by Michele Hauf
He smelled different. But what about him was unique?
Drawing a soft breath through her nose, Aby discerned the faint masculine odor wafting from his direction. That was it. One simple scent. He was clean. No tobacco, alcohol or chemicals that tainted every living being in the world. Not a definitive food odor that usually lingered even on the most fastidious.
“Odd,” Aby murmured.
And yet, too intriguing for her curious nature to ignore.
She glided toward the bar, but remained parallel to the man. Gracious as she liked to be to Severo’s friends, she didn’t approach handsome strangers out of the blue. And this man definitely ranked high on the handsome scale.
Tall, he looked as if he could see over the heads of everyone in the ballroom. Narrow dark denim emphasized long legs. The cowboy boots were perhaps too scuffed for this elite crowd. And spurs?
Maybe he was some kind of Wild West entertainer hired for the evening? Severo did like westerns.
A tousle of brown hair dusted his ears and coat collar. Broad shoulders gave Aby a shudder as she wondered at his strength. Strong men always tempted her to look twice.
He was definitely not the glitzy charity-ball type. So what brought him here this evening? Was he alone or with a date?
Aby sucked in her lower lip. There was something about a man who absolutely filled the space he stood in—yet went beyond, as if his aura could not be contained and crept out at the edges.
His eyes scanned the room, stopping first at the bar, and then finally, he looked right at Aby.
The room heated measurably, and yet beneath the thin green silk Aby’s nipples tightened. His gaze wasn’t accidental; rather, it was determined. Maybe predatory. That put her on guard.
Yet inquisitiveness kept her stare fixed on him.
The scent of him heightened. He’d found what he was looking for, and his body reacted by pulsing adrenaline through his system.
Me? she wondered. Had he wanted me?
She had no idea who he was. But she’d find out. Curiosity and the cat thing.
Striding forward, Aby was aware her hips sashayed and her steps moved her like a feline. Of course.
She could track the man with her eyes closed, but he hadn’t dropped her gaze, nor did she feel the need to drop his.
It was when a new scent intruded, deep within the tendrils of his clean odor, that Aby paused. It was dark. Malevolent.
Was he human?
He smelled like it. And yet, something clung at the blurry edges of his being. An otherworldly charge. It wasn’t enough to make her retreat. She could handle all sorts, and could determine paranormals from humans with ease, though she usually couldn’t determine what type of paranormal.
She actually preferred paranormals to humans. They were more understanding of her, as she was of them.
The bartender set a shot glass of cloudy green liquid before the man. A slotted spoon rested over the glass rim, topped with a melting sugar cube.
Aby slid onto the stainless-steel stool beside the one he stood closest to. She loved the smell of anise. He must be drinking absinthe. How decadent.
“And for the lady?” the bartender asked.
“Whatever she desires,” the man said in a raspy voice that reminded her of cool winter nights snuggled in a fuzzy wool sweater.
“Cream with a touch of grenadine,” Aby said, and didn’t turn to face him.
Winter nights? Oh, Aby, you’re such a dreamer. The last time she’d gotten some sexy snuggle time was—never.
Six horizontal neon bars gleamed behind the bar in varying shades of blue. Aby didn’t like the color, nor, she guessed, did it grant her complexion the best glow.
“Cream,” he said. “That’s a new one.”
“With grenadine,” she added lightly. “I like it to be pink.”
His smile wasn’t at all mirthful. “Name’s Max. And you are Aby.”
That he spoke her name as fact pricked at the base of her spine.
Perhaps he’d spoken to someone here who knew her. A slim chance. Though she was amiable, she didn’t go around shaking everyone’s hands and introducing herself.
She scanned her memory for the man’s face. Dark eyes, maybe blue, and a strong nose above nicely bowed lips. A shadow of stubble darkening his jaw and upper lip. Scruffy bangs over one brow. Styling products had never seen that head of sexy, carefree hair.
Nope, never seen him before. Which didn’t mean much. Aby led a sheltered life.
The absinthe sat untouched before the man.
“Gorgeous dress,” he said. “The color suits you. I like green.”
Of course he did. If she had been wearing blue, she could guess he’d prefer that color. Just because she wasn’t experienced didn’t make her stupid.
“I saw your picture.”
Aby tilted her head down. Severo had not been pleased when she’d agreed to pose for Wesley, but it had made her feel so free and utterly sensual. “And what did you think of it?”
“Cat’s ears and tail, and some sexy slip of black lace? I don’t think there’s a man in the room who wouldn’t find it attractive.”
She didn’t like his answer. It was less than personal. What did he think?
Aby sipped the pale pink cream from the wine goblet.
This didn’t feel right. She should walk away and find Severo.
And yet, the stranger smelled so interesting. A girl could lose her sense of right and wrong from an enticing scent. Happened all the time. Hell, some claimed to fall in love at first sniff.
But Aby didn’t know about that. She knew love—the friendly, family kind. Romantic love? That was a mystery she’d like to solve.
“How do I know you, Max? What is your last name?”
“Maximilien Fitzroy. Whatever you’ve heard of me, don’t worry, I’m just here to talk.”
She hadn’t heard of him, but should she have?
“Just call me Max. I have a business proposition.”
“Do you now?” Aby saucily stared into his deep-blue eyes. No answers there, very emotionless, in fact. “Seems you know more about me than I you.”
“I know you’re a familiar, and that’s why I’ve come looking for you.”
She was a familiar, and familiars bridged demons to this realm. Which meant…
“Not interested,” Aby said abruptly. She should have followed her intuition. He was just another man who wanted something from her.
“You haven’t heard what I have to say.”
“I know the only reason someone would come looking for a familiar, and I’m not interested.”
Because any business he had in mind would mean he wouldn’t be available to her on a more personal level.
Standing and extricating herself, Aby slid a thigh against the man’s leg as she did so. Taut and firm. Oh, but his clean scent dizzied her.
Which was why she had to move away from him. Now.
The room had suddenly burst into flame. Imaginary heat licked at her skin. Aby strode toward the mirrored hallway as quickly as her five-inch heels would allow.
He followed. She couldn’t shake his scent.
“Will you at least hear me out?”
“Not interested,” she called, but he’d already caught up and now walked at her side. “Find another familiar to do your dirty work.”
The tinging sound of an elevator announced an arriving couple, who exited laughing and holding hands. Aby veered left and boarded. The doors closed, but a hand fit between them. Max pushed open the doors and stepped inside, blocking her exit as the doors slid shut behind him.
Mercy, but she didn’t like enclosed spaces. Especially small spaces that harbored danger. And his clean scent wasn’t natural, nor was the dark edge.
“You’re frightening me,” she said, trying to stay calm.
Prickles sparked up her spine. Her muscles tensed. Soon her claws would come out.
But eighteen floors to go, and she could flee. She knew a few high kicks, but tho
se only worked on the unsuspecting and the weak. This man was a head taller than she and he absolutely oozed strength.
“I don’t mean to scare you, Aby, but I need you to listen to me. To at least hear me out before you refuse me.”
He pressed a hand high on the fabric wall over her head. Sensing he would block her in, Aby slinked sideways. He sighed and dropped his head, his back and shoulder to her.
“I need to summon a demon,” he said. “I’ve heard you’re the best. I’ll pay any price.”
Any price? Well, she was the best. Only because her species dwindled daily. Not a lot of competition out there.
“There are a half a dozen familiars in the country who can do the job for a few thousand. Why me?”
“I don’t want to piss around with amateurs. I need a guarantee. Someone I can trust. And I don’t want to bring in a witch. I’ll work directly with you to summon the demon.”
“Oh, really?”
The nerve of the man. The prickles pinging her spine persisted. Everything was too sharp, too clear. Her pupils dilated when threatened, which enhanced her vision. But it was too much now.
Fisting a hand at her hip, she stepped up to the towering slayer. “So, what you’re asking is for me to bridge a demon, and…you want to have sex with me all night long?”
“Yes. No.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Not like that.”
“But you know what is required for a familiar to bridge a demon?”
“I know. You have to be sexually sated.”
“And you think you’re the man to do it for me?”
She scoffed and turned away from him. Twelve more floors to go. Damn, this was a slow elevator.
He’d said he wanted someone he could trust. But he didn’t know her! What kind of double-talk was he working on her?
“It’s for me,” he said. His sigh dusted her shoulder. The warm breath tingled, entered her being and awakened…something. “I need to get a nasty demon off my back.”
So that was the scent she detected limning his peculiarly clean odor.
“I’m retired.” Aby turned and, leaning against the wall, offered a forced calmness. It was difficult to be too standoffish when the man was so delicious.
Sex all night with this one?
It could never happen the way she’d like it to go. Summoning demons was her job. Sex was a job. And she didn’t want to associate work of any kind with this appealing man.
Punching the wall, he startled her. “Listen. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live for two and a half centuries?”
His eyes burned now, half lidded and yet so volatile. Aby slid closer to the control panel.
“That’s two hundred and fifty years,” he reiterated and tracked her movements with a deft sidestep. “I’ve walked this earth alone and frustrated, unable to satisfy the few basic desires necessary to all men.”
The heaviness of his gaze slinked down her face and settled on her shoulders. Aby inhaled. His attention slipped to her breasts, jutting high beneath the thin green silk. It wasn’t a lewd look, but rather she felt as if he were giving her something precious. Acknowledgment.
“Y-you’re scaring me, Max. What the hell are you?”
“I’m human,” he answered easily. “But immortal. There’s a demon shadow inside me. I want it out.”
“Is that why you can’t satisfy your desires?”
He leaned in, hot breath whispering over her breasts. The man tickled his gaze along her neck, as if her flesh were the one thing in this world that could satisfy his unmet desires.
His mouth paralleled hers. Aby’s breaths came light and fast. Would he kiss her?
When his eyes found hers, wide pupils darkened his gaze. Desperation frightened her to reality. No kisses, she told herself. Not from a man she didn’t know.
Poor guy. Immortality was a bitch. Especially when denied the pleasures most took for granted.
Still. “Look, I can give you the contact information for a familiar in New Orleans. She’s very good—”
He slammed his fist into the wall over her head. Aby chirped nervously.
“I’m here,” he said, leaning in close to her face. “I’ve got ten thousand dollars in my pocket.”
“You can’t buy a screw with me. I said I’m retired.” Sort of a lie, but he intimidated her. She didn’t like the feeling.
He gripped her by the shoulders.
The elevator landed with an announcing ding. The doors opened, and an angry growl prompted Max to let go of Aby.
She moved, but Max was too fast. He blocked the exit with his broad frame and determined stance. But she needn’t see to know who waited in the hall.
The werewolf stepped forward and yanked Max from the elevator by his coat lapels.
“Severo!” Aby cried.
Chapter 2
M ax’s shoulders connected with the wall. His spurs skidded along the marble floor. The growl from the man who had done the shoving didn’t sound human.
Then again, Max knew he wasn’t human. He guessed if the man weren’t wearing a long-sleeved suit coat the hairs on his arms would be upright.
Max knew what he was. A werewolf. He didn’t hate them, but he didn’t like them, either. They usually ran in packs and he often found them at biker bars in the summertime. A wise man never turned his back on a werewolf unless he had a pocket full of silver.
What was this one doing at a fancy charity ball? Protecting a familiar? That didn’t compute, because cats and dogs did not mix.
“You bothering Aby?” the wolf said with barely masked vitriol. His dark eyes held a wicked threat Max had seen far too many times—and he never liked it. “You okay, Aby?”
“Yes, Severo, let him down. He was asking me about doing a job. I said I wasn’t interested.”
Released, Max went for the whip at his hip. He fingered the braided leather handle.
“You touch that, asshole,” the werewolf said with a growl, “I eviscerate you.”
Max winced. “You’re not the friendly sort, are you?”
He slid the hand from his hip, shrugging his shoulders and forcing calm through his muscles. The air hummed with aggression. He wasn’t here for a fight. The wolf couldn’t handle what Max could give him.
“Who are you?” the one Aby had called Severo asked. “Why are you here when a smart man should know you don’t approach a familiar in such a manner?”
“Just trying to talk nicely with her. Don’t want to cause trouble.”
But please, give me trouble so I can knock you down.
Severo nodded toward the whip. “You use that to remove demons’ heads?”
“It’ll take off a wolf’s head, too.”
A claw stopped short of slicing open Max’s chin. Aby held Severo’s arm, straining to keep him from attack.
The whip unfurled.
The wolf shuffled backward as if he’d been stung. “Hell.” He shoved Aby behind him. “You’re the Highwayman.”
“What?” Aby peeked over the wolf’s shoulder.
“The one I’ve warned you about, Aby.” He looked over Max, taking in the whip, his attire. “Am I correct?”
Max tucked the whip at his hip, showing he wasn’t about to let this escalate in front of a female. “My reputation tends to precede me.”
Aby gasped. “Oh, gods.”
Her fingers clutched the werewolf’s arm. She’d gone from sexy tease to a frightened little girl in the flick of a whip.
“She said she isn’t interested,” Severo ground through a tight jaw.
“Who the hell is this?” Max asked the wide-eyed familiar. “Your pimp?”
He hadn’t been prepared for the slap Aby delivered with an echoing sting.
The wolf smirked and put an arm around Aby’s shoulders. “Familiars don’t have pimps, idiot. Now get the hell out of my air. She said she’s not interested. And I’m not about to let you harm a hair on her pretty head.”
Licking the droplet of blood pooled at the corner of his mo
uth, Max eyed the familiar. She was involved with a werewolf?
Bleeding cowboys, wonders did not cease.
“I’ve no intention to harm her.”
Yet. That was number three on his list.
“It’s what you do, Highwayman,” the wolf spat. “Kill familiars. Don’t deny it.”
Indeed, his reputation was notorious worldwide. Max had figured out about ninety years ago that he could never slay all the demons in this world. But he could go after the conduits who brought those nasty bastards to this realm—the familiars.
But the werewolf’s assumption annoyed him. He’d found the familiar—task one complete. The killing wouldn’t come until he got beyond the second task. And number two would prove tricky.
“I give you my word no harm will come to her tonight. I just want to talk business.”
“Business?” Severo smirked. “You don’t deserve a moment of our time. Besides, she works exclusively with Ian Grim.”
“Grim? Not the witch who bespelled the werewolf’s wife?”
“What?” Aby looked to Severo.
“It’s an urban legend,” the werewolf reassured the woman. To Max, he said, “Grim’s a good man. For a witch.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
Max studied their embrace. Aby’s fingers clutched the wolf’s arm. Her breasts hugged close to him. The wolf slid a hand along her thigh, keeping her safe from Max, but marking her as his own. They were definitely involved.
As for the witch, he hated to think any woman was involved with Grim, in any way. “Aby, you won’t even hear me out?”
The pixie-haired familiar shook her head and slunk against the wolf’s side. The mongrel lifted his chin, eyeing Max down the bridge of his nose.
She’d been confident and open earlier, when she had not been in the wolf’s presence. Max would get nothing further from her until he could speak to her alone. That is, if he could convince her he’d no intention of harming her.
He could lie with the best of them.
“Sorry to have crashed the party.”
He spun and stalked off, taking the steps to the street level two at a time. When he reached the Mustang, parked two blocks down the street, he hopped inside, but didn’t start the ignition or switch on the headlights.