Briana.
Chapter Three
One dance. What’s the worst that could happen?
This is what Briana got for listening to Emma. Drunk Emma. The one and only sorceress who was standing at the edge of the crowd, her mouth formed in a perfectly innocent O-shape. Next to her, Sorcha and Nessa high-fived each other.
Great.
As if she needed to hand her brothers another reason to give her a hard time. At best guess she had less than a minute to fix the situation or find herself facing the Pendragon Inquisition.
Briana stared down at the two men, really wishing they’d just stay on the floor.
She knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not when one of them was the same dragon who’d approached Sorcha earlier, and not when Briana had stupidly agreed to dance with him in the first place.
Without knowing anything else about the guy, she knew he wouldn’t just walk away after getting taken down by a female. Change had been even slower to infiltrate the immortal population, and the male superiority complex was very much alive.
Maybe she should have at least held back from shredding his wingman’s shirt when the shorter gargoyle had stepped in to cover his friend’s back.
Gods, what was wrong with her?
Dancing with anyone as though Lucan would care—much less notice—was beyond juvenile.
So what if the dragon had touched her ass? She could have walked away, could have warned him about losing a few talons before overreacting and throwing him to the floor.
She exhaled slowly. She could fix this, smooth things over with alcohol. A round of drinks—or three—on her and they could all forget the minor altercation—
Emma snatched a beer out of someone’s hand and held it up. “Fight. Fight. Fight.”
Sweet Avalon.
Where was Cian when Briana actually needed him? He needed to do something with his mate before she managed to incite a full-fledged brawl.
“Just hold on a second.” Sorcha stepped up next to her.
Thank the gods. At least someone was being sensible.
The ex-huntress surveyed the two gargoyles back on their feet. “You two need to decide who’s going to take her on first.”
What?
“Rock Paper Scissors?” Nessa offered helpfully.
Forget banning swords. These two were the real problem.
“I’m not fighting anyone,” Briana hissed at Sorcha.
Nessa pouted. “Bri, you need to fight or get laid. You’re wound tighter than my Slinky.”
Everyone was wound tighter than Nessa’s Slinky. “I’m fine.” Okay, maybe fine was a slight exaggeration with Twiddle Dee and Tweedle Dragon looking at their fists like they were contemplating Nessa’s suggestion.
Nessa pouted. “Every time I’ve dropped by to give Cale a hard time lately, you’ve been too busy tinkering with your cyber toys to hang out with Sorcha and me.”
Sorcha arched a brow at Nessa. “Cale? I thought you came by to see me?”
Briana sighed inwardly.
“Getting a rise out of Cale is just a perk.” Nessa grinned, but the smile vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
The two of them froze, and Briana’s cat growled a soft warning in her mind. Neither of the men opposite them had moved, and no other obvious threat was visible, yet…
“Stay with the lush.” Sorcha nodded to indicate their trouble-magnet sorceress, then she and Nessa melted into the crowd.
Oblivious to the potential problem, Emma took a swig of the beer in her hand, but the dragon had his head cocked as though he, too, felt something was off but couldn’t pinpoint it.
Only half the surrounding immortals seemed to notice. The rest were too busy shoving their tongues down each other’s throats.
And Briana thought Sorcha and Cale needed to get a room. Damn.
“Now I remember why the glyph looked familiar.” Emma beamed. “The Gauntlet.”
Briana gave her a blank look, trying to remember if that was supposed to mean something… Oh crap.
“How about you dance with someone who can handle a real wild cat like you?” An arm swept around Briana’s waist, drawing her back against a hard, sweaty body.
Distracted by Emma’s revelation, she managed to curb the cat’s instinctive response to do some damage, but the look on her face must have warned the other two gargoyles off. Like her friends, they disappeared into the crowd.
She would have been relieved except she’d already spotted her brothers making their way toward her. Great.
Driving her elbow into the meaty gut behind her, Briana managed to gain enough wiggle room to turn and face the moron who probably deserved to lose an arm for snapping her bra strap like a bratty twelve-year-old.
Or twenty-one-year-old. The human in front of her couldn’t be any older than that.
“Guess I don’t need to Rock Paper Scissors anyone for you.”
Definitely a moron.
“Look, buddy,” she began.
Someone put a hand on her shoulder. Out of patience, she spun and—taking a page out of Sorcha and Nessa’s book—led with her fist.
And nailed Lucan in the jaw.
Lucan’s head snapped back, the unexpected blow—and even more surprising, the force behind it—sending pain radiating up the side of his face.
Where the hell had that come from? He knew he had pissed her off—twice now—but he still hadn’t been expecting that. He wouldn’t have lowered his guard with anyone else, and yet every time he turned around Briana kept getting closer than he anticipated.
He rubbed his jaw, making sure she hadn’t dislocated anything. He definitely preferred her fussing over his injuries compared to her explosive right hook.
Straightening, he finally got a good look at her. “Briana?” She still looked human, but her claws were out and all he could pick up on when he met her gaze was pure, lethal predator.
“Bitch is crazy.” The kid behind her stumbled backward, but she didn’t acknowledge that she’d even heard him.
A smart move on the mortal’s part. Lucan really didn’t want to have to save the ignorant fool. He’d noticed how much of Briana’s animal half had surfaced in the parking lot, but that didn’t come close to the aggressive tension radiating from her now.
“He’s still standing. Couldn’t you have hit him a little harder?” Tristan squeezed past a couple who were too busy feeling each other up to make room for him, then stopped next to Lucan.
Briana snarled, positioning herself between him and Tristan.
“Whoa? What the hell did I do?” Tristan shot him a furious look over Briana’s shoulder, as though her overreaction was somehow Lucan’s fault.
They might not be on friendly terms, but he and Tristan were in complete agreement about this. What. The. Hell.
The feather-light tease of old magic pulsed under Lucan’s skin, a lazy, seductive beat, but with Briana looking ready to go for Tristan’s jugular, he ignored the sensation to deal with the problem at hand.
This was the exact situation he wanted to avoid in the first place. He knew how much she loved her brothers and that each of them would sacrifice anything to protect her. Although his own family had been dead for centuries, Lucan knew how important that bond was and he refused to see it threatened because of him.
Briana might believe she was doing the right thing by stopping old friends from fighting, but not like this. Immortals could theoretically live forever, but time was still an enemy, ruthlessly snatching away the moments to set things right.
Tristan was smart enough not to touch his sister. “Talk to me, B.”
“You are not going to hurt him.”
His attention darted to Lucan. “Is there something going on that I need to know?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Briana answered at the same time.
Not bothering to repeat himself—Tristan would never believe him over his own sister—Lucan stepped to the right.
Briana didn’t let him get far
, snagging his hand.
“Give her some room, bro.” Cian joined them, careful to give Briana a wide berth. He cocked his head, considering. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
Lucan frowned. He who?
Before Briana could respond—and Lucan was betting she wasn’t in much of a conversational mood—Cian spun around.
A short distance away, Emma stood smiling at her mate. The second Cian zeroed in on her, all concern for his sister melted away. Gaze locked on his mate, Cian’s expression revealed only…arousal?
What the hell were they serving in this place tonight?
“Cian?” Tristan waved his hand in front of his brother’s face.
Ignoring his brother, Cian crossed to Emma and scooped his mate over his shoulder. She giggled and gave them a little wave as Cian carried her away without a backward glance.
Tristan threw his hands up. “Is everyone losing their fucking minds?”
Tracking Cian’s progress to the stairs leading to the office, Lucan voiced the one question that wouldn’t leave him alone. “Who was Cian talking about?”
“What?”
“When he said to Briana, ‘He’s here’.”
“I think you have me confused with someone in the know.”
Something small and black flew past them and landed on the floor near their feet. Tristan picked it up, letting the lacy black bra dangle from his finger tip.
“You guys bring in some new entertainment tonight?” Lucan asked, noticing another piece of lingerie land on the stage at the foot of the lead guitarist.
“In what universe do you think Sorcha would ever let Cale get away with something like that?”
“Good point.”
Judging by the frown on Tristan’s face, the cat didn’t want to be in agreement about anything. “We need to go.” He reached for Briana.
Lucan felt the tension slice through her like it was his own, and snatched her hand away before she raked her claws down her brother’s chest.
Tristan stared at her hand. “Briana?”
A look of horror crossed her face, and she spun away from Tristan.
“Hey,” Lucan coaxed, tugging gently to get her attention.
Her fingers curled around his wrist and she turned her body into his, hiding her face in his chest. The hold she had on him was both vulnerable and intimately possessive. Rising up on her tiptoes, she murmured something that sounded like, “Better,” and drew her forefinger along his jaw.
A shiver raced up his spine. He fought the urge to close his eyes and concentrate fully on her touch, all too conscious of Tristan glaring at him. If not for the cat looking like he was ready to rip Lucan’s throat out, he might have leaned into the palm curving his cheek.
And why would he be that stupid?
The question drifted through his mind, but the longer he stood next to her, the less he cared about it being a bad idea.
Briana bit her lip, drawing his attention straight to the mouth he had no business staring at, let alone entertaining wicked thoughts about. How many times had he wondered if her breath would still catch right before he kissed her?
Tristan eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp enough to tear Lucan open from neck to navel. “Take your hands off her.”
Briana snarled and locked one arm around Lucan’s back, the message to her brother crystal clear—no one was separating them. Not without a fight.
Trying hard to ignore the sluggish warmth trickling into his bloodstream like a narcotic, Lucan scanned the room for an objective third party and came up empty.
“Look, whatever is happening is affecting her too.” If he kept talking, maybe he wouldn’t think about using his mouth for anything else.
“And what if it starts affecting you?”
If Tristan hadn’t realized it already was—that it was likely affecting all of them—then Lucan wouldn’t be stupid enough to point it out.
“I’m fine.” For now. Later was definitely up in the air. “You need to find Mac and figure out what the hell is going on.” Cale and Cian would be useless with their mates distracting them.
The crowd had filled in the space created during Briana’s showdown with the dragon, most of the surrounding people in various stages of kissing and groping each other.
“Sure,” Tristan snapped. “I’ll just send up a flare and hope he spots it.”
The longer they stood there, the more people joined the action. In less than ten seconds two T-shirts and a pair of underwear hit the floor. And that was only in the immediate vicinity.
Tristan shuddered and tossed away the boxers that hit his shoulder. “Jesus.”
Ten minutes tops and almost everyone in here would be naked. Lucan’s own clothing clung to his skin, weighing him down.
“Even the music has stopped.” Tristan’s voice barely registered. Lucan was too busy tugging at his shirt, seeking any kind of reprieve from the smothering material.
Stopping him, Briana slid her hand up his arm, curling her fingers around his biceps.
“I should probably stay with her…” Tristan trailed off, scanning the room for something and not finding it. His mate probably. “You could probably find Mac faster than I could.”
Again, Briana twisted around to growl at her brother. Lucan gripped her waist in case she lunged at him.
Tristan held up his hands. “Or not.”
Seemingly satisfied with her brother’s response, she leaned back against Lucan and tipped her head up.
“I’ve got her.” He said it without looking away from Briana, already half-drunk on the vibrant blue eyes watching him so intently.
“Don’t even think that I’m leaving her alone with you.”
Lucan had already won the argument. Tristan just didn’t know it yet.
Despite the teasing sweep of her finger across the top of his hand, Briana was very much still paying attention to the conversation and rolled her eyes. “Go.”
Tristan glanced between the pair of them. “So help me, if any of her clothes come off…” The unfinished threat hung between them.
“They won’t. She’ll be safe with me.”
“Vow it, wraith.”
“I give my word.”
Tristan looked less than convinced, but his attention kept wandering. “If anything happens to her, I’ll shove your sword so far up your ass it will tickle your fucking tonsils.” He lingered another few seconds, though Lucan didn’t notice the exact moment he disappeared into the crowd.
Briana had turned and twined her arms around his neck, fitting her body snuggly into his. “Dance with me.”
“I need to get you out of here.” He vaguely recalled that was part of the plan. However, leaving would mean sacrificing the feel of her molded so perfectly to him.
Briana smiled, slow and sexy, and shook her head. “We should stay. Dance.” She went up on her tiptoes and her cheek grazed his.
“There’s no music playing.”
Her fingers raked the ends of his hair, and he damn well knew that wasn’t part of the plan.
“We don’t need music for the kind of dancing I have in mind.”
The air around him grew thicker, hotter. If his clothes felt uncomfortable before, now they rubbed his skin like sandpaper.
“This way.” Grinning, she laced her fingers through his, tugging him away from the stripping masses. More than once they had to step over people already on the floor, tearing at each other’s clothes.
Mac?
Lucan watched his friend disappear down the corridor ahead of them and guided Briana in the same direction. With every step the drugging sensation of magic turned his thoughts a little fuzzier.
He glanced down at their linked hands, keenly aware of how soft and small her fingers felt intertwined with his own. He tightened his grip, and felt his chest expand when she squeezed back.
They hadn’t been this close in centuries. Everything since then had changed—except the way he felt about her. The girl she’d been had teased without malice, explored without f
ear, shared without expecting anything in return.
But the woman…she tested boundaries, laughed without restraint, loved fiercely.
And he couldn’t figure out how he’d made it through the centuries without her.
“Luc?”
Stepping into the pool of florescent light beyond the Employees Only sign, he paused long enough to look at Briana—and stopped in his tracks.
Forget Tristan and Mac. Forget the whole damn club.
Nothing was as important as being with her. Only the certainty they’d find a room along the corridor ahead stopped him from pressing her against the wall and seeing if her mouth tasted like peaches. The sweet scent had been driving him crazy since they’d left Tristan behind—
Fuck.
He closed his eyes. There wouldn’t be any tasting of anything. He’d promised she’d be safe with him. Betraying Tristan’s trust after all they’d been through was unthinkable.
After what he’d done, he’d have to be out of his mind to sabotage the very weak truce with the Callaghan brothers by giving into his attraction to a woman he would only hurt.
He needed to get Briana outside. Now.
In front of the last door before the exit, she stopped him. “Lucan?”
Would the sound of his name on her lips forever be a silken sweep of breath across the back of his neck? Getting space between them seemed the only sensible move, but everything about retreating from her felt…wrong.
She didn’t give him a choice. “Wait.” She hooked a finger in the waistband of his cargo pants and tugged.
His knees bumped hers and he flattened his hand against the door beside her head. It bought him just a couple of inches—not nearly enough with her body so warm and welcoming.
She trailed a hand up his chest, the path of her fingers sinking into the shirt he half wanted her to tear off him.
No, he corrected a second later, there was no half about it.
Alone with her for only two minutes and he’d never been so tempted to go back on his word. He’d sworn to keep her safe, but even he knew that sheltering her with his body didn’t count as keeping his vow.
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