Only a few sick fucks remained behind to watch the free entertainment, knowing someone was about to die. A small percentage of paranormal creatures were true predators—they missed inflicting pain, missed the chaos of death. They were the bottom-feeders who would eventually break the law and be hunted down, but until that happened, they remained free citizens.
She took the stairs two at a time, Ryder hard on her heels, the bastard’s long legs making it appear effortless.
Ascher and Atlas were waiting for her at the top. She peered around them, then glanced back in confusion when the halls remained ominously empty. “Cade?”
Atlas eyed her sword with narrowed eyes, no doubt a little jealous since she’d destroyed his, but he shook his head, his expression grim. “He never returned.”
Nausea churned in her gut as she turned to face the hall where she’d last seen both her men disappear.
Atlas didn’t hesitate to take his place at her side, his calming presence easing her anxiety a notch. He opened the door to the right, revealing a private party beyond, most of the inhabitants not even noticing the intrusion, too focused on their orgy.
She opened the door to the left, then gave a startled jump to find Kincade just inches away. “Thank the gods! Where the hell have you been?”
Relief made her voice sharper than she intended, and Morgan resisted the urge to curse when he didn’t respond immediately. “What the hell are you doing standing alone in the dark?”
She inched closer when she noticed he wasn’t moving. “Kincade?”
She reached out with a shaky hand, her palm coming to rest on his chest.
His stone chest.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He looked so realistic, she hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t human. The stone was still warm under her touch. “What’s wrong with him?”
Atlas swiftly returned to her side, while Ryder remained by the door to guard their backs.
“It’s a defense mechanism,” Atlas replied distractedly, surveying the room beyond.
“What the hell would scare him so much that he would turn to stone?”
“Not necessarily scared,” Atlas murmured as he leaned closer to his friend. “It could be he was caught by surprise. He was obviously exiting the room…but was he running out to warn us or did he stumble across someone in the hall?”
Kincade was the most capable man she knew. He prided himself on being able to handle any situation he came across. So what could have managed to take him by surprise?
Or, better yet…
“How do we turn him back?”
“Kincade is young for a gargoyle. His full form won’t emerge for decades yet, not until he’s mastered his ability to control stone.”
Morgan nodded, wishing he would hurry it the hell up. “And?”
“He’s like a shifter,” Ryder interrupted. “You can only turn back and forth so many times before becoming exhausted. When he’s gathered enough energy he’ll soften and move on his own.”
Everything inside her protested at the thought of abandoning him, even for a short period. When she glanced back at Kincade, she was startled to see that he had moved. The scowl she was so used to seeing aimed at her was back on his face. It looked like he was trying to break free—to warn her about something. Unfortunately, she was afraid Draven didn’t have that much time.
“You could try kissing him.” Atlas went back out in the hall, already moving toward the next door. “Otherwise, I suggest you close the door and we continue on our search. He’ll be fine.”
“A kiss?” She parroted back, but Atlas was already down the hall.
“You’re mates.” Ryder said, as if that answered everything.
“So?” She stared at him blankly.
“You might be able to call him back by using your connection to him.” When she continued to stare blankly at Ryder, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, then gently nudged her forward. “Kiss him.”
Morgan hesitated, uncertain about kissing one guy at the urging of another. Her mates were raised in a culture where it was normal to share, while she’d been raised to believe she’d never find even one mate, much less five.
Deciding to take the bull by the horns, she put the others out of her mind as she approached Kincade, tightening her grip on her sword at the sudden rush of nerves. Kissing him without permission, when he was helpless, felt forbidden and surprisingly enticing.
He was such a strong personality—literally a bossy asshole most of the time—the chance to touch him when he couldn’t take control sent heat shooting through her, and the seductive thought of actually exploring him at her leisure prodded her closer. Kincade was bold, demanding what he wanted, and she craved this chance to turn the tables on him and make him squirm.
Her emotions were raw as she reached up and brushed her lips lightly against his.
She expected to feel cold stone, expected his lips to be hard and clinical.
She worried kissing him would be emotionless…like kissing an inanimate object.
Instead, he was almost hot under her touch, inviting her to stretch out against him and bask in the heat. She run her hands up his neck, his sculptured chest rumbling deliciously, then scraped her fingernails down his neck, loving it when he seemed to shiver.
Then he was kissing her back, slowly at first, a tortured groan tearing free from deep within his soul, and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing closer, needing more.
Stone rubbed against stone until seconds later she felt his arms band around her. Maybe she should worry about being crushed, but she only felt the strength and power he used to protect her.
When she pulled back, more than a little breathless, Kincade was once more back to his normal self. She gave herself permission to touch his face, wanting to make sure he was really all right…and confirm the breath-stealing kiss was real. “You okay?”
The dazed look in his pale green eyes faded, and he swore viciously. Instead of shoving her away like she expected, he pulled her closer, tucking her against him.
And she realized he was shaking.
“Yeah.” He kissed the top of her head, then gave her a squeeze. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”
She flushed under his attention, then reluctantly pulled away. “What the hell happened?”
Color stained his cheeks. She couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or angry, but Morgan was suddenly pissed. “Let me guess…you ran across a certain blonde?”
His head snapped up. “I was checking this room when she walked in. Before I could say anything, she began kissing me.”
“Oh, really?” Morgan raised a brow, her smile sharp as she turned on her heel and stalked out the door, whipping her sword back and forth in front of her, mentally already slicing and dicing the blonde to bits.
That woman had the audacity to touch two of her men.
Which was completely unacceptable.
Kincade scrambled after her, his face tight as he tried to explain. “She’s a succubus. I caught her off guard. The fastest way for them to subdue their prey is by using their powers.”
“Stop.” Morgan halted so suddenly, Kincade plowed into her back. All that prevented her from toppling over were his fast reflexes. He caught hold of her, then didn’t seem to know how to let her go. “Are you under the impression that I’m mad at you?”
Kincade lifted his hands from her, holding them up in surrender, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah—”
“Because I’m not.”
His head snapped up, and he dropped his arm, his eyes narrowing dangerously. She thought he would be happy or at least relieved. Instead, he looked pissed.
“You’re not?” He sounded suspicious, as if expecting a trap.
“Nope.” Morgan smiled at him again, her lips feeling stiff. She wasn’t jealous…she was furious, and terrified for Draven. “Draven is a siren. Shouldn’t he be immune to a succubus?”
“What do you mean?” Kincade demanded, the inconsiderate ass b
ack in charge.
“Your succubus has found her next victim…Draven.”
Not my succubus.
Kincade scowled down at Morgan, still shaking at the way a simple brush of her lips nearly brought him to his knees.
Morgan was the only woman in his life.
May the gods help him.
And he wouldn’t change a thing.
While she said she wasn’t jealous, the tight way she held herself didn’t bode well for him.
She was one inch away from exploding.
While he enjoyed a good fight with her, loved pushing her, she was a dangerous predator when roused.
The change back from stone should’ve been gradual, leaving his limbs and joints stiff, but her kiss had turned his insides to mush. Unfortunately, her touch didn’t have the same effect on his erection. He fucking loved how she took control of him and the kiss, how she took what she needed from him, and damned if his breath didn’t catch at the thought of her straddling him, taking her pleasure, didn’t make his head explode.
He was pretty sure that not even a week alone with her would cure him of getting aroused by just one look at those brilliant blue eyes.
“Geeze, I think his brain is still frozen.” Morgan complained, then snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention.
He grabbed her arm, scowling when she wiggled out of his grip, immediately missing her attention, and he scrambled to remember her question. “Not necessarily immune, but Draven isn’t a full-blooded siren.”
“And he hasn’t fed in a while,” Atlas added as he came back, and Kincade watched Morgan turn to the elf with hope in her eyes. “The floor is clear. They aren’t here.”
Her hope turned to fear, and her worry tore at his guts. Kincade balled his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching for her, and he comforted her the only way he could—by giving her his word. “We’ll find him.”
“You searched this floor.” Morgan pointed an accusing finger at him. “What other ways are there to leave?”
Finding the exits wouldn’t help them find Draven, but he knew that she wasn’t ready to hear that.
Morgan would never forgive him if anything happened to the siren. Even though they weren’t mated, Morgan had claimed Draven as surely as if she marked him.
She was the key to finding him.
“Close your eyes.”
The minx narrowed her gaze suspiciously before reluctantly obeying, and he silently released his breath, shoving down the wild urge to kiss her blind. She was so stubborn, he hadn’t been sure she would even listen. “I want you to concentrate on Draven. Focus your attention on him.”
As soon as she closed her eyes, Kincade walked toward her, lured closer by the chance to study her face at his leisure. When she cracked open an eye, looking at him distrustfully, he repressed a smile. By the gods, she was beautiful…albeit a bit too willful.
And damn if he didn’t love it.
“Close them.” He couldn’t stop the way his voice roughened with the desire to kiss her again. “Do you have Draven in your mind?”
“Yes.” Her brows were scrunched up.
The chain from her necklace slowly rose in the air. Most magic reminded him of the coldness of the void as it stole energy from the world around them. Hers was pure heat that called to his creature. She didn’t pull magic, she actually seemed to create it.
The metal of the necklace melted and twisted to form a tiny, mechanical compass. The outside of the compass was covered with runes that he had no hope of deciphering, while the center spun wildly, like a coin flipping in the air, meaning it could point in more than four directions. The tip of the star in the center was pointing north, and when the coin stopped spinning, north was directly below their feet.
When he looked up, the awe in Morgan’s gaze was captivating. She still saw her magic as a gift, not a tool to be used and controlled. And he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.
“What do you say we go find Draven?” The compass dropped to her chest when he spoke, the gold gleaming against her pale skin.
Morgan beamed up at him, her smile more bloodthirsty than flirty, but he’d take it. He followed her as she raced down the hall, the sway of her hips hypnotizing. Instead of bothering with the stairs, she brought up her sword, and jumped over the railing to the floor below, and he couldn’t help but grin as he leapt after her.
He would follow her anywhere.
He just hoped he’d be able to catch her when she pushed too far and fell.
Chapter Six
Thanks to the compass, Morgan located the basement door back by the bathrooms, and she felt stupid for not noticing it sooner. The succubus had probably been lurking below the floorboards the entire time, and she’d missed it.
She opened the door, the locks easily snapping under her demand for entrance. She expected a dark staircase and cobwebs, but the place was well lit.
Thank goodness for no dungeons.
She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.
The stairs curved at the bottom, leaving the rest of the room hidden, and she kept her steps light. Of like minds, the guys were so silent they could’ve been ghosts. The basement was packed with liquor boxes and barrels of beer.
It also looked empty.
No Draven.
Glancing down at the necklace, she saw it pointing straight ahead—directly at a solid wall. “Is it broken?”
Alarm shot through her at the thought of all the time she’d wasted.
“No.” Kincade nudged her aside, then walked toward the wall of pure stone. Then, without hesitation, he drew back his powerful arm and slammed his fist into the rock.
The stone crumbled like it was made of graham crackers.
Even before he finished, she wedged herself into the small opening he’d created, ignoring his curses. When Kincade grabbed her ankle, yelling at her to wait, she used her other leg to slam her boot into his face, wincing when her blow connected with a solid thwack. “Sorry!” But she didn’t let it slow her down.
As soon as he released her, she dragged herself through the opening and shot to her feet, charging down the hall, the light up ahead almost blinding. She burst into the room to find Draven slumped on the floor, the woman crouched over him.
Without a second’s thought, she lifted the sword over her head.
“Hey, bitch.” The woman turned, and Morgan sent the sword sailing through the air.
It landed with a meaty thump dead center in the woman’s chest. The succubus opened her mouth and closed it a few times, then looked down, as if befuddled to discover a sword sticking out of her torso.
It was the first good look Morgan got of the woman—she was stunning. Her features were small and delicate, her lips plump, her hair lush, the combination so exotic it was hard to look away. She could easily understand how others could fall under her spell, hoping for just a smile. But her eyes gave her away. They were completely alien-looking, poised and waiting for a person to get close enough so she could suck out their soul.
“Dammit, I just got this body.” The woman pouted and reached for the weapon, slowly pulling the sword out of her chest. Despite the blood gushing down her front, she looked in the pink of health.
Then Morgan understood…she was using the energy she took from Draven to heal.
“Do you know how long it takes to locate the perfect host? It can take months to find just the right match.” She ran a hand down the front of the body, smearing the blood. “Not to mention how much energy it takes to possess them. This one was a fighter. It took me weeks to wear her down, and you’ve ruined all my fun. Now I’ll have to start all over.”
She ran her gaze speculatively over Morgan.
“Yeah, not going to happen. I’m a lot more trouble than I’m worth.” She nodded to Draven. “He can attest to that.”
“Ah, so cute. Did you come to rescue your little boyfriend?” She bared her teeth and began to expertly swing the sword. “He tastes so good
, I can’t wait to finish. The last part, when they know they’re going to die, is always the most fun.”
The metal cuffs around Morgan’s wrists and the rings on her fingers melted, the liquid running down her hands to form a set of black blades, one in each hand. The blades were both cursed and blessed, and they were the only weapons in existence that could create mortal wounds on any creature from the different realms.
The pleasure on the succubus’s face dimmed, and she licked her lips greedily. “So pretty. I think I’ll save you for dessert. When you’re a breath away from death, it will be so easy to take over your shell.”
“You want it?” Morgan grinned manically, then launched herself forward. “I’ll fight you for it.”
Morgan tossed the first blade as a distraction, aiming for the bitch’s throat. As she suspected, the woman lifted the sword, easily batting it away. She was less than a foot away when the succubus swung the sword, aiming for her head.
Morgan didn’t hesitate, dropping to the ground and taking the woman out at the knees. Momentum tipped the succubus forward, but instead of releasing the sword, she tucked it close, twisting to land on her side.
Leaving the sword aimed directly at Morgan.
Not giving herself a second to hesitate, Morgan grabbed the blade of the sword and yanked it to the side, ignoring the bite of pain in her palm, then brought down the remaining black blade, plunging it directly into the woman’s chest.
The succubus breathed out a surprised puff of air, her alien gaze showing no expression as she stared up at her. “That was unexpected.”
Morgan watched black streaks spread out from where the blade was embedded in the succubus’s body, as if the metal was consuming her life force. No matter how much Morgan tried to jerk the blade out or release her hold, she remained stuck, her hand glued to the pommel.
The knife tingled in her grip, the runes on the blade shimmering slightly, the power spreading up her arm like ants crawling under her skin. The sensation spread until it reached her other hand, and the deep cut in her palm that had sliced down to bone began to stitch itself together.
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