by Amy Sumida
I didn't justify his comment about my heartbeat with an answer. But, for the record, I still wasn't afraid of him. Knowledge was power, but it was the sort I was accustomed to facing. I had my own arsenal, and I intended on discovering even more about the Faulin real soon.
Cyprian frowned. He set his fork down. Irritation colored his aura a spicy cayenne.
“That was the one thing I couldn't discover,” he admitted. “Although, I have my guesses.”
“Go on then.” I smiled encouragingly. “Who do you think I'm after? I'll tell you if you're right.”
Cyprian tsked me before taking another sip of coffee. “You're as tricky as any Faulin lady.”
I was about to tell him to take a hike if he didn't have anything helpful to say when a scream jerked my attention out the window. Across the street, a creature was bolting through the crowds. This one was furry; moving like an ape on its knuckles and feet. But it wasn't an ape; it had horns coming out of its head and patches of red scales on its hide. It roared; a sound of anguish and confusion.
I grabbed my phone, tossed some cash on the table, and ran out the door; fumbling with my tranquilizer gun as I went. It was already loaded; all I'd have to do was aim and pull the trigger. Cyprian was slower to follow; spending more time gaping at the monster than I had. But he did follow me; right across the street and down an alley after the creature.
The alley ended in a cement wall, and the creature bellowed in frustration—the sound echoing stridently off the stone—before it turned and charged back out. But I was standing in the alley entrance by then; my feet in a steady stance and my hands stretched out to hold the gun before me. It wasn't getting past me. At that range, I was guaranteed a hit.
“What in all the fucking worlds is that?” Cyprian whispered.
Then he saw what I was doing and came toward me; no doubt thinking to play the hero and snatch me out of the way.
“Stay away from me, Cyprian,” I said coolly. “I'm handling it.”
I had already locked onto the creature's aura and sent some calming amethyst into it. It slowed down to a hesitant walk but didn't fall asleep as I'd expected. Stronger even than a Faulin; how interesting. Not a problem; I had the tranquilizers to do the rest. But before I could pull the trigger, a man manifested before me and waved his hand at the sleepy monster. Ice encased the creature's legs and torso, and it woke violently; pummeling at the freezing restriction as it roared.
“Hey!” I shouted. “I nearly had it asleep!”
The man looked over his shoulder at me; startled by my voice. Our eyes met, and we both went still. His eyes were two distinct shades of blue; a deep sapphire base with radiating spokes of teal. Both colors shimmered as if flecked with metal. I'd never seen eyes like that; not even on a supe. His skin was the soft, tawny brown of a lion's pelt; perhaps a shade paler. Rich auburn hair with golden highlights complemented his skin; pulled back in a severe braid bound with leather. His face was exotic looking, but I couldn't place what type of alien race he was. And I was certain he was an alien because I'd seen features like his before... on the Aura Man.
This man didn't have an aura as strong as the other but it was similar in vibrancy and the way it sparkled. The colors actually seemed to be faceted; catching the light like jewels. Which was utterly impossible; auras simply don't do that. They're not physical enough to do that. His gaze roamed down my body and up again; his lips twitching in approval before he turned back to the creature. I didn't begrudge him the look; I was doing a fair amount of looking myself. He had on a padded, velvet tunic sewn with intricate designs and a leather vest strapped over it. It didn't allow much of his body to show through, but the V at the neck gave glimpses of a muscular chest and the forearms peeking out of his sleeves were corded and thick. When he turned away from me, he gave me a wonderful view of a perfectly curved ass and lean legs; shown off in snug, leather pants. His leather pants weren't anything like Cyprian's had been; more warrior than womanizer. I liked them far better.
Before I could say another word, the stranger with the beautiful eyes and warrior leathers lifted a large, curved knife and slit the creature's throat. It happened so fast that the monster didn't have a chance to defend itself, and I didn't have a chance to protest. It was dead in thirty seconds, and then it was gone; along with the strange man.
“That son of a bitch!” Cyprian growled in a low, furious tone.
I turned to ask Cyprian what he knew about the monster and the man who had killed it, but he was already striding down the street. I chased after him, but he had a head start and was soon in his car—a sleek, black Aston Martin—and speeding away.
“That son of a bitch,” I repeated his sentiments.
Chapter Nineteen
I didn't tell Malik about Cyprian. I felt guilty about that, but I was planning on paying the Faulin a visit, and I didn't want Malik joining me. That sounds even worse, doesn't it? But I knew that if I took Malik with me, he would only antagonize Cyprian, and we wouldn't get anything out of him. No; this was a job for Spectra alone.
So, after I reported in about the creature and the mysterious hunter who killed it, I didn't go back to the Supemarket. Instead, I headed to Dirty Nothings. I didn't see any surveillance when I got out of the cab, but I was certain someone was watching. Connolly said they were watching the club, and the Department of Homeland Security knew how to watch without being seen. But I'd already told Connolly where I was headed and why. The agents watching were probably expecting me.
The doorman of Dirty Nothings let me in without checking my membership card this time; he just smiled and held the door for me. I went straight to the hostess and asked to see Cyprian. Her eyes widened as she looked me over; finally settling her gaze on mine. Right; that whole search the other day. That wasn't something Cyprian's employees would soon forget.
“Do my eyes remind you of Summer violets?” I asked her with a smile.
Her eyes widened. “Let me see if he's available,” she said breathlessly.
“I'll just wait over here.” I waved my hand at a velvet, padded chair near a potted palm. It was the only seat in the entry. I suppose they didn't expect people to be waiting there.
But I did wait. Cyprian kept me waiting for fifteen minutes. I was just contemplating leaving when he strode into the room from a door on my left; not the public club entrance across from me. Cyprian already had his sexy mask on to go with his sexy clothes. He'd kept the jeans but lost the sweater in exchange for a long-sleeved, black, gauze shirt that made his sleek muscles seem larger. The curved neckline accented the thick column of his throat and the shadows in the material lured the eye to look again. In public, he would have looked like a stripper, but in Dirty Nothings, he looked elegant and understated.
“Amara, my amethyst-eyed goddess, what a pleasant surprise,” Cyprian purred as he sauntered over to me.
I stood up and grimaced at him. “Darling, please; let's not play. You knew I'd show up after you ran away from me like a little girl.”
The hostess choked back a horrified sound and when Cyprian glared at her, she actually ducked behind her station to hide.
“I did not run away from you,” he corrected. “I would never do that. Toward you perhaps, but not away. I was late for a meeting.”
“A meeting with the man who has similar features to the hunter in that alley?”
Cyprian went still and then he smiled. “So, he is who you're after.”
I shrugged.
“Come with me.” Cyprian held out a hand.
I stared at it for a second before I took it. Cyprian tucked my hand around his arm and led me to the door he'd emerged from. There was a panel beside it like the one he had outside the security room upstairs. He punched the buttons rapidly, but I was certain it was the same code as the other lock. So sloppy. I expected better from him.
The door snicked open, and Cyprian led me through. I absently noted how soft the material of his shirt was as we walked down a narrow hallway. His scent swir
led around me, dark and intoxicating like oud and ambergris. Everything about him was made to seduce. I couldn't help noticing but it all left me feeling a little hoodwinked. Malik was right; Faulin were tricky, and their allure was the greatest of their tricks. It was all a clever deception—from the way they smelled to the way they moved—and I found myself breathing through my mouth to alleviate some of the duplicity. I preferred an honest appeal; something real that would last past the final cries of passion. I had a feeling that Cyprian's ardor would quickly cool after he bedded me. It was a game, after all. Winning means that the game is over; time to pack it up and put it back in the closet.
There was an elevator at the end of the hallway; a smaller version of the other one in the bar. It opened immediately when Cyprian pressed the button, and we took it up to the third floor in silence.
“Does your lover know you're here?” Cyprian asked casually as the elevator door slid open.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Liar,” he called me on it.
I didn't dispute it. What would be the point?
We stepped out into a hallway, and I realized that we were in his private suite. I nodded in approval; it was smart to have multiple exits. We passed by his BDSM room and went into a modern living room. The walls were dark gray and the curtains—which were open to showcase a gorgeous view of downtown D.C.—were bronze. Charcoal-stained wood paneled the floor with a dove gray carpet over sections of it. Two chairs were set before the enormous window; sleek, silver upholstery over their curved backs. They were those chairs that look as if they'd been cut from a column.
Further in the room, there was a fireplace with bronze stone surrounding it and a glass deer head hung above it. The head was lit by a light above it; making it glow. In front of the fire was a collection of four, square ottomans done in black leather with a silver tray set across them. The ottomans were pushed together to form a larger square. A storm-cloud velvet sofa with sheepskin pillows and a silver leather bench completed the room. It oozed refined, masculine taste and money. Lots of money.
Cyprian strolled to the silver tray on the ottomans and poured us drinks from the crystal decanter set there. He waved me toward the sofa, but I took one of the chairs near the window instead. Cyprian chuckled as he joined me—taking the chair across from mine—and then handed me a glass. It was a cognac glass so I assumed that was what it contained.
It was not.
A sweet and smoky flavor rolled over my tongue and set my mouth to tingling. I sighed in appreciation and took a deep sniff. The aroma was vanilla, peppercorns, and something I couldn't place. I'd never tasted anything like it, and I'd been raised in a supe bar.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It's called Brule; my people make it.”
“Lovely,” I murmured.
“Indeed,” Cyprian said with his gaze on me. “You're seeking an acquaintance of mine. Why?”
“I think you know why,” I countered. “You seem to know everything about me. But I know nearly nothing about you... or your friend.”
“I never called him a friend.”
I lifted a brow.
“He's an associate,” Cyprian said.
“And the man who killed that creature today? Is he an associate as well?”
“I've never seen that man before in my life,” he said simply.
I stared at him. Cyprian stared back. I was inclined to believe him.
“Then why did his appearance anger you?” I asked.
“Because I was promised that there wouldn't be more of his kind here. At least, not for awhile.”
“You've made a bargain with the Aura Man?” I asked in surprise.
“Aura Man?” Cyprian lifted a pale brow.
“Your associate,” I explained. “He has a striking aura; very strong. I started calling him the Aura Man since I don't know his name.”
“Ah.”
“But you could tell me his name and then I could call him that instead.”
Cyprian smiled devilishly. “I'll trade it for a kiss.”
“I'm not kissing you, Cyprian,” I said sternly. “I'm not touching you or biting you or doing anything else to your body unless it's slapping you for touching me. Let's just get that clear right now. I'm not interested. You're very attractive, but you're not my type. Okay? Can we move on?”
“I'm not your type?” He blinked at me. “Amara, I'm every woman's type.”
“That's not possible.” I rolled my eyes. “Women have different tastes.”
“I assure you, it is possible,” he said arrogantly.
“And I assure you; it isn't,” I insisted. “My disinterest is the proof. I like men with more”—I waved my hands—“blatant masculinity.”
“I'm not masculine enough for you?” Cyprian gaped at me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He waved at the muscles displayed by his shirt. “How much more man do you need?”
“I can't believe I'm having this conversation,” I huffed. “What's your problem? I'm not saying you're ugly; just that I don't want you.”
“Oh, Amara, that's another lie.” Cyprian smiled. “I'm very good at reading women. I know when one is aroused, and I've seen you aroused so I'm especially familiar with your tells.”
“That arousal was for Malik.”
“Not all of it was.”
“All right.” I waved my hand. “You've managed to inspire a few reactions, but arousal doesn't equate to interest. I can be turned on by watching people have sex but it doesn't mean that I want to join them. To be completely honest with you, Cyprian, you're too sexual for me. All of this feels dishonest, and I abhor dishonesty.”
Cyprian pursed his lips; irritation flaring through his aura again. He knew it was true because it was true. I didn't want to sleep with him. He was hot—viciously attractive—but he was also arrogant and irritating. And then there was the fact that I was in love with Malik. No; Cyprian could never compete with Malik.
“Then it seems that you have nothing to bargain with,” Cyprian said in the tone I'd overheard him using when he was ordering his people to search for me.
“Ah; there you are.” I smirked. “Finally, some honesty.”
“Excuse me?” His voice was deeper without the sexy purr; more striking, in my opinion.
“You; the real Cyprian.” I waved at him. “I was wondering if you'd ever make an appearance.”
Cyprian smiled slowly and a new respect entered his eyes. “Life is but a show,” he said with a dramatic bow of his head and a sweep of his arm.
“I could have DHS agents searching your show from top to bottom in twenty minutes.”
Cyprian's smiled faded. “Oh, little girl, do not threaten me.”
“That's not a threat, darling,” I said sweetly. “That was a warning. I never threaten. If I want to hurt someone, I just go for the jugular.”
I reached into his aura and shifted the inky strength that had been creeping over him into the sapphire hue of honesty. He had shown me a little and now, I wanted more. Cyprian shuddered as his eyes widened.
“Now, Cyprian, tell me your associate's name.”
Cyprian's teeth clenched together and his eyes narrowed. I poured more blue over him. I'd never used my power as a truth serum before—this was more Jason's thing—but I knew it could be done. Instinctively, I just knew. However, I wasn't sure if it could be done to Cyprian.
“He calls himself the Leech,” Cyprian ground out.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he snarled and shook his head. The blue shattered and flung off his aura like scattered water droplets. Cyprian shot forward and wrestled me to the floor. My heart raced as I tried to calm him with waves of amethyst. It wasn't working. His aura was turning completely red; pure lust. The emotion was strong enough to act as a shield; bouncing the sleepy amethyst off it.
Cyprian was protecting himself with the lust he'd taken from humans!
“I hate it when people try to manipulate me, darling,” Cyprian purred in my face.
/> “You tried to manipulate me first,” I shot back.
Cyprian went still.
“The first time I met you, you tried to feed off me,” I reminded him. “You made the rules, Cyprian; I was merely playing by them.”
His lithe body pressed against mine; his chest pushing down with each angry breath. Constricting and caressing. Cyprian looked over my face and then captured my gaze. He lowered his lips slowly to mine.
“If you do not remove your person from me this instant, I shall resort to less ladylike methods of dislodging you,” I announced in a deadly voice.
Cyprian's eyes widened and then he threw back his head and laughed boisterously. He rolled off me as he did and then laid beside me; staring up at the coffered ceiling as he shook his head in wonder.