Ivory (The Manhattan Ten Series Book 1)

by Lola Dodge

  “It’s too soon to say.” Hopefully I wouldn’t be around long enough to have a fuller answer.

  “Why were you working for the airlines?”

  That was easy enough. “I like to travel.”

  “What were you doing on the roof this afternoon?”

  “That’s...” Not as easy.

  “Ivory’s powers are connected to the earth.” Tank covered for me. “She uses the outdoors to center herself.”

  “Then why on top of the safety railing?” The reporter wouldn’t be deterred. “You chose a dangerous place to meditate.”

  “Her balance is like a cat’s.” Jag cut in before I could think of an explanation. “I’d know.” He shifted his chair so close his heat seared my skin, shoulder and thigh. “Anyway, I’m keeping both eyes on her.”

  So much for pecking order. The shouts and cameras exploded again.

  “Are you romantically involved?” one yelled above the general chaos.

  “I’m working on it.” Jag set his chin on my shoulder.

  A droplet of water trickled down from my collar of diamonds. Too close. Too hot.

  His blood ran like a furnace.

  Being near him was like straddling two ice floes moving in opposite directions.

  I was drawn to him, but getting closer was the worst thing I could do.

  I couldn’t be a hero, couldn’t stand the flashing lights, and couldn’t stay under the media’s gaze a second longer.

  Not even I could keep that kind of conflict bottled. It had to come out. The ice pooled in my hands, but before I could work the crystals into anything deadly, Tank touched my wrist.

  In one poof the ice vaporized.

  As if he weren’t dangerous enough as a mind reader. He could do this? And so easily?

  I stood, knocking back my chair in a blast that finally silenced the reporters. “I’m done answering questions.” More than anything, I hated being jerked around, and between Jag and Tank, I felt like the ball in a Ping-Pong match.

  No more.

  Tank let me go. He couldn’t risk a wrestling contest in front of so many cameras. I strode down the steps toward the exit.

  “I guess that’s a no,” Jag called into the mic before jogging to my side. I would’ve blasted him with ice where it counted, but Tank had clamped down on my powers, and as hard as I reached, no force of will could break his hold.

  My ice was suppressed.

  Was this a game to them?

  A media circus wasn’t going to help me disassociate myself from the Ten.

  Wasn’t that the true intention, then?

  They wanted me in, and none of them cared how it would damage my future. The life I’d carved for myself would slip through my fingers like snowflakes.

  My family would find me. My mother would—

  “Chill.” Jag gripped my elbow and steered me into a darkened side room when I would’ve stormed into the street. His claws were firm as steak knives. “Relax and he’ll give you back the ice.”

  “Will he?” I tore my arm away so quickly his claws ripped flesh. The flash of pain spurred my anger. “How kind of him.”

  “Fuck.” Jag ushered me deeper into the room—an unused conference space—away from anyone that might wander past. He produced a handkerchief for the streaks of blood on my arm. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Why won’t you leave me alone?” No pain registered, despite the dripping blood.

  “I want to get to know you.” He dabbed at the gouges, and his claws were gone, replaced with rounded human fingernails.

  “Don’t.” I pulled back from his gentle touch. “And don’t bother.”

  His eyes hardened. “I’ve seen the real you. When are you going to cut this frigid bullshit?”

  “This is the real me.” I’d heard my coworkers whisper it enough: cold, hard bitch. It was the price I’d paid to escape, and the price I kept paying to keep myself in polite society. “And I’m tired of the manipulation bullshit.”

  “You need us more than we need you.”

  “Excuse me?” I froze in my headlong rush for the exit.

  “Welcome to the shit show.” Jag lifted a re-clawed hand to his face. “I’m about thirty seconds from shifting, but I don’t have to hide it. You stay with us, you can be accepted for what you are. And honestly? Where else could you fit?”

  “I have a life. I don’t need this.” For years I’d worked to learn modern culture, to fit in and hide the parts that wouldn’t gel. Now I was supposed to throw it away to live with fraternity boys in capes?

  “How many friends you have in that amazing life of yours?” Jag followed me when I made another run for the door. “None, I’d guess, and as soon as you walk out, you’re spitting on Angel.”

  His words stopped me again. “Her I don’t disrespect.”

  “Who do you think is going to have to deal with it if you run?”

  It was an old-fashioned guilt trip, and a good one.

  I liked Angel. She had an agenda like all of the Ten, but she’d been up-front about it and was doing her best to make me feel comfortable.

  Plus the size twelve shoes. Those alone were worth a few favors from me.

  I sighed, releasing some of my tension. “I’ll go to the party, but I’m done with reporters.”

  As soon as I spoke, my fingertips tingled. My powers were back, but Tank may as well have crawled inside my brain the way he was following my impulses.

  He and I needed to have a talk.

  “Better hurry. They’re already gonna wonder what we’ve been doing this long all by ourselves.”

  Fueling those rumors was the last thing I wanted. The way Jag’s skin glistened in the dim light, I might end up making their sordid ideas into reality if I didn’t get some space away from him.

  I forced myself to take the steps toward the hum of chatter and the clink of crystal. A drink sounded wonderful.

  In the ballroom, the social was gearing up. The Ten had splintered, with each hero chatting up a ring of reporters. Nihil was noticeably alone, but Angel had an impressive circle of male admirers.

  The anchorwomen had more options, but Steel’s group was largest and loudest, with most of his ladies in fits of giggles from some joke he’d told.

  Everyone noticed our arrival, but they seemed to be enjoying their conversations because no one jumped to swarm to Jag and me.

  Maybe they wanted to wait and test my mood. That was wise.

  I was still far from satisfied with the situation, but at least the cameras were gone. No more photo- ops or flash blindness tonight. I’d see my opponents coming toward me.

  But more fortification wouldn’t hurt. Banquet staff made rounds with appetizer and drink trays. I reached as one neared with flutes of champagne.

  An unseasonable frost clung to the stems and I froze mid-reach. The waiter stopped as if his feet had iced over, and maybe they had.

  Tall. Blond and blue-eyed. With the hint of a chill on his body.

  He was one of my people.

  It had been years, and he’d aged from an awkward teen into a fine-looking warrior, but I dredged the name from my memory. “Kevan.”

  “My lady Valdís.” The reverent words fell from Kevan’s lips as a low growl built at my side.

  “Who’s the penguin?” Jag pushed closer.

  Kevan set the tray on the floor, ignoring Jag, his job, the growing crowd, and anything but me. He got down on hands and knees, pressing his forehead to the parquet floor in the deepest of bows.

  “Please. I’m not—” Not his lady, and certainly not the woman I had been. I’d abandoned my people and my duties. I neither deserved nor wanted any honors, and I would’ve been a lot less confused if he’d tried to kill me instead of bowing.

  With so many curious ears leaning in, I couldn’t ask Kevan to explain himself. Not to mention Jag, growling at my side.

  The press couldn’t know about the tribe.

  They’d be rabid to hunt them down, and my tribesmen wouldn’t he
sitate to skewer a reporter or twenty. But how could Kevan be so far from home? And why? I was the misfit for leaving. No one else had ever seen the value in modern civilization. “Stand, Kevan.”

  “My lady.” He rose onto his knees, revealing the tears frozen to his bottom lashes. “We feared you were taken to the wastes beyond.”

  “I’m fine. Please rise.” Of course he wouldn’t listen. Kevan grabbed my fingertips and pressed his lips to one of the ice diamond rings.

  Jag’s growl exploded.

  His primal roar lifted the hairs on the back of my neck into the stratosphere. My instincts told me to run, but as soon as I turned I was captivated.

  Black skin flashed to supple fur, and a massive jungle cat lunged for Kevan’s throat.

  Six

  JAG

  The change was out of my control. But fuck this ice-bastard.

  Ivory was mine and I would claw those lips off homeboy’s pretty face.

  As soon as I was on four paws, I sprang. Glasses shattered, spraying champagne. His eyes widened for a delicious moment, but then his hunter snapped into control, and superhuman fast, he rolled away, rising from his crouch with a wicked ice spear pointed at my jugular.

  Bring. It. On.

  As I prowled forward, Ivory gave a juicy Nordic curse. Supermodel legs blocked me from my prey.

  I snarled, but Ivory crouched down showing empty hands. “Not here.”

  Her gaze cooled my bloodlust.

  With my height and her position, we were eye-level, and maybe I hadn’t spent enough time staring, but damn. She’d never looked at me like this before.

  Those gorgeous baby-blues had little flecks of silver, and Ivory saw into my soul. Reaching slowly, she stroked the fur behind my ear. “I didn’t think you’d be so—”

  “Beautiful.” Ice boy completed her sentence.

  A growl tore up my throat, because fuck him. I wanted to hear that shit from Ivory.

  “Beautiful,” she echoed.

  I’d thought she was the cold one, but I was melting. Maybe since I was always baiting her, I’d only ever gotten her guarded side. The huntress took in half a ton of muscle, claws and fangs, and finally relaxed.

  Even women who knew who and what I was freaked when they saw the full show.

  But Ivory? She probably liked the cat more than the man. She smoothed the fur at my neck and I couldn’t help but purr.

  You’re giving sound bytes now? Tank cracked the moment.

  I’d gone a little oblivious of the rest of the room, and so much for no cameras. Thanks to an Apple store worth of iPhones, this would be viral in time for the ten o’clock news.

  That thought felt the same as watching ice boy’s lips on my Ivory’s skin. She wasn’t for sharing.

  I focused, calming to shift back to two legs, but Tank clamped down. Leave it. Your girl’s having an epiphany.

  Whoa. Details?

  Ivory stroked my fur, oblivious to the rest of the room. She smelled a little like wood smoke and the crisp, cold air right before it snows. I was ready to jump under the covers and weather the storm with her.

  “This beast is yours?” Ice boy was on his feet and scanning the crowd, but he hadn’t dropped his spear. Ivory showed him her back, and that wasn’t going to fly.

  I nudged past her, putting my claws between her and the weapon.

  She tsked but kept stroking my head, so I wasn’t complaining. “For now.”

  His spear evaporated in a puff of mist. “I would protect you, my lady, but I must go.”

  “We need to talk.”

  I had a few questions myself.

  How did an iceman get hired as a banquet waiter? And what was with the “my lady” shit?

  That was my lady he was talking about, but I couldn’t do much without a voice box, so hopefully he got me from the growling.

  “Hush.” Ivory patted my flank.

  “Of course.” The guy bowed and backed toward the crowd that was too happy to part for him. “Please find us. We’ll wait for you.”

  He turned and sprinted. I wanted to chase until I could rip out his throat for real, but Ivory gripped the fur at my shoulder. “Let him go.”

  The guy was definitely a loose end, and I was at the top of Tank’s shit list again, but with Ivory at my side, I counted this a decent night.

  I’d work the jaguar shape as long as I needed to get her to give a guy a chance.

  IVORY

  I’d expected Tank or even one of the other heroes to step in and control the situation, but Kevan melted away on his own, leaving Jag and me surrounded by the press.

  Kevan clearly didn’t share my desire to keep our race hidden, but then again, maybe he’d never seen a camera phone? The damage could’ve been much worse than a tray of shattered champagne flutes.

  And that was why Tank hadn’t stopped it. It was an entertaining show with no one hurt and no damage compared to what the Ten could do. He wouldn’t have to make any apologies and the reporters went home with their fodder.

  I, on the other hand, would have plenty to explain. Jag butted my hip. His shifted form was the only thing keeping the press from bombarding me with questions.

  My instincts confirmed there was no need to fear him. He stood perfectly calm, with a constant purr as I scratched behind his ear.

  He was beautiful.

  That velvety black fur slid over powerful muscles and his lantern yellow eyes were shocking against the darkness. They held the same mixture of humor and hunter’s glare as his human form, but shifted Jag didn’t set my blood screaming.

  All of his strength was out on display and as long as he wasn’t pretending to be human, I couldn’t read him as an enemy.

  I should have been worrying about Kevan, but Jag was calming that chain of thoughts. He pushed my buttons as a human, but as a cat?

  Without the sexual heat in play, I was drawn to the simple truth of him. The power and grace—everything he was—spoke to me.

  I just didn’t know how to respond.

  Angel parted the crowd, hustling over as fast as she could on her heels. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s fine.” Kevan was gone, but he’d be easy enough to track now that I knew to look. “I have to—”

  “No, you don’t.” Angel’s gaze firmed. “Not that I can stop you, but if you go after your friend, half this room is going to empty out to follow you.”

  “I’m not going to stay and play into this circus.”

  Jag brushed past me, giving Angel a nudge with his head. He snarled.

  “Don’t growl at me.” She flicked his ear, but when she turned to me she’d softened again. “You have to be exhausted. Let them get a few shots of you and the big cat, and then you can both go home. We’ll sort everything else out tomorrow.”

  I was still far from calling the Ten’s tower home, but I might as well take Angel’s offer. If Kevan was surviving New York, he didn’t need me to step in and care for him now. It would be better if I could forget him altogether.

  I was the one who’d severed ties, and as long as he wasn’t going to try to kill me, I didn’t actually have to worry about the tribe. “I’ll go back to the tower.”

  Angel escorted us outdoors, where another wave of cameramen had set up a perimeter. I dropped into a crouch, pressing my face into Jag’s warm fur rather than be blinded. He purred, and for once I found calm without reaching for my ice. By the time the Hummer maneuvered its way to us, the press had to have a thousand shots to choose from.

  Everyone was happy.

  Except me, but given the circumstances, I’d settle with where I was.

  Jag leaped into the car, his weight dipping the frame down around the tires. I climbed in behind him and Angel waved the driver away.

  Sitting, I realized how tired I really was. My bones ached as if gravity had doubled, sinking me deep down into the leather.

  So much had changed in so little time.

  I was still jet-lagged, and between confronting my past and a press arm
y, my edges were beyond ragged.

  Jag nudged his head into my lap.

  “You’re not going to change back?”

  He eased his head back and forth, which I took as a no. This form wouldn’t make for much conversation, but I wasn’t in the mood for chatter. I petted his fur, letting bass purring fill the silence. “I like you this way. Though it’s silly to call you Jag when you are actually a jaguar.”

  The name wasn’t creative enough.

  He pushed air through his nose in a whuff for obviously. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t know his true name. He’d never offered it, and if the others knew, they didn’t favor it.

  Maybe the real surprise was I wanted to know. But there’d been plenty of surprises since I met Jag.

  “I thought I’d want to hunt you.” Predators tended to bring out the matching instincts in me, but this was farthest thing from that. I wanted to hunt with him at my side, but not now. Sometime in the future, when we both felt like it, I liked the idea of stalking some other prey together.

  It was a quiet ride back to the tower. From the parking garage we hit the elevator and the two of us could just squeeze inside. I punched sixteen and moved to hit Jag’s button, but I didn’t know his floor. “This would be a good time to shift.”

  He maneuvered around, backing me away from the panel of buttons. When the door pinged open on my floor, he darted through. By the time I remembered where to find the light switches, he had his paws tucked underneath himself on the living room couch.

  “Just don’t scratch the carpets.” Not that I’d be here long enough to care about the damage. Even if the press wasn’t satisfied and I could never go back to my routine at the airline, I was perfectly capable of starting fresh.

  Patagonia would be lovely this time of year.

  In the bathroom I shucked off my gown and evaporated the ice diamonds. A shower would’ve been pleasant, but it was too much work. Instead I splashed my face with water and twisted my hair up. I needed sleep. I wrapped myself in a towel until I could find a nightgown in the pile of Angel clothes.