he hugged me close again. Vale was an excellent hugger. All those hard muscles, that heat—you'd think he'd be as comfortable as hugging an oven. But by some trick of magick his body cradled mine like the softest, most awesomest bean bag chair. I didn't care about eating or sleeping. I only wanted to be held by him.
"What does that mean?" he whispered back. "Tit for tat?"
"Your memory stain of that night. No one could see..." I couldn't say more for fear of pixies overhearing, but Vale was intelligent, and maybe he'd talked with Xaran about what had gone down tonight.
"Tit for tat, indeed." I heard the pride in his voice. He pulled back again, but only far enough to fit his mouth over mine. "I wish you hadn't done that alone," he whispered between feverish kisses that sought to turn me into a puddle right there in the kitchenette. "I wanted to be there with you. To help you find a solution."
"You were. You did." I carded my fingers through his deliciously tousled hair, hair I'd fought to return to. I broke our kiss, needing his full attention. "I-I want you to know something, Vale Morgan."
Curses and fate be damned. Not every chick flick ended up a tearjerker.
He caressed my cheek. "I already know, Anne Moody. I love you, too."
And there it was. Maybe the world would end, but hopefully not before I got some action.
He leaned over me, his dark eyes burning with possession. "You did it, Moody."
"They trust me," I whispered. I laughed, incredulous. "The cameos told me there'd be a betrayal and I thought it would happen against me. But it's me. I'm the betrayer."
"For the right reasons," he murmured.
"You know what else they told me?" I stroked his nape. "That you'd be trouble for me."
Vale's grin was wicked. "The kind of trouble you like, I hope."
I slid my hand down his spine. "I like a lot of things about you."
"Let me show you a few more things to like." His voice was rough and sexy, making me shiver. But the arms he curled beneath me to lift me off the floor were gentle and revealed how achingly protective he felt toward me.
My parents would have adored him.
They would have been proud of me tonight.
Neither of those things, however, were now possible. But one day, eventually, my parents would rest in peace, because I would find vengeance for all of us. And if the anticipation of that moment added a touch of spice to my lovemaking with Vale, well, that was just an unexpected bonus.
Author's Note
I took quite a few liberties with the anatomy of the Stratosphere to make it the perfect location for an assignation between Anne and Vale. As much as I would love it, I doubt any magickal creatures would be capable of living there without notice.
Or is that what they want us to believe?
Forged in Fire
Moonlight Dragon
Book 4
Chapter 1
"Hey, dragon—bite this!"
When the guy threw the contents of his cup at me, I figured the chances were fair it was either Budweiser or gasoline. Though they tasted pretty much the same in my opinion, only one of them was meant to set me on fire.
If I called up my magickal familiar, a Chinese dragon I named Lucky, then it was bonfire time and I'd be in for a world of hurt. But that was where my attacker went wrong. He'd assumed that my sorcery only came out in the form of a fire-breather.
Shame on him for not thinking outside the box.
I called up Lucky as a blast of wind that slapped all that flying liquid right back in the guy's face. He screamed and two ridged, curving horns burst from his temples. Fortunately, he still had the presence of mind to fling his hands up to cover the horns until he could transform them away.
"A goat shifter," I drawled upon seeing them. "Of course that's what you are."
He blinked madly against the liquid dripping down his face. Since he wasn't screaming in pain, I took it to mean that he'd doused himself in Bud. Still a pretty miserable experience.
"Shut your mouth," he gritted out. "I'm a satyr!"
"That may be what you tell the ladies, but you and I both know you're just an average goat."
"I'm a satyr!"
"Uh huh. Baaaah."
Red-faced, still covering his horns, the guy shoved his way through the crowd, trailing curious looks. Those looks turned to me for an explanation but I just shrugged like I had no idea what had just happened. I wish that were true, but I knew better. I was now Public Enemy Number One amongst the magickal community of Las Vegas. Life from now on was apparently going to suck.
Up until then, the night had been going pretty well. My friends and I were at First Friday, the arts festival held in the streets of downtown Las Vegas the first weekend of every month. I'd closed Moonlight Pawn to attend the festival because I was a terrible shopkeeper. I used the excuse that if I saw some cool painting or a funky statue for sale I'd buy it and either re-sell it at Moonlight or use it to draw in foot traffic from Fremont Street.
My friends had all nodded, but none of them had bought it. They'd all guessed, correctly, that I wanted to pig out at the food trucks and drink some beer (preferably craft and not Bud). However, I also wanted a chance t
o let go with my friends after everything that had happened with Xaran and the Oddsmakers. I was feeling particularly possessive and protective of them ever since the Oddsmakers threatened to torture and kill them.
Thanks to goat-boy, unfortunately, I now had proof that the Oddsmakers weren't my only problem.
"Maybe this was a mistake," I murmured to Vale as depression tried to seize hold of me.
"You have the right to be here," he told me calmly, simply, like no other truth existed.
Vale could be about absolutes. You looked at him and you sort of stared because he radiated intensity, but there was much more to him than that. I didn't know if it was because he was a gargoyle who transformed into a stone statue during the daylight hours, but there was a weight to him and everything that he said. He was something immovable that I trusted and which I could cling to when I felt on the verge of being swept away by stress or my emotions. Like now.
"People think I killed your brother on the Oddsmakers' orders," I argued, though I did so tiredly, because this was a subject I lived with twenty-four hours a day and it never grew any easier even though Xaran was alive and in hiding. "They all hate me. Why provoke them by showing my face in public?"
"Why provoke them by simply existing? That's hardly fair to you, Moody."
"If I were in their shoes, I'd hate me, too. No one likes a traitor."
"That may be true." Vale's breath was warm against my ear. "But one day you'll prove yourself their hero. You can hold out until then. The people who matter to you know the truth."
I wasn't interested in being a hero—I hadn't done anything with that in mind—but I clutched Vale's words because I had to. It was that or barricade myself in Moonlight and slide money beneath the door whenever Dominos dropped off pizzas.
"Thank you," I murmured back. I found his hand and squeezed it, though a part of me worried that I was drawing attention to him and making him a target, too. But that was stupid. Those who knew I was Anne Moody knew I was with Vale. They hated him and called him a traitor, too. Worse, they believed he'd shacked up with his brother's killer. When I thought about it that way, he endured more scorn than I did, and yet he never let the pressure of it show.
Time to get a grip and stop feeling sorry for yourself.
I swung our hands between us like we were little kids. "I have every right to be here and raise my cholesterol level and damage my liver just like everyone else."
He smirked. "There you go."
"Anne!"
My best friend Melanie didn't know how to be discreet, so her yelling my name through the crowd and alerting everyone I was there was just her being her. I cringed but quickly pulled back my shoulders. No one was going to make me afraid or ashamed. Especially since I hadn't actually done anything bad.
I saw Melanie's blue hair a moment before she broke through to reach Vale and me.
"Anne, someone's getting beat up!"
I tensed. "Why are you telling me?" It was a lousy response, but I genuinely feared digging my hole any deeper than it already was. I couldn't keep sticking my nose into other peoples' business.
"I think he's a shifter!"
I groaned. It wasn't like I was going to ignore this even if the victim wasn't a member of the magickal community, but this just ensured I'd end up butting heads with the exact same people I was trying to ignore in order to have a nice evening out.
"Where?" Vale demanded.
Melanie pointed ahead of us. "In an alley. I saw it happening as I was coming back."
"Alright." There was no ignoring this. "Where's Christian?"
"In line getting us macaroni and cheese on a stick!" Melanie wrung her hands. "He's going to lose his place and I sooo wanted to try those, but—fight! Ack!"
"Macaroni and cheese on a stick? Your boyfriend is trying to kill you, Melly. It's better if you stop him before he succeeds."
"Okay, I'll go grab him!"
She darted off, weaving through the crowd easily because she was small and, though on the chubbier side, still maintained some of the characteristics of her monkey shifter form even as a human.
"This is not good," I said to Vale. "Fights attract attention." I rubbed at the goose bumps that had jumped onto my skin despite the warm Vegas night air. "If people are taking photos, that's one thing. No one believes anything that's posted on the internet anymore. But if the cops intervene..."
"It can't happen." His dark-haired head turned on a swivel, as if searching for signs of law enforcement or worse, the government. "Let's go see what's happening."
He led the way through the crowd, pulling me along with him so I wouldn't be subjected to any more cheap shots. As we weaved through the crowd, I thought I heard someone say, "Monster."
It wasn't directed at me. The girl who'd said it, an Asian girl, wasn't looking at me but at her two male friends, who were studying a phone. She and they looked perplexed, like they were questioning themselves. That just spelled trouble in my book.
"People have seen!" I hissed to Vale.
He just shook his head, unwilling to comment until we'd reached the scene.
Vale could be annoyingly mellow. He'd seen and lived through so much crap that not much could ruffle his feathers anymore. I liked that about him. It kept me from freaking out too much. But sometimes you needed someone to wig out with. So you didn't feel like you were alone in your inability to cope.
I hoped Melanie had been wrong and witnessed just an ordinary scuffle between ordinary people. But the fact that she'd said shifter meant she'd seen some fur or hair or a tail. Three people talking about a monster added fuel to the fire. People could see all sorts of things and come to the wrong conclusion. There were entire communities built around that very phenomenon. But the word "monster" being used sent up red flags in my book.
Monsters weren't supposed to exist in Las Vegas. Not real ones. But they did, along with a whole host of other magickal beings such as shapeshifters, warlocks, sorcerers, water fey, and more. Crack open a book of fairy tales and you had a pretty good idea of what was lurking throughout the city. For the most part, we all lived together in relative harmony. Murders and battles occurred every once in a while, I assumed. No one really knew the details of that because the Oddsmakers always swept in and cleaned up the messes like they never even happened.
Some said it was good that the Oddsmakers were around to ensure that our community remained a secret. But I wasn't one of them. Just the thought of them had me grinding my teeth and wanting to blast something with my dragon. However, there was one thing I'd learned about them recently that did lift my spirits.
The Oddsmakers didn't know jack.
They weren't omniscient, god-like beings as many of us had feared, otherwise they would have seen through my ruse out in the desert. They would have known that Xaran had survived a fiery death and that he hadn't done it by accident. And they also would have known that I'd lied about it right to their disembodied faces.
But they didn't know. They used pixies and other spies to ferret out their information, maybe some other supernatural eyeballs, but that was it. That boast about seeing and knowing everything that occurred in Vegas? Yeah, nothing but a bunch of baloney.
And I couldn't be happier about it. If I could keep secrets from them, that meant I could gain an advantage over them.
The festival was packed, with tents selling artwork, food, music, and clothing lining either side of the street and tons of people milling around them. The air smelled of a variety of meats thanks to the food trucks, along with cigarette smoke and the occasional whiff of marijuana and incense.
Melanie called out and I raised my hand so she could see us and catch up. I couldn't linger to wait for her; Vale tugged me along with rising urgency. He had great hearing, so he must have picked up the sounds of the fight.
He pulled me between two vendor booths, along behind a third, and then into an alley. At the other end of it, where it intersected another alley, two people kneeled over a third figure that was spraw
led on the ground.
"Hey!" I yelled.
The two people didn't look back; they bolted to the right. Vale and I sprinted down the alley, but by the time we reached the victim, his attackers had vanished.
I groaned when I saw the condition of the victim. It was definitely a shapeshifter. He had either been in the midst of transformation or had been one of those shifters I'd seen in the Keyhole speakeasy who got a kick out of walking around in mid-shift. He still had grayish-brown wolf ears sprouting from the top of his head and thick fur covered his back and shoulders and ran down both arms. The rest of him was naked and human. I didn't see any injuries, but his gray eyes were open and sightless.
"We're too late," I said, devastated. Fury filled me. I started in the direction that his attackers had gone, thinking I might use Lucky to catch them, but Vale grabbed my arm.
"Later, Moody. We have a greater concern."
I spun when I heard the sound of running feet, but it was only Christian and Melanie catching up to us.
"It's a good thing we're here," Christian declared with a shake of the head when he saw the body. "If the police had gotten hold of this—"
"They still might if we don't get it out of here," I muttered. We had to keep this body out of the hands of authorities at all costs.
Something caught my eye, prompting me to squat beside the body. The shifter lay on his side with his arms curled up in front of him like he'd been about to go to sleep. Both hands were clawed, and in the left lay the thing that had caught my attention. I reached down and delicately plucked the folded piece of paper from within the frozen grasp. When I unfolded it, I saw that it was a handwritten note.
"'Anne Moody'," I read aloud. I shook my head with disgust. "Why is it that guys aren't interested in you until you have a boyfriend?"