“Of course.” She put a hand to her head. “Stupid.”
Draven stopped, his gaze sharp as he looked around them for a threat, then glanced down at her. “What do you see?”
“Something dangerous was in this hall, but when I heard a sound from outside, I assumed the threat came from out back.” She didn’t even stop to think that the danger might have been lurking in the bathroom the whole time, and she just waltzed right past.
Draven followed her line of sight to the bathroom. “I’ll check it out.”
“Don’t bother.” She dropped her hand, shaking her head in disgust. “Whatever was here is now gone.”
Kincade edged forward at their conversation. “Gone? Or just moved?”
Morgan closed her eyes, tilting her head as she struggled to recapture the ominous feeling, but whatever she sensed had faded too much for her to pick up again. “I’m not sure.”
“My guess is that whoever is doing the killing is still looking for prey.” Ascher glanced beyond them, studying the crowd as the pounding music lured more people out onto the dance floor.
“Why do you say that?” She followed his gaze, trying to pick up on what he sensed…what she’d missed.
“We didn’t find a body yet.” The practical answer came from Atlas.
“You’re sure?” Morgan glanced at him, uncertain how he was able to tell.
Atlas just nodded, and she resisted the urge to kick him when he didn’t elaborate. “How do you know?”
“The place is still full of paranormals.” Kincade replied, a smile playing around his lips, as if he knew the others were driving her insane with their evasive answers and he enjoyed seeing them annoy the snot out of her. “If someone was dead, they would be the first to disappear.”
“So whoever is doing the killing is still here.” Morgan much preferred a known enemy. She was a simple girl—go in, kill the bad guy, then get out. This searching for the killer among predators was bullshit.
“What’s wrong?” Atlas glanced at her, his dark green eyes scanning her, the burnt umber in them brightening, and she’d swear he was almost concerned. It was the dark elf in him peeking out. She expected the primitive side of him to be darker and harsher, but he wasn’t. If anything, he was warmer and more open. Though he despised this side of himself, she secretly liked him a lot more this way.
Not wanting to admit the truth, she shrugged.
Draven took one look at her, then burst out laughing. “My, aren’t you a bloodthirsty little hussy?”
Morgan flushed, then muttered under her breath, “Jackass.”
Everyone watched the two of them expectantly, and she tightened her lips, refusing to speak.
Unfortunately, the big lugs refused to budge without answers.
Morgan rolled her eyes, waving her hand at the crowd. “It’s too people-y out there. I’m more of the smash and kill type of girl.”
Kincade smirked, while Draven, the ass, gave another whoop of laughter, but Ryder and Ascher both nodded in complete agreement.
“They are a necessary evil,” Atlas grudgingly admitted, shocking her. “Think of it like a puzzle. The people are just pieces for you to move around. You need to find the correct pieces—”
“The killer and his target,” Morgan interrupted, pleased that he seemed to understand.
“The rest are unimportant.” Atlas surveyed the crowd, his eyes cool and analytical. People were an annoyance to him until they proved themselves useful.
But she couldn’t help thinking it made for a lonely life.
Ryder and Ascher weren’t as antisocial. Ryder kept to himself for fear of rejection and punishment if he stepped out of line. He wasn’t human, not even close, and any interaction with others was superficial—not that she could blame him. They saw him as an animal to be put to service, while he had to worry about whether one innocent scratch or touching the wrong person would get him killed.
Ascher didn’t trust others either, and with good reason…he’d been a prisoner, a slave to his master for years. He had no intention of letting anyone get that close again. Lesson learned. He only cared about one person…her. He’d been ordered to kill her and instead she’d rescued him. Since then he hadn’t left her side, tolerating the others just so he could remain close, and she adored him for his sacrifice. Whether he knew it or not, he was her lifeline, both on the battlefield and off. They were a team, and he would always have her back, no matter what…and she could do no less.
Shaking away her thoughts, Morgan studied the crowd more analytically. “Do we split up?”
Silence saturated the air around her, and she turned to catch the guys sharing that annoying silent glance that never boded well for a girl. She crossed her arms and glared. “You’d better not think you’re going to shove me in a corner while you hunt.”
No way in hell.
“You gave your word,” She snarled at Kincade. If he broke it, then she couldn’t be expected to be held to hers. At the first opportunity she’d sneak away and hunt on her own if they tried to bench her.
Something in her mutinous expression must have telegraphed her intent, and Kincade narrowed his frosted green eyes at her. “Though we might want to keep you safe, you are an asset. We’ll work as a team.”
None of the guys blinked while they waited for her reply. She slowly dropped her arms, then gave them a grudging nod, because she hadn’t really expected them to relent. “Thank you. Where do you want me?”
“The victims are both men and women, so we don’t know who we’re hunting. The people who died…they were scared literally to death.” Kincade gave her the crime scene information quickly, completely unemotional when talking about the details of the murders.
Morgan understood completely. This was their job. If they wanted to be the best, they needed to be clearheaded and unemotional. “Any idea what type of creature can do that?”
“Too many,” muttered Ryder, who’d been edging toward her ever since the conversation began, once more in control of himself. He stood protectively behind her like a hulking shadow no one would dare approach. And if they were stupid enough to ignore his bulk, his I’m-going-to-break-your-bones-into-small-pieces-and-eat-them-while-you-watch-and-enjoy-it glower would scare the rest away.
“Draven and Ascher will take the dance floor. Morgan and Ryder will take the bar,” Kincade began issuing orders. “I’ll search upstairs, while Atlas can take a seat on the balcony and observe from above.”
Without a word, the guys scattered. Though they were dressed in their battle gear, no one seemed to give them a second look. The paranormals were used to the image, while the humans probably thought they were dressing up…or were possibly part of a fetish.
Draven merged with the crowd and disappeared in seconds. People saw Atlas coming and scurried out of his way. Ascher and Kincade were better at not being seen, slipping unnoticed into the dancers. Instead of waiting for her, Ryder plowed a course toward the bar.
He didn’t go more than two paces before he reached back and grabbed her hand, towing her in his wake. Morgan marveled at the way people automatically scrambled out of his way or risked being mowed over, his broad shoulders quickly clearing a path, and she couldn’t help being a little jealous.
When people saw her coming, the bastards usually edged closer, sidling up and chatting, noticing her face and body first, completely missing the weapons she had stashed on her person or the murderous glee in her eyes. They assumed because Ryder was bigger, he was more dangerous. That having a pretty face made her weak.
They were wrong.
Ryder wedged himself at the bar, then tugged her in front of him, making room for her by backing up. People either gave way or got squashed. The grumbling around them didn’t faze her. She was just relieved she didn’t have to worry about some pervert pressing up against her, copping a feel.
She turned and leaned her elbows back on the bar, peering around Ryder to survey the dancers, and immediately spotted the paranormal creatures. T
hey strode through the crowd like majestic beasts, most of them physically stunning. They moved with a certain grace that was hypnotizing to watch, something no human could duplicate.
The mood on the dance floor shifted. It happened so slowly she almost didn’t notice the change as the crowd went from dancing to grinding against each other. It didn’t matter if it was man or woman, everyone was lost to the music.
She spotted Ascher first. He wasn’t dancing, instead behaving like a man who was trying to get drinks to his buddies, but that didn’t stop people from trying to get his attention. She had to tear her gaze away when a girl stood just a little too close to him and began dancing, hips swaying seductively to gain his attention.
Instead of watching the girl, he glanced up, instantly locating her in the crowd, as if he knew exactly where she was at all times, then rolled his eyes in exasperation at the girl’s antics and winked at Morgan. She hadn’t even been aware of moving toward him. She wished she could say she was going to go over there to rescue him, but it would be a lie. In truth, she wasn’t sure if she was going to stake her claim or rip the slutty girl apart…maybe both.
Ryder latched onto her wrist, then hauled her back and set her hands on the railing. “Maybe its best if you hold onto something…keep yourself occupied.”
She rolled her eyes at his wry grin, not the least bit ashamed, but took the hint. This was a job. She couldn’t interfere because she was jealous of some skank pawing at her man.
But something was definitely affecting the people, making them act like strippers.
She gasped and snapped upright.
“Draven.” She desperately searched the faces around her. While his touch didn’t affect her, it definitely affected others. When she spotted him, he had his arms wrapped around the waist of a tall, willowy blonde who had curves to die for. They were dancing so closely she’d have to peel the woman off of him, his sensual moves immediately triggering fantasies of how he would be in bed. His face was so close to the female’s they were practically kissing, and he flicked her hair over her shoulder, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her intimately.
Morgan stood frozen, unable to tear her gaze away, her stomach twisting so hard she thought she would be sick. Ryder stepped in front of her, gently turning her away to face the bar, sliding a shot in front of her. “He’s feeding. He hasn’t been eating, it’s put him on edge and that’s not healthy for his kind.”
“I know.” And she did. She grabbed the shot and threw it back in one swallow, hissing when it burned her throat. She’d watched him feed from other women, and it hadn’t bothered her, but there was something off about this girl, something that made Morgan want to march over there and rip her throat out.
The Draven she knew was always in control, especially when feeding.
He wasn’t tonight.
It was like he lost all his inhibitions and only saw the woman in front of him.
She couldn’t get the image of them out of her head, feeling like she was missing something important. When the feeling didn’t fade, she blurted out her concern. “Something’s not right.”
When she would’ve turned, Ryder blocked the view of the dance floor with his body, spinning her back around to face the bar. “You’re jealous.”
“Possibly,” Morgan admitted, but she still wasn’t convinced. She’d felt possessive when the other girl was touching Ascher, but this wasn’t the same. She’d always been possessive of the guys, but she’d never been jealous before, and wondered if this sickening feeling could explain it.
She accepted the second shot Ryder handed her without even glancing down, but it did nothing to soothe the unrest plucking at her nerves. Her body processed alcohol like a shifter, which meant she had maybe five minutes where her senses were dulled before the effects faded.
No amount of alcohol would change the fact that Draven wasn’t hers.
She had no right to feel jealous because he was dancing with another girl.
Ryder had his long arms on either side of hers on the railing, practically pinning her to the spot so she couldn’t turn and watch them with sickening fascination. The big wolf pressed his large body snugly against hers, and she leaned back, grateful for his warmth, finding herself aroused despite her irritation.
He nuzzled the side of her neck, and she tipped her head to the side and closed her eyes, more than willing to be seduced. He trailed his hands up her arms, then slid one hand possessively across her stomach, pulling her tighter against him, the sharp nip of his teeth making her jump. Though he tried to keep his distance, there was no disguising the erection that brushed against her ass.
It was only when an amorous couple next to them bumped into her that Morgan opened her eyes. Heat burned her face when she realized she’d been practically making out with Ryder in a bar.
Again.
Hell, she probably would’ve climbed him like a tree if they hadn’t been interrupted, and a hint of unease skittered down her spine. She frowned, then tapped his arm. When he tightened his grip and growled into her ear, real concern pinged through her. “Ryder?”
The big man immediately stilled at her tone.
Someone was using a hell of a lot of magic. It itched along her skin like a bad rash she couldn’t scratch.
When she turned, the dance floor looked like an X-rated club, and her attention immediately latched onto Draven. The tall blonde had his hand, playfully pulling him behind her as she slunk through the dancers, working her way toward the stairs.
The hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck rose at the dazed, goofy expression on Draven’s face. He wasn’t hiding behind his mask…there was nothing on his face at all but adoration. “Ryder—”
“I see him.” Ryder’s voice was low and grim.
She waited for him to charge across the floor, but he remained stoically at her side.
“Fuck this.”
She began to march after Draven when Ryder slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her clear off the floor like she weighed no more than a kitten, preventing her from going anywhere. He swung her back toward the bar, planting her in front of him. She latched onto the railing in case he thought to drag her outside, desperately trying to wiggle free of his hold.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, ready to drop him with a well-placed kick to the balls if she didn’t like his answers.
“We have to wait until they’re somewhere less public.” Ryder was smart enough not to release his hold on her, clearly poised to toss her over his shoulder and haul her out if she didn’t cooperate.
A slice of panic nearly cut her in two. She couldn’t leave, terrified that if she let Draven out of her sight, she’d never see him again. The woman slithered around Draven, trailing her hands down his arm and locking her fingers with his as she led him up the stairs.
Morgan glanced up at the balcony on the second floor, grateful to see Atlas making his way toward the pair. Only then did she notice Ascher doing the same. Relief weakened her knees and she was glad for Ryder’s support. She tapped his arm, waiting impatiently for his hold to loosen. She needed to go after the others. “I’m good. I’m in control.”
The big man hesitated, leaning down to sniff against her neck. She quickly slammed back her elbow and was rewarded with a grunt when she nailed him in the ribs and his arms dropped away. When she turned to glance up at him, the unfocused look in his eyes was like a knife to the gut. “I think whatever’s happening in the club is affecting you, too.”
Ryder didn’t appear disturbed by the news, instead focused on touching her again, his fingers playing distractedly with her hair. A glance at the others showed that they didn’t appear to be as affected, but she couldn’t risk Draven’s life on a gamble.
But why Ryder?
What was different about him?
It took a second for the truth to dawn on her.
“It’s your sense of smell.” Morgan nudged him away gently, not wishing to trigger him. “You’re being affected by phero
mones.”
Trepidation skittered down her spine while she waited for his reaction, and she gripped the railing tightly so he couldn’t drag her away.
He appeared torn, his eyes glittering with lust, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t seem interested in anyone else. She wasn’t sure she could handle seeing him flirt with someone else, too.
“Whatever is affecting me must lower inhibitions.” His gruff tone made her skin tingle. Knowing she could bring him to his knees sent heat spreading through her…and she wanted to get burned.
Unfortunately now was not the time.
The necklace warmed against her neck, the metal slithering against her skin, lengthening, the strands twisting together. When she glanced down, she froze.
It was a little skeleton dangling at the end of a noose.
Without conscious thought, she wrenched the metal railing off the bar with a snap, the bolts pinging to the floor, until an arm-length section came away in her hands. The metal heated, bubbled and twisted, then hardened, leaving her gripping a freaking sword.
She’d take it.
With a vicious smile, she turned and headed toward the stairs, her sword close at her side, determined to rescue her men before it was too late.
Chapter Five
One would think a person walking through a crowded bar with a three-foot sword would raise a few eyebrows, but no one ran away screaming. Most of the humans were too busy to notice, their lust-hazed minds locked on their pursuit of pleasure, while many of the paranormals were used to the sight. A smart few glanced at her with the sword, then calmly headed toward the exit, wanting to avoid getting mixed up in whatever trouble was going down.
Most creatures had a well-developed sense of self-preservation. Only a few were stupid enough to think they were the hunters and not the prey when the assassins were called in for a job.
By the time she reached the stairs, a third of the people had left the bar in a mass exodus. They didn’t run or hurry, but calmly stood up without a word and simply walked out.
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