The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2

by Trisha Telep

  “He’ll come,” Sam assured her. “Didn’t the Chaser tell you so?”

  “Yeah, she did.” Rinna had taken a huge risk approaching the Shadowchaser, especially given the circumstances in which they’d first met. Besides, Shadowchasers were a hybrid’s version of the boogeyman, a tale used to frightened the young. All she’d heard growing up was that Shadowchasers hunted hybrids and Shadowlings, trapping or killing them on sight. And that they loved to munch on young misbehaving banrings. It didn’t matter what you did or didn’t do, the fact that you existed made you the Shadowchaser’s enemy.

  She’d learned that wasn’t the case, thanks to Bale. She’d learned a lot of things, thanks to the male banaranjan.

  Two Years Earlier

  A pulsing beat thundered through all three tiers of the DMZ’s main room, forcing Rinna’s heart to keep pace. It was a great night to party. It was an even better night to hunt.

  Not that she needed to hunt. Many banaranjans made do with synthesized human adrenaline delivered via autoinjectors or served over dry ice in mixed-clientele clubs like the DMZ. It did what it needed to do, but nothing compared to sampling the epinephrine directly from the source. In a place like this, there were always plenty of volunteers around.

  The Goth club looked like a cross between the Roman Coliseum and a factory from the start of the Industrial Revolution, perfect for its diverse clientele. Those who walked in Light gathered on Rinna’s left, though all three levels seemed sparsely lit with the blue-violet-white flickers that denoted Light beings. Maybe they’re all at a convention, she thought.

  On the right, occasional flashes of yellow lit the deep dark of the Shadow side of the club. Plenty of beings on that side, Rinna noted. Most club-goers, human and otherwise, spilled over the middle ground between the two camps, the most neutral of the neutral territory inside the club.

  Finding a nightspot that catered to hybrids and humans alike had been essential to her successful relocation to Atlanta – that and the Majestic, of course. The DMZ was a demilitarized zone masquerading as a bar that allowed anyone, of any walk of life, to enter as long as they didn’t draw weapons. Rinna couldn’t see the protective shielding that radiated from every bit of the club’s infrastructure, but she could feel it. She knew it was quick to take care of anyone careless enough to display aggression. Rumour had it that even the Shadowchaser had to remove her weapons before she entered.

  Rinna wasn’t sure about that, but if it was true, it only confirmed her belief that she’d made the right choice relocating to Atlanta. A diverse club, the lack of a major banaranjan community and the presence of a Gilead Commission unit meant Rinna had a chance of a decent home and a reasonable life expectancy. Much better odds than where she’d been before.

  Rinna took a final sip of her cocktail before discarding the plastic cup. She hoped she looked like most of the human females in there. Strappy stilettos, form-fitting jeans and a blouse with a plunging neckline seemed to be standard-issue attire for most of the women. It had taken months to perfect her human persona, practising in secret then making clandestine trips to test her abilities. Once she could pass for human and feed without detection, she’d made her escape.

  Rinna leaned over the rail that ringed the first level. A live band played on a round stage in the centre of the club. The Pit circled the stage, a seething maelstrom of Shadow and darkness in which the DMZ’s non-aggression rules didn’t apply. Anywhere else in the club, if you drew weapons or called your power, wards would flash an orange warning, giving the perpetrator about two seconds to dial down or die. In the Pit, however, hybrids were given free rein, as long as no one got killed. Humans could go into the Pit too, but not without a little hassle. Since Rinna had been visiting the DMZ, she’d never seen a Light being enter the cauldron of violence. The humans who dared to had to sign a waiver before descending the stairs to the gated entrance.

  She breathed deep, eyes sliding closed. Adrenaline wafted through the air, not enough to attempt to filter. For that, she needed more humans in the Pit or one male to show interest. She exhaled, releasing a simple banaranjan pheromone lure, and waited.

  “Hey.”

  She turned away from the railing. A human male with spiky blond hair, pale jeans and a dark navy shirt smiled at her, the prerequisite bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. Nice.

  “Hi yourself.” She smiled, revving up her charm. Draw him in slowly, then get his heart racing.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sweet.”

  The club was too crowded to move further along the dance floor, so they carved out a bit of room along the rail. Rinna lifted her arms and gave herself over to the frenetic music pouring from the stage. She kept the unnamed blond in her sights, smiling and flirting while dancing close, spiking his adrenaline.

  He leaned forward, careful not to spill his beer. “My name’s Cade.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cade,” she called out over the lead singer’s growling vocals. She leaned close, brushing her body against his. “My name’s Rinna.”

  His heart pounded loud enough for her to hear it. “Rinna. A cool name for a hot chick.”

  She laughed. “Does that line get you laid a lot?”

  He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It may be a line, but it’s still true.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched from the contact, then sighed. Rinna knew humans felt something between fear and pleasure from a banaranjan’s touch, an involuntary reaction to the epinephrine flooding their system.

  The hormone was ambrosia to a banaranjan, not necessary to live, but coveted all the same. While many of her kind had no problem scaring adrenaline out of humans, Rinna much preferred to seduce a rush from her “samplers”.

  Cade trembled again. They had moved closer to the safety barrier that prevented dancers from accidentally falling into the Pit. Rinna pressed against him, running her hands over his back just above his kidneys. “So Cade . . . have you ever been down in the Pit?”

  His heart triple-beat in his chest, and another burst of adrenaline hit his blood. Delicious.

  “Sure, babe. I go in all the time,” he said, false bravado clear in his voice. “What about you?”

  She pinned him with a stare, hoping her eyes hadn’t flickered yellow with excitement. “I’ve gone in a couple of times. It’s a surreal experience.”

  “Yeah.” Something flitted across his expression, something apprehensive, dark, and excited. “It’s definitely something else.”

  Rinna nodded, but decided to trust his body instead of his words. People had called her type adrenaline junkies long before extreme sports became vogue. While banaranjans didn’t need adrenaline for daily sustenance, it was a necessary component of their survival. She didn’t think humans needed to jump out of airplanes or fight bulls or watch horror movies, but they did. When they did, banaranjans were there to collect the carelessly released adrenaline for themselves.

  Cade was probably an adrenaline junkie. He certainly looked the part with his carelessly spiked hair and athletic build. Rinna had seen plenty of guys like him base jumping, free climbing, and free running. It was all about the rush, the brush with death. For these junkies, if there wasn’t a near fatality, they didn’t feel alive.

  If Cade wanted a brush with death, Rinna would be happy to oblige him.

  He jerked his head toward the Pit. “Wanna go in?”

  Rinna sucked in a breath. Enough humans had finally entered the Pit to spike the thick club air with the musky sweetness of adrenaline and other hormones. She could filter more if she went in herself, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not that she couldn’t hold her own; she knew how to get in, get what she wanted, then get out. But there were plenty of hybrids and Shadowlings in the black maelstrom who would be thrilled to fight her for her human companion. Plenty of beings much bigger, much meaner, and much more disposed to push the club rules.

  The music crescendoed, then stopped. Rinna t
urned toward the stage, cheering and applauding with the other club-goers. “Looks like it’s last call,” Rinna told Cade. “People are coming out of the Pit.”

  They watched, silent, as several humans staggered up the stairs to the main floor. Ripped shirts were the least of the injuries. One man had to be helped up the stairs by two others, the left side of his head bloodied. Club employees immediately gathered to help the humans to small recovery rooms out of sight.

  A quick movement caught Rinna’s attention. She looked over Cade’s shoulder, her gaze falling on a darkly handsome man in a rust-coloured shirt coming up from the Pit. Where most of the others staggered and clearly showed evidence of the brutal experience the Pit could be, this male looked as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed his time in the lawless underbelly of the club.

  As if he felt her gaze, the man turned to look at her. Rinna didn’t need the yellow glint in his black eyes to tell her he was a hybrid. Tiny hairs stood up along her arms, and her own heart kicked into a faster rhythm.

  He was a banaranjan, gorgeous and in his prime. She’d seen him around the club before, but she’d always kept her distance. She had no way of knowing his clan affiliation, which meant she had no way of knowing whether he was friend or enemy. Since she’d come to Atlanta specifically to escape confrontations like that, she’d decided avoiding the male banaranjan was prudent.

  Apparently he had a different opinion. His gaze flicked to her left, to the human beside her. If the menacing frown was any indication, the male banaranjan didn’t like what he saw. He changed direction, making his way towards them.

  By Hetache’s flame, no, Rinna thought. She did not want to be intercepted by this guy, or the DMZ’s security wards. It was time to go.

  Cade’s heart rate increased, distracting Rinna from the other banaranjan approaching. The blond man’s expression balanced somewhere between fear and aggression. “Friend of yours?”

  Rinna blinked, turned her attention back to the irritated human. “Not even.”

  “Good to know.” He caught her hand, his smile returning. “This is supposed to be the part where I ask for your phone number so I can call you later. But that would mean saying goodbye, and I’m not ready for that yet.”

  Rinna hid a smile. She hadn’t put out a strong lure, but she hadn’t needed to. If she were into humans, this man would be high on her list of suitors. She hadn’t taken in nearly enough adrenaline to satisfy her craving, but she wasn’t a fool. She had no intention of going any farther than the parking lot with the handsome blond, but getting away from the other banaranjan was definitely a good idea. “Neither am I.”

  “Awesome. What do you say I buy you breakfast or a cup of coffee at the Majestic?”

  Rinna considered it for a hot second. There was only one place to go after a night of feeding off human energy at the DMZ: the Majestic. At three a.m., a good mix of humans and hybrids crowded the landmark twenty-four-hour diner in Virginia-Highland, most drunk on one thing or another. It was unofficial neutral ground after midnight, simply because most patrons were too tired, too hungry, or too high to be confrontational.

  “Sure. A little Majestic sounds good.”

  They made their way through the middle doors, joining the bulk of the crowd making its way out of the bar. The sky hung dark and glittering above the DMZ’s protective shields, tinged fluorescent orange by the city’s ambient light. It was one of those travelogue-worthy spring nights in Atlanta in which the pollen count was down but the temperature was up. It was close to three in the morning, the time when Normals relinquished the night to the things that liked to “go bump”.

  Cade surveyed the mix of club-goers clogging the sidewalk – an eclectic mix of hybrids that passed as human and humans who looked liked hybrids.

  They headed southeast from the club, leaving others behind. The club’s parking lots filled quickly most nights, and Rinna had learned to park a couple of blocks away to avoid the traffic dumping out on to North Avenue. The distance made it easy to determine if someone had followed her out of the club, and it enabled her a final chance to walk through throngs of club-goers to filter their hormones one last time.

  Rinna kept her attention on Cade’s adrenaline levels. His excitement was a palpable thing, filling the air between them. She breathed deeply, drawing the heady pheromone into her throat. So tasty. Much better than that stale, synthetic stuff.

  “There’s something about you, Rinna,” Cade said softly, his face turned up to the sky. “Something that tells me you’re different from other women in the club.”

  “Thank you.”

  He scrubbed at his gelled hair. “I mean, when I saw you, I was like, ‘whoa’. I mean, you’re hot, smoking hot, but it’s more than that.”

  She could tell. His heart was beating at a rapid pace, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breath. “Uhm, is there a compliment in there or something?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He darted a look at her. “Back in the club, you touched me, and I felt like I’d just nailed a front double cork.”

  “I figured you were a sports fanatic. So what’s a snowboarder doing in Atlanta when there’s still plenty of snow on the ground up north?”

  “I like all kinds of action,” he told her. “Not just on snow.”

  “Only extreme sports, or an adrenaline junkie too?”

  “Both.” He spread his hands. “Among other things. What about you?”

  “I’m not into sports beyond watching them, and I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”

  “So what are you then?”

  She slowed her steps. “Excuse me?”

  He stopped, turned to face her. “Come on, Rinna. You go to the DMZ, a place that’s a little dicey most of the time. You say you’ve been in the Pit, a place that nobody but daredevils or drunks taking a dare would go into.”

  He brushed his cheek along hers, sniffed. “And that perfume works better than anything else I’ve ever inhaled. I’m betting you’re not human.”

  By Hetache’s flaming nostrils. Rinna knew the human male was unusual, but most of them, after discovering they weren’t at the top of the food chain, either tried to run or tried to kill. Or, in an effort to show how open and progressive they were, they asked way too many personal questions.

  Cade just stood there, the carefree frat boy demeanour gone. “I know humans aren’t it,” he said, his voice even. “I’ve travelled a lot, seen a lot more. It’s cool with me if you’re not human. I just wanted to know what you are exactly.”

  “You’re an unusual human,” she finally said. “As for me, I’m a banaranjan.”

  “A banaranjan.” He nodded. “What sort of demon is that?”

  “I’m not a demon, I’m a being born of this earth just as you are,” she insisted, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. Human prejudices lasted long past their short lifespan. “Banaranjans are a race of beings who need to sample a little adrenaline now and then.”

  She didn’t really feel like sharing too much with the strange human. One just couldn’t predict what he’d do with the knowledge. She only knew the stories her crèche mother had told her, mainly horror stories to ensure her obedience. None of the tales involving humans and hybrids ended well, which was why most of the supernatural community preferred living in secret. Humans couldn’t even get along with other humans. Every hybrid knew what would happen if the general population discovered the truth. Humans craved knowledge, but given the chance to create or destroy, most of the time they’d destroy.

  Eagerness lit Cade’s expression. “So you’re adrenaline feeders. Do you take it like vampires drink blood?”

  The night was going south like a runaway freight train. Her need to feed dissipated on the warm night air. She stopped beneath the dark bare branches of a large oak, a couple of blocks from the club, in an area that quickly gave way to empty buildings and overgrown lots. She was unwilling to go any farther with the human. All she wanted now was to go home. Alone. “I don’t attack people, and I definitely do
n’t bite. I only take what’s freely given.”

  He snorted. “Yeah. I bet the people you’re chomping on don’t see it that way. Doesn’t matter to me, though. I still think we can do this, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and me. Hooking up.”

  Rinna’s stomach knotted. “No. By the Dark Abyss, no.” She’d be better off with the male banaranjan.

  “Why not?” He stepped closer to her. Even in the late night darkness, she could see that his features had tarnished into something bare and ugly. Even his adrenaline didn’t taste the same. “I like to feel adrenaline hitting my blood. You can make me feel that, you can feed off it. It’s the perfect symbiotic relationship.”

  She backed up a step. If she had to defend herself, she’d need room. “Sorry, Cade. I’m not into fetish fulfilment. If you just wanted to get with a hybrid for bragging rights, you should have picked someone else.”

  He looked crestfallen, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. “That’s a shame. Guess I’ll have to get my rush some other way.”

  “I guess so.” Rinna backed away, wondering how she’d made such a screwed-up choice. Too focused on the hormone and not the human. “Good night.”

  “It was nice dancing with you. See you around.” He turned, heading back towards the club.

  Rinna watched him head off, then turned and resumed her walk to her car, angry with herself. She should have just sifted for epinephrine in the club, but no, she had to have a direct source. From now on, she’d attend a couple of sporting events when she needed to feed, and learn to like the taste of the synthesized stuff.

  The blond’s adrenaline was strong though. So potent. It would have been nice to have a steady source like that. Then again, the guy was an admitted adrenaline junkie. No telling what extremes he’d go to just to—

  She had just a split-second to react. She spun down in a crouch, hissing a warning, wings bursting from her shoulder blades.