A taxi glided to a halt, and she hastily climbed in before Aza saw her. Inhaling a thankful breath, she settled back in her seat and scratched her left wrist. She pushed her silver bracelets aside and frowned at the redness covering the small tattoo there—an intricate series of knots with one side open. Ugh, she hoped she wasn’t getting a rash on it.
Her cell beeped with a text. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket. Ash.
You coming to the club, doll?
She bit her lip then typed back. On my way.
Great. See you soon.
Ashton Stiles was not only her friend but also an amazing guitarist and the frontman for RockinHell. The demons living in this world probably got a kick out of the name. Harvey sure did.
A while later, Shae hurried down the alley toward the warehouse that had been converted to a nightclub. Stopping in front of the graffitied back entrance to Club Nocte, an unsettling awareness crawled through her, like she should recall something about this place.
Warily, she rubbed her neck and studied the alley. A shiver darted along her spine. She banged the heavy, metal door, and a tattooed bouncer opened up and waved her inside.
Avoiding the groupies hanging out in the corridor near the backstage area, she made her way into the noisy club instead, still a little uneasy. And at the sudden blast of music, she stumbled into two guys.
“Hey, beautiful.” One smiled drunkenly. The other one’s gaze rested on her cheek. “Dang, girl, that thing sure ruins the look.”
Asshole. Instantly, her hand went up to block the scar on her face. Oh, she was aware of it, and it hurt when she smiled or when some dickhead spewed out shit like that. Uncle Lem had said she could get it fixed with a good plastic surgeon, but she’d refused—not until she found her mother. The scar her reminder of what she was responsible for.
Smoothing her long, wavy hair over her cheek, she texted Ash, I’m at the bar, need a drink.
And got an immediate response. See you in a few.
Ash’s band usually played the second half of the night so he had time. Shae pushed through the throng of people, squeezed in between a heavyset man and another guy, and ordered her drink. The moment she got her vodka tonic, she gulped back some of the fiery liquor, the burn soothing her a little, and watched for Ash.
She’d met him six years ago during his short stint at University, and they’d become fast friends. For a moment, she’d thought he liked her, too. But that had just been her imagination. Considering his notoriety when it came to women, it was probably for the best. So she’d shut away those feelings and moved on. She’d dated, but her one serious relationship had ended a year ago.
Then, all the craziness started. With the constant heat swirling inside her—and her mother taking off—socializing had been the last thing on her mind…except for those few dates she’d had with Aza.
Shae took another sip of her drink. As her sight adjusted to the flashing laser light, a man half hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit seating area adjacent to her caught her attention.
So tall, with his arms folded over his chest, he surveyed the dance floor, his face barely visible. The people around him gave him a wide berth where he stood near the steel railings, probably at the perilous air he seemed to exude.
As if sensing her stare, his head turned, and he went utterly still. Goosebumps spilled across her skin. Hastily, Shae shielded behind a bulky guy and his girlfriend walking past, her heart thudding rapidly. How she knew he was looking at her, she had no idea.
Ugh, with all the madness she’d had to deal with recently, she was probably overreacting. She’d never seen him before. He had to be looking at someone behind her.
Her head buzzed. She set her glass down and rubbed her temples. Hazy images that’d haunted her sleep last night resurfaced, seeping through her mind. A blurred face…lips kissing her throat. Heat flowed through her body, desire awakening—noooo!
The air in the club drained. Her lungs shut down. Unable to breathe, she shoved and pushed her way through the crush of bodies, desperate to get to the entrance before she passed out.
After what seemed like forever, she stumbled into the cool night. Some distance away from the congested entrance, she slowed down and pressed her back against the grimy wall, desperately inhaling the rancid air. Havta calm down, havta calm down…
A scrawny cat hissed, darting past her, almost yanking her heart out of her throat. Jesus! She rubbed a hand over her face then popped a strawberry Dextrose into her mouth. She retrieved her cell from her pocket to text Ash that she was leaving, only to stop and stare at her hands. In the moonlight, her pale skin appeared chalk-white. No wonder people thought her fragile, breakable. That was their first mistake.
“Dammit, Shae, you don’t go taking off like rabid dogs are after you and scaring me,” Ash groused, stomping up to her, his lean face creased in worry. “It’s not safe out here. Didn’t you hear me yell after you? And aren’t you staying for the show?”
Meeting his concerned gaze, she realized then that it wasn’t Ash’s fault but hers for prolonging this insanity—for meeting up whenever he called. She settled for, “I was, but Harvey wants to see me. Go back to your fans, Ash. I’m leaving.”
His lips tightened briefly. He didn’t like Harvey, which she didn’t get. It wasn’t like he knew what Harvey was or that Others inhabited this world, too. “Fine. Let me call you a cab at least—”
“Yo, Ash,” one of the band members yelled. “The manager wants to speak to you.”
He glanced in the direction of the club’s back entrance and cursed under his breath. “Give me a minute, okay?” He hustled off.
Shae sagged against the building. God, she needed a break, a moment of peace. No buzzing heat in her mind, move past Ash and find a way to locate her mother.
It wasn’t such a tall order, was it? She slid her eyes heavenward to the night sky. No answer there. Guess she was all on her own, then. Pushing away from the wall, she took a step toward the main street and froze at the tall, dark figure heading her way.
Him.
The man from the club.
Instinctively, she shrank back into the shadows. It wasn’t as if he were even aware of her, just because she was of him. Her cell rang. Harvey. “Hey.”
“You didn’t call back?”
“I’m sorry, things got a little hectic.”
“No problem. I’m guessing you’re at Club Nocte. Be there in ten minutes. We can catch some of RockinHell, and then do the summoning at midnight.”
Shae rubbed her shaky palm down her short skirt, her mind all over the place, too rattled to think clearly. “I want to more than anything, but it’s been an exhausting day. Work and other stuff, you know”—like strange dreams of a man kissing her throat—“Tomorrow night would be better.”
“Okay. But I’m working tomorrow. I get off at eleven. How about I meet you at Club Nocte around 11:30?”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.” She ended the call. Looked up. “Dammit!” She jumped back, her heart crashing against her ribcage, her cell falling to the asphalt with a sharp clatter.
He stood right in front of her.
The urge to run grew. Instead, she scrambled after her phone. Thankfully, it had stayed together.
“A moment.”
At that low, accented voice, something inside her stirred awake. Muscular, leather-clad thighs filled her view as she straightened. Even with her five-foot-eleven height, the man towered over her. Her gaze trailed up, up, up. Dressed entirely in black, he appeared as if he belonged to the night.
Dark. Mysterious. And very, very dangerous, the realization seeped into her.
Stubble darkened his jaw. Inky hair woven into several ropey braids hung past his waist. But his sculptured features appeared as if cast in bronze, his expression about as readable as the same metal. Yet a raw sensuality etched every line of his cold, handsome face. His compelling magnetism slithered around her like a net slowly reeling her closer.
Ho
wever, the piercing stare of those cold, citrine eyes had her thoughts skidding back to reality. Yellow was supposed to be warm, but his were like frozen fire. Other.
Shae shifted back a step, her cell clutched tightly to her chest. Leave—get-out, the warning whopped around in her head. She’d never been one to disregard her sixth sense. Without speaking, she stepped around him but found him in her path. Crap!
Warily, she eyed him. Instinct warned her that he wouldn’t leave until he had whatever he’d come for. His nose flared slightly as if breathing her in?
“Shae?”
He knew her name? No, no! Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, it actually hurt.
She tended to avoid Others. Uncle Lem said it was safer because most usually came with a crap-load of trouble one could not avoid. Thank God she hadn’t told him about Aza.
“Who’s asking?”
“We need to talk.”
There was intent to compel behind those cool words. It pushed through her mental shields, urging her with gentle force to agree. Hurriedly, she tightened her mind’s defenses. She had to get out of there before Ash came looking for her and got caught in the crosshairs of whatever this was.
Shae tried to cut past him again but he moved so incredibly fast, blocking her way once more. Uneasiness crept into her. Demons could do that, Harvey had shown her so she’d be aware of what she was dealing with. But this man’s eyes didn’t possess any tinge of red.
“I don’t have time, my date will be here any second,” she lied.
“We can do this here, now, or the hard way.”
“Are you threatening me?” she snapped, despite fear crashing through her.
Those yellow eyes became slits of irritation, like he hadn’t expected her to…what? Fight back? She had so little control of what was happening in her life, she’d be damned if she allowed a stranger to take away her choices, too. She became then aware of how quiet the alley had become—just him and her—when he suddenly grabbed her, hauling her to him.
“What the hell?” She yanked at the arm holding her against a wall of rigid muscle and breathed in his warm, masculine scent…sandalwood with a hint of leather and cherry tobacco. Her blood warmed, and desire stirred, unsettling her—no. She fought harder, shoving at his chest.
“Stop.” The low, clipped order halted her struggles like nothing else did. He wasn’t looking at her, but appeared to be scanning the gloomy thoroughfare. Then she felt it, an eerie slide against her skin. Her stomach churned, the urge to flee tearing at her. Danger was closing in on them.
“Let go!” she cried, hitting and clawing like some wild animal. A sharp, whizzing sound echoed. The man spun her around, slamming her against the wall, and he jolted.
Shae gasped.
His furious gaze glowered like a living flame as they pinned hers. Pain shimmered in her mind. Then everything went dark.
Chapter 3
Dagan swept the difficult female he’d willed to sleep against him and scanned the alley again. There was no one else in the area except them. But the burning sensation in his back told him differently and had him gritting his teeth in annoyance.
His wound would heal as soon as he got the bullet out. But he needed the evidence and couldn’t do so now. Whoever had taken a shot at the girl had vanished. Yeah, it had been meant for her, because no one would dare shoot at him, not if they wanted to live.
Using his psychic senses, he tracked mentally…and picked up a fast-disappearing trail. He studied it, absorbing the acrid odor of sulfur and fear. Demon. Asshole probably hadn’t expected him to show up. He was going to enjoy the scourge’s death.
Dagan shifted Shae’s slight weight in his arm and picked up her fallen cell phone with his free hand.
Thudding footsteps broke the quiet. “What the hell are you doing?” a male barked. “Let her go!”
He straightened, recognizing the human as the one from last night, the one whom she’d been hugging, and cut him an impassive stare. The urge to wring the man’s neck for leaving her alone with a damn sniper after her took hold. If he hadn’t been hanging around this place, waiting for her, she’d be dead.
“I’m taking her with me.”
“You aren’t taking her anywhere!”
He didn’t have time for this pesky human’s interference. Dagan simply held the man’s gaze and took over his mind. “Go fuck up your life like you usually would” was his preferred directive, but Gaia would kick his ass for that. You’ve already seen her home. Now leave.
The guy’s belligerent expression vanishing, he ambled back to the club entrance. Women rushed him. He put his arm around a brunette’s waist and they disappeared inside.
Date? Right. Dagan glanced at the female in his arms and shook his head. Pushing her cell into his back pocket, he stepped deeper into the shadows, and with the castle in mind, he dematerialized them both there.
A few minutes later, he reformed on the portico, willed the massive front door open, and entered the foyer. About to head upstairs, Dagan paused. With her conflicting psychic vibrations, he changed direction and headed down the marble-tiled corridor to the stairs that led to the basement. The floors there gave way to plain, dark tiles and an unadorned passage leading to the training arena. The once painted walls were bare, gray stones again. Hedori had probably given up on maintaining the surfaces here. At times, their powers escaped, and it did some real damage despite the arcane magic protecting the place.
With a thought, Dagan retrieved a black exercise mat, dropped it against the wall, and laid her on it. This place was safest for now.
“If you’re the one I’m searching for,” he told her sleeping form, “I’m not surprised you have a hit on you.” He moved a swathe of silky hair away from her face, his fingertips brushing her cheek, and frowned at the rough, uneven, Y-shaped scar there. Slightly pink, it stood out on her pale skin. Had to be recent.
Hard to imagine a person this fragile could be a ruthless killer when she appeared to have more damages to herself. But then in his long life, and with all he’d seen, nothing much surprised him anymore.
He glanced at the colorful, wavy strands he’d been caressing between his fingertips, a blend of deep reds, light browns, and hints of gold. She stirred awake. He dropped his hand.
Feline-tipped eyes the color of brewing storm clouds with specks of sunlight blinked at him. She sat up and scrambled back. That stubborn chin rose, accusation flashing in her eyes. “What the hell did you do to me?”
Sent you to sleep and dematerialized with you. No, he didn’t think that would go over too well. He said instead, “You’re safe.”
“Safe—safe?” she snapped, her face a delectable shade of red. Then she glanced around the place, and her color drained. “You kidnapped me? Brought me here because I wouldn’t talk to you?”
“If you want to give it a label, then sure.”
She looked like she wanted to punch him again. Her soft mouth tightened. A deep inhale followed as if she were struggling for control.
No way could he leave a psionic, if she were one, on the loose. Shit would not just rain down on them but explode everywhere, and he definitely could do without that. He scanned her again and, despite her temper moments ago, he picked up nothing, just a slight hum of her psychic abilities that resonated though his psyche.
Hell, he’d rather she was psionic, then he could hand the wildcat over to Michael and be done with this deadly temptation. But he needed answers first.
“Those dead men in the alley last night. Tell me about them.”
* * *
Shae inhaled deeply, counted to ten, and prayed a madman hadn’t abducted her.
He remained hunkered down in front of her, eyes cool, his powerful forearms braced on his muscular, leather-clad thighs. Small scars marred his tanned fingers he kept loosely clasped in front of him. He wore a wide, corded leather band on one thick wrist and several narrow ones on his other. His black t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders like a second
skin, the short sleeves revealing bulging biceps. On his left one, he sported a sword-like tattoo made up of a myriad of intricate designs. It was unusual, like nothing she’d ever seen.
With those clothes and his long, ropey hair, he dressed like an extra from a movie shoot or something.
“You can’t keep me here,” she tried to reason with him. “You have to let me go. My uncle will be frantic and calling the cops by now.”
“Not until you answer my questions. Those dead men?”
She scowled, all thoughts of being calm and rational flying out the window. He’d accosted her outside the club, kidnapped her, and now he expected her to answer his damn questions? “Just what the hell are you talking about? What dead men?”
Sure, he was infuriatingly good-looking, but then so was Ted Bundy.
At the thought of the serial killer who’d charmed and murdered several college girls, Shae sprang to her feet and bulleted for the door. He grabbed her around the waist. Crap, she’d forgotten how fast he could move.
“Lemme go!” She hit him, but he merely swept her into his arms like she was some delicate freakin’ daisy and carried her back. Furious, she bit him. Hard. And hoped her teeth did some real damage to his biceps.
An annoyed grunt escaped him. “Stop that, you little hellcat.”
Like a bag of unwanted grain, he dropped her on her butt, back on the mat again.
Pain jarred up her spine, and she clenched her teeth. But the three angry, red streaks scored on his powerful forearm had her blinking.
She’d done that? Shocked to her core at her dreadful behavior, Shae opened her mouth to apologize but when she met those burning yellow eyes that had taken on hints of orange, a spurt of anger cut through her guilt. “This is kidnapping. I’m gonna have your barbaric ass thrown in jail!”
“Try. When you’re ready to talk, scream. Maybe I’ll hear you, maybe I won’t.” His eyes like flint, he stalked out, shutting the door quietly behind him, only to stride back inside. He crossed to the far end of the room, grabbed all the swords from the stand there, and walked out again. Leaving behind a small fridge. Right then, she wanted to fling the appliance at his arrogant head. Except he looked like he could break her neck with just one hand.
Guardian Unraveled: Fallen Guardians Page 4