Twist (Mageri Series: Book 2)

by Dannika Dark

It felt like the Atlantic fucking Ocean was crashing over me in relentless waves. I glared at myself in the mirror. The wide collar of my green shirt revealed a splotchy red chest, which matched my face. Strands of hair stuck to my tear-stained cheeks. I was a mess, and no one was going to see me have a meltdown, especially not Logan.

  I hated him—hated that he knew what buttons to push. I was too strong to be this weakened by a four-letter word like love. Turning the faucet, I splashed cold water on my face.

  Knuckles lightly rapped against the door.

  “Occupied.”

  Drops of water clung to the tip of my nose, and I wondered why it was so hard to let go of my past. My human life clung to me like tiny invisible cobwebs.

  “If you don’t open this door, I’m going to break it in and get us arrested by the air marshal,” he promised. “Try me, because I will.”

  I reached with one hand and released the latch as I leaned on the sink basin. Logan squeezed inside the tight space and shut the door.

  I didn’t lift my eyes to meet his gaze as I stared at the drain.

  Without a word, he wrapped his strong arms around my stomach and waist, lying flush against my back. Logan held me like it mattered, and I looked at him through the mirror as he eased his head into the crook of my neck.

  “What are you doing?” I protested.

  Before my ears registered the sound—my body felt it. A soothing vibration deep within his chest rolled through me, calming me on a level I couldn’t comprehend. It was as if the problems of the world melted away in his arms and all I felt was safety, compassion, and warmth. A man I barely knew gave me comfort, asking for nothing in return.

  I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and accepted his offer.

  After a few moments, I collected myself and straightened up. I watched him through the mirror as he reached around, pulling my hair back and detaching the strands that clung to my face. He was gentle and tender, and not at all as I imagined him to be.

  “I forget myself—that you were once human. You will toughen with the years.”

  I turned around. “Like a steak?”

  His eyes hooded. “Mmm, and I like mine rare.”

  “Well I’m rare, that’s for sure.”

  Logan stepped forward, and his fingers grazed my wrist. “Look at me, Silver.”

  I studied the laces on his sneakers and noticed they were double knotted.

  When he moved closer, our legs touched. It was a strange thing to notice when I should have been more concerned about what I was feeling about it.

  He lifted my chin with the tip of his finger. “It takes courage to look into the eyes of a Chitah.”

  I felt the warm insistence of his body and I licked my lips, staring at his mouth. “You make me nervous.”

  “Look at me,” he whispered. When I did, something raw flashed in those golden eyes and he stroked my cheek, collecting the last drop of water.

  “How did someone like you become a killer?” I asked.

  He shrugged with his brows. “I work independently, and I do what it takes to get a job done.”

  “It was more than a job when you came to me that night; you were enjoying it.”

  “I always enjoy stalking my prey.”

  “Then why didn’t you kill me?”

  “Guilt has a scent. Evil deeds have a distinct fragrance—a perfume that you don’t wear.” His voice lifted an octave. “You also forget that I was not there to kill you, but to retrieve you.”

  “You could have just given me over to those men.”

  His face soured as he pushed away. Logan seemed impossibly taller. When I glanced up, the tips of his incisors peeked through. Not all the way, but just enough that I noticed.

  “How many Mage do you think have challenged me the way you did? You’re fierce-hearted, which is not a common trait I see in your kind. So unlike our females,” he said, lowering his eyes to my mouth. “Would you answer the truth to one question?”

  I lifted a shoulder.

  “When you kissed me back, was it only for your freedom?”

  I remembered the moment I gave in, the way his lips warmed against mine. Deep down, I felt guilty. Not just for offering such a thing to Logan, but for wanting it myself.

  A powerful heady scent struck with sudden force and filled the room—one that was dark and attractive. It played tricks on my senses as I had a brief flash of our bodies tangling and…

  I shoved him back with my hand, pushing just enough power in him to sting. “Oh, no. Do NOT put your scent on this airplane; there’s not enough air freshener in Baltimore that could cover that up!”

  I squeezed out of the door, shutting him in the bathroom, where he remained the rest of the flight.

  Chapter 19

  “Stop fidgeting.”

  “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one wearing a Band-Aid masquerading as a skirt.”

  Logan chuckled and dipped his nose into the glass of brandy. We sat beside each other at the bar, and he stared straight ahead. “If his weakness is legs, then a look at your gams should send him to his knees.”

  When it comes to women, all men have a personal preference. Marco enjoyed long legs and blue eyes. I spent an hour shaving and moisturizing. I couldn’t do a damn thing about my eyes because I refused to wear contacts. He also preferred blond hair, but not exclusively. Justus hand-selected my outfit knowing what would lure him—a formfitting white dress with delicate embroidered designs, short enough to show skin, but long enough to show class. Of course, he might have been more impressed by the price tag.

  “Could you disappear for a while?”

  “He won’t see my eyes,” Logan said, hunched over. “I’m a man who knows how to keep a low profile. Can you sense what I am? No, because all of the energy these humans are throwing off will dull it out.”

  True, a Mage could sense a subtle difference in the energy between a human and Breed, but it wasn’t sharp enough to detect in such a crowd. That’s how Logan managed to get close to all of his victims.

  “You’re making me nervous, and I can’t pretend to be sexy when I’m nervous.”

  Logan eased out of his seat and reached over me to place a tip on the bar. His body brushed against mine as he spoke in a low voice. “I’ll be near.”

  When Logan cleared out of sight, I held my breath and flared. I released a little more energy than usual. I thought that might grab his attention and I kept a low vibe going, making it easier for him to find me.

  I frowned at my posture reflected in a mirror behind the bar. I needed to channel Sunny. She could look sophisticated in a pair of bunny slippers. I swiveled my hips around and leaned against the bar, exposing my legs to the open room.

  “You are one fine looking specimen,” a man with a southern drawl said.

  “Not interested.”

  I knew he was local by the tattered shirt that read: Bull riders do it in 8 seconds. He was also blocking my view, so I waved a dismissive hand.

  “Buy you a drink?”

  “No thanks.”

  “I ain’t seen you in here before. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”

  Inside those unfashionably tight jeans was a reason for me to throw a drink in his face. My skirt left a peek-a-boo opening in front, but with the black undies, you couldn’t see a thing. It still left the male mind to wander, and his mind didn’t just go astray, but fell off a goddamn cliff.

  “I’m gay.”

  “I’ll call your bluff.”

  “I’m not playing hard to get; I’m impossible to get. Why don’t you go chase the honey over there who’s eyeing your ass like gold?”

  His tan shirt stretched as he turned to look. He clucked his tongue. “Been there, done that.”

  There was no way to contain my frustrated sigh. “What do you want?”

  His finger pressed my knee, “Your legs over my shoulders.”

  “Good evening,” a voice interrupted. “Would you be so kind as to leave the premises immediately? Do so, and I
will allow you to return.” His accent was as smooth as ice cream—Italian ice cream.

  “Yeah? Says who?”

  “The owner of this establishment.”

  The cowboy wasn’t as dumb as he looked. He tucked his tail between his legs and turned away.

  I remembered Marco from the brief introduction Sunny gave me, but he didn’t look this polished. He was wearing jeans at the time, a detail I recall only because I spilled a drink on them. It was easy to see why Sunny fell for Marco; his hair was glossy black and he trimmed his beard close to his face—just a step above a five o’clock shadow. Thick eyebrows were dangerously close to joining in the middle, and his complexion was the most luminous shade of golden brown. The sun didn’t just kiss his skin—it made slow, passionate love to it. Everything about the way he dressed and smelled reminded me of Justus.

  Marco was definitely not my type.

  I didn’t make eye contact. Aloof was the way to go. He liked the chase, and I was going to give it to him.

  “I overheard your conversation. I cannot tolerate a man who lacks manners. Do tell me—impossible to get?” he smirked. “You challenge a man with those words, as you do the lesbian remark. Although, that is more of a cherry on the sundae. If you really want to know how to make a man lose interest, I can teach you the art of rejection.”

  I had a feeling this man rejected women all the time.

  “What would you have suggested?”

  “Pretend you’re interested, of course. Be sure to bore him with the details of your previous lovers, and your passion for scrapbooking. I am Marco De Gradi, and you are?”

  “Silver.”

  “You are welcome here, Mage. Business or pleasure?”

  “Is there a difference?” I mused, twisting around to face the bar again. “Do they serve Pinot here, or is it just another bar?”

  I had never tasted Pinot in my life, but I was following Justus’s orders. I was also staring at my white dress in the reflection and having second thoughts.

  “Allow me.” Marco snapped his finger and exchanged a nod with the bartender. He returned with two glasses and a bottle.

  “I think you’ll prefer this Burgundy.”

  I held the glass by the stem and let it slide down my throat. I probably should have swirled it, smelled it, or splashed it behind my ears. Damn Justus. I just couldn’t pull off sophistication.

  “Mmm, very nice,” I lied.

  He stroked the stem of his glass as if he had other things on his mind. Marco looked me over as if he appreciated what he saw, but the longer we talked, the more disinterested he became. Maybe looks weren’t enough. I didn’t dwell.

  “Is managing a bar your bread and butter?”

  One eye drooped. He felt the judgment in my tone. “I am an entrepreneur.”

  “Ah. Well, nice… bar.” I waved a hand.

  “You have a very wicked tongue. I collect many businesses—including three restaurants, a hotel, and an elite club.”

  That was his opportunity to boast, because Justus said he was a braggart. I peered at him over my shoulder. “Without the Mageri, funding for such investments becomes challenging, don’t you think?”

  Marco smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand. I was to raise suspicion without revealing all my cards; Simon called it cat and mouse tactics. In order to discuss the benefactor, we had to be alone. Marco needed time to become paranoid, and I knew I accomplished that goal when he began grinding his teeth.

  “Thank you again for the drink, Mr. De Gradi. I want to mingle for a while.”

  I shot him a cunning smile and eased out of my chair with practiced precision. With a slink of my hips, I immersed into the crowd to strike up a conversation with two women so he could dissect our conversation.

  It was strange talking to humans again, and I felt the disconnect Justus once mentioned. There’s a hardwired need to be around our own kind. Plus, I couldn’t relate to half of the TV shows and songs they mentioned.

  I wasted hours talking to strangers, hoping Marco would reappear. A few women complimented my expensive perfume, but not one man approached me. Logan was inconspicuously sitting in a booth, nursing a glass of brandy with his head kept low. He could have passed for a human the way he slumped over the table, face barely visible behind the long strands of hair.

  “Did you get lucky?” I sank in the leather seat across from him and grinned. “I didn’t hear a stampede.”

  “The night is still young,” he suggested, biting the rim of his glass.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Screw Justus and his insider tips; I guess I wasn’t Marco’s type. He didn’t chase me like they said he would, and I played hard to get.”

  “That I believe.”

  I wadded up a napkin and flicked it across the table.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” I turned my neck and looked up at an older man with stormy eyes. “Mr. De Gradi instructed me to deliver this message to you.”

  He placed a small envelope in my hand and walked away.

  “Open it.”

  I pinched the edges of the fine paper and pulled it out.

  You have made quite an impression—but no one is impossible.

  Dinner tomorrow at 8pm. Join me.

  —De Gradi

  I dipped my finger in the envelope and found a small business card with an address.

  “Thank God he’s not a breast man.”

  ***

  The city was ours for the rest of the evening. I rolled down the windows of our cheap maroon rental car and gave Logan a tour of my old stomping grounds. We drove by my old office, looked inside of my favorite ice cream parlor, and passed by the sandwich shop I used to hide away in. The car rolled to a stop on an old street lined with large oak trees. Jagged cracks ran along the sidewalks, and the mailboxes were in need of repair. I could almost see myself running across the lawn chasing fireflies.

  “Why are we here?” Logan asked. “Is there something special about this place?”

  I stared at the house across the street with pale green siding and a screen door. The pink crepe myrtles were in need of a trim, and two pots blushing with begonias sat on the front porch.

  Logan flipped off the lights and I got out of the car. The night air felt good against my skin and the honeysuckle was in bloom. Spring never felt more profound than it did in the south.

  I leaned against the door, tucking my hands under my arms, staring at my childhood home. God, how small it seemed. Logan stood beside me and stretched his arm over the hood.

  “What are we looking at?” he asked.

  All he saw was a house. All I saw were memories.

  “I had my first kiss by that window,” I said with a nostalgic smile. “His name was Danny, and he wore braces. Mom locked me outside to teach me a lesson, and I slept on that porch until dawn. When I was seven, I split my lip on a tire swing in the backyard, and I used to run through the sprinklers on hot summer afternoons. After I left home, I visited mom and helped her with the yard a lot. You’ve always been a Chitah, but I know what I’m missing out on.”

  “What of that life are you truly giving up?” he asked, leaning against the car.

  “Not having someone trying to kill me, for one.”

  “Humans are killed all the time,” he replied.

  “Having children.”

  He had no counter for that; Mage could not have children. I never really thought much about having kids, but having that option stolen from me brought an unexpected sadness.

  Logan rested his head on top of mine. When something brushed against my leg, I looked down, squinting in the dark.

  Meow? It asked.

  Two eyes looked up at me—one green and one yellow.

  “Max!”

  I scooped up the big cat in my arms, forgetting that I wasn’t Zoë anymore. Max didn’t like strangers; hell, that cat didn’t care much for anyone. He let out another demanding groan, and I jerked my neck back, worried he might take a swipe at me. Instead, Max loved me up wit
h an affectionate head-butt.

  “Looks like this one knows you.”

  I nuzzled my face in his fur. “What are you doing outside, panther boy? Doesn’t my mom know you’re an indoor cat?” I kissed his head and set him down.

  Max circled my feet and I smiled sadly. Logan squatted down and made a peculiar chirping sound that had an immediate reaction from Max, who rubbed against his knee as if they were old pals.

  Logan stood up with my cat in his arms, scratching his head. “Jiminy. He’s a big boy.”

  I brushed away the hairs from my face. “I can’t believe he knows me.”

  “He knows you because he loves you.”

  Logan flattened the soft ears with a single stroke. Seeing my cat sharpened the pain of the life I left behind—the person I once was. This trip was closure for me, something I needed.

  Max purred and I closed my eyes, reminiscing. The wind brushed through the trees and a cricket sang a one-note melody. It was a distant song of my forgotten life, drifting on the winds of my past. It was fading over time, becoming lost to me. One day—maybe hundreds of years from now—all of this would be gone. I lifted Max from Logan’s arms.

  “I’ll always love you.” I kissed his nose and placed him on the warm concrete. He looked up with those needy eyes, and before I became upset, I walked around the car and got inside.

  When the engine started, Max flashed across the road like a shadow and was gone. My heart sank, and I hoped he would have a good life with lots of tuna. I already knew my Ghuardian’s stance on pets, and he would never allow it. Perhaps he was right, and I had to let go.

  Logan rubbed the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand. “Tomorrow night when you meet with Marco, I’ll be outside on the grounds. I want you to stay near the windows.”

  “Just don’t blow my cover. I hope he still keeps in touch with the benefactor.”

  “Maybe you should look inside his drawers for Christmas cards.” Logan punched the accelerator and we headed back to the hotel.

  A television in my room was the equivalent of dying and going to heaven. I stayed up all night watching movies.

  In the morning, I ordered pancakes with sausages and slept until noon. Eventually, I shuffled out of bed and dragged my feet across the tight fibers of the carpet when something caught my eye. Sitting in front of the door was a white slip of paper. I reached down and snapped it up with two fingers.