The Darkling Hunters_Fox Company Alpha

by Rhiannon Ayers

  She finished Dex’s belt and handed it to him. Sam gave her a hand as she hopped down from the SUV, earning himself a grateful smile. The tight, stretchy fabric of her skirt had gotten bunched up around her upper thighs, and Sydney reached down to adjust it.

  Sam gently pushed her hands away, then dropped to a squat in front of her. Keeping eye contact, he pinched the skirt’s hem between his fingertips and slowly, slowly, drew the fabric down. He made sure it was straight, smoothing any remaining wrinkles, then let his palms glide down her thighs. Sydney’s ice-blue eyes burned with so much lust, he could have sworn he saw an echo of white flames dancing behind those irises.

  “Fuck,” Dex said with a groan. “I’m already hard enough to pound nails with this thing. Keep that up, and I’m going to lose it before we even get to this club.”

  Sam chuckled, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Sydney’s thigh, just above her knee. He felt her muscles quiver, saw the way she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. Smiling, he rose to his full height. “Dex is right. We better go before we get arrested for public indecency.”

  Sydney’s velvet-coated laugh rang out as they all climbed back into the SUV.

  ◆◆◆

  Sydney felt like fire ants had taken up residence under her skin. It wasn’t as unpleasant as it sounded—If she wasn’t careful, she’d let loose with a celebratory blaze of power and give the whole game away. That thought in mind, she clamped her jaw tight and gathered every ounce of willpower she possessed. She would not fuck this up. Not this time.

  At least we’re here. Finally, they were walking up to Marlon’s impromptu nightclub. Sam paced beside her, holding her hand, while Dex followed close behind her shoulder. Both men were on high-alert, as was their custom, but for once she felt grateful for it. She’d been working toward this for the last six months, weaseling her way into the good graces of all the major players in Levi’s pitiful little army, hoping to get enough of them hooked on her leash to earn herself a VIP’s meeting with Levi himself. And it seemed to be working. Finally, after all this time, after all these years, she would be able to get close to him.

  Close enough to snuff out his miserable life for good.

  The guys probably assumed she’d been using this roundabout method in a fit of extreme caution. But she wasn’t the paranoid one here; Levi had been running and hiding from her for well over a century. Every time she got close, he’d find a way to slip through her fingers. Then would come another few months of tracking and planning, cajoling and infiltrating. No matter what she did, no matter how careful she tried to be, he always found a way to escape.

  Not this time. This time, Levi would die.

  If they could get past the last hurdle, that is. Marlon was the final key. The final test. Levi trusted him, despite the obvious stupidity of trusting any darkling. If she could convince Marlon that she was his version of “good people,” he’d be more than willing to introduce her to the so-called Big Man. Despite Levi’s paranoia, despite his refusal to trust anyone or anything, he still loved being the center of attention. He’d jump at the chance to meet a hot woman who wanted to “do business with him.” No question about that. All she needed was a recommendation direct from Levi’s right-hand man. And now, tonight, she was finally going to get it.

  Here we go.

  They approached the nondescript metal doors on the western side of the warehouse alongside several other prospective party-goers. A pair of scary-looking guards stood on either side of it. But though they checked each passing face, neither man made an attempt to stop anyone from entering. Some giant mountain of a bouncer—twice Dex’s size and four inches taller than Sam’s height—waved them through without a second glance.

  “So far, so good,” Sydney said, half under her breath. Sam squeezed her hand, but otherwise made no comment. A simple gesture, that squeeze, but still fraught with meaning.

  After all, she’d just shown them she could vaporize people with a single touch. Lesser men had been afraid to get within ten feet of her after learning about her power; few, if any, had been willing to touch her.

  In fact, the only human who’d ever—

  Tears threatened. No. I can’t afford that right now. Damn it. If only the “confess your sins” night could have been postponed a little longer. For decades, she’d been able to push all that sorrow and heartbreak to the backburner, focus only on the mission. Now all these goddamn feelings kept coming to the surface. Sydney clenched her teeth even harder, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to lift her chin. By the time Sam shot her an inquisitive look, she’d managed to clear her expression and go back to the sexy bad-ass they’d always known her to be.

  Time for phase one.

  “Marlon never shows up to his own events until he’s certain his timing will be considered ‘fashionably late,’” Sydney said, just loud enough for both men to hear. “So we should find a place to make ourselves visible, but not obvious.”

  “How many darklings?” Sam asked, keeping a smile plastered on his face.

  She hid a sigh. “More than enough. But they’re not our problem tonight.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Dex grumbled somewhere behind her. “You’ve got lightsabers attached to your freaking fingers.”

  “And you’ve now got mini-lightsabers attached to your belts,” Sydney said, flashing him a grin over her shoulder. “Just try not to play with them until we’re on our way out. Things will get real messy real quick once you break out those bad boys.”

  “Over there,” Sam said before Dex could reply. “I see an empty…booth…thing.”

  His hesitation made Sydney look where he indicated—and it took everything she had not to laugh. Since Marlon had appropriated a vacant warehouse for his little nightclub, it hadn’t exactly come equipped with proper seating arrangements. Someone—probably that bald biker dude from the Spiked Collar—had taken it upon himself to come up with a last-minute solution. Trios of loveseats had been put together to form horseshoe formations, with two parallel couches tacked onto the ends of one perpendicular one. A small, round table had been set up in the center of each formation in an obvious attempt to complete the “booth” feel. It would have worked, too—except the couches were all mismatched. Some had bright floral patterns, others were made of old, cracked leather, and a few even looked like they’d been pulled from the set of an old 70’s TV show.

  Sydney snickered. “Dibs on the lime-green one.”

  Both men groaned.

  Sydney slid behind the table and sat down on one end of the loveseat. It wasn’t large enough to fit both men and her, so Sam sat beside her while Dex perched uncomfortably on a second sofa. A harried waiter came by and took their drink orders, not even pausing long enough to meet their eyes.

  “Darkling?” Sam asked, barely loud enough for her to hear.

  Sydney gave a mute node and kept her eyes on the growing crowd. People kept coming through the metal doors, usually in groups of three or four, but there were a few couples. There had to be at least two hundred party-goers already—and less than half of them were darklings.

  That was bad enough, but it was the presence of regular humans that really sent her temper boiling. The darklings were there because they no longer possessed the moral compass that would have told them it was a bad idea to hang out with crooks and criminals. But the humans? They still possessed the ability to tell good from evil—which meant they had to be actively ignoring that inner compass to be there. No matter how much she hated darklings, she could still find a tiny bit of empathy for them; Levi’s influence was relentless, unstoppable, and wholly permanent. By the time they lost their souls altogether, darklings no longer possessed the ability to reason for themselves. In essence, they had no choice.

  But the humans still had a choice. And as far as Sydney was concerned, they were even more damned than the darklings Levi created.

  Still, the presence of so many darklings put a strain on her inner power. The part she couldn’t control,
the part that made her a “walking dose of Prozac,” kept trying to fill the soulless void inside each darkling’s mind—in effect, trying to replace what Levi had taken away. But her power wasn’t strong enough to do that, so all it did was drain her internal reserves, as if she kept trying to pour water into a giant bucket with a big fat hole in it. That was one of the reasons Levi always surrounded himself with darklings; the more there were, the more of Sydney’s power drained away into them. If she stayed too long, she’d weaken to the point where her defenses could be breached.

  She hadn’t told the guys about that part, mostly because it would have made them argue and fight about the wisdom of being here. They’d never accept that the risk was worth the reward.

  Better to let them think she’d given them those little “toys” as a last-resort weapon, rather than as an insurance policy in case her own power faltered.

  “Heads-up,” Sam said. “Here comes the man of the hour.”

  Sydney caught sight of Marlon as he stalked through the doorway. The guy was wearing a three-piece suit made of shiny black leather, polished black shoes with white spats, and a cummerbund. A cummerbund? “Good grief. That man needs a fashion advisor.”

  Dex snorted out a laugh, while Sam just chuckled. Sam looked at her with a lusty little smile, silver eyes dancing with sudden anticipation. “Our audience is here. Think we’re ready to start the show?”

  “Show?” Dex squeaked.

  Oh, yes. She’d been looking forward to this part. Dex had been so deliciously nervous about the prospect of performing in public. But she and Sam had worked out a plan while Dex was napping earlier today, a plan that would take advantage of Dex’s supposed modesty and make their little performance so breathtaking, no one would be able to ignore it.

  Especially not Marlon.

  Sydney let out a calculated purr, stretching out one foot and running the side of her stiletto along Dex’s calf. “He’s not ready. Stand up, Max.” She remembered to use his cover name at the last second. “Take off your shirt.”

  Dex sucked in a shocked breath, a scarlet blush bleeding from his ears down to his neck. Questions—and panic—danced in his eyes. He stood, very slowly, and hesitantly reached for his top button.

  “Nice and slow,” Sam said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated deliciously through Sydney’s body. “Let the good people see just how fucking sexy you are.”

  Dex let out a little whimper, his ears practically glowing, but he didn’t try to protest. He undid his buttons, one-by-one, then let the shirt slide off his shoulders to reveal the leather harness beneath.

  Several people nearby gasped. Several others did a double-take. Just as she knew it would, the sight of Dex’s hard, molded chest wrapped up in that sexy contraption of leather and metal caught the attention of every woman in the room—and quite a few men. Sydney let a slow, predatory smile flow over her lips, letting Dex know he was having the same effect on her, too.

  “Fuck, you look good,” Sam growled.

  Dex swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He kept his eyes on the floor, too afraid to look around and see the effect he was having on people. “What now?”

  “Now,” Sydney purred, “I want you to come here. On your knees.”

  Dex groaned, took a deep breath—and followed orders. He dropped to the floor in one fluid motion and crawled forward on his knees until he reached the edge of the small table. Sam helpfully pushed it aside, giving Dex enough room to get right in front of them. His hands twitched as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, but then he let his arms relax, fists at his sides, and simply looked up at her. Expectant. Waiting for her next command.

  So gorgeous it made her head spin.

  Appreciative murmurs flowed around her, but she didn’t pay them any attention. She watched Marlon out of the corner of her eye, waiting to see if he would notice them. He didn’t—or, at least, he didn’t appear to—so she decided to up the ante.

  “I forgot to tell you something earlier,” Sydney purred. She leaned forward a little, giving Dex a good view down her cleavage, and cupped the back of his neck. He shivered at her touch, eyes dilating. Sydney gave him a wicked little grin and stage-whispered, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

  Dex’s nostrils flared, expression going dark with sudden lust. She saw the moment he forgot about the crowd, forgot about the salacious voyeurs, forgot about everything but Sydney and Sam. Perfect. Keeping eye contact, Sydney sat back just as Sam hitched an arm around her waist. Slowly, slowly, she pulled her skirt up her thighs—and spread her legs.

  “Make me come.”

  Dex needed no second urging. Sam claimed her lips at the same moment that Dex’s tongue swirled around her clit, making Sydney moan. She fisted Dex’s hair, holding him to her mound, and used her other hand to massage Sam’s erection through his slacks. Sam rumbled approvingly, cradling her jaw so he could control the angle of her head while his tongue danced with hers.

  Fuck, it felt good to have their mouths on her. Didn’t matter that they had an audience. Didn’t matter that they were supposed to be putting on a show for someone else’s benefit. Right now, in this moment, she could let herself get lost in it, get lost in them, get lost in the fiery passion that poured off both of them.

  Her men. Yes, she could admit it. They were her men. She might not get to keep them, but for right now, she could afford to forget all that, put thoughts of future heartbreak aside and simply…be with them. Even though it could last, even though she would lose them eventually, one way or another, she could still enjoy this moment.

  That thought firmly in mind, Sydney let go of thoughts of Levi and Marlon, of justice and revenge, and tried to live only for the moment.

  She promised herself it would be worth it.

  Chapter 22

  Marlon Davenport stalked across the warehouse floor, making a beeline toward the bar. Sometimes, he didn’t know why he even bothered with these stupid events. These backwater hicks would never understand what it meant to have a good time. When he held parties in places like Baltimore or D.C., the rooms were always so packed that if people wanted to fuck, they had to do it standing up. Here, barely two hundred morons even bothered to show up, and not a single one of them understood what he’d meant by “dress to impress.” There was enough spandex and pleather out there to make a Walmart bagboy weep.

  Muttering under his breath, Marlon plunked himself onto a low-backed stool beside Ryker. The bald idiot was staring at something off in the crowd, a look of lustful fascination on his face. Marlon rolled his eyes, gestured toward the bartender, and pulled his phone from his pocket. His scowl grew blacker as he scrolled through his recent messages.

  No response yet. Fuck it all, what was Levi waiting for?

  “Any sign of our imports?” Marlon said, not even bothering to look up from his phone. No hi, how are you, are you having a good time? His people learned early that he didn’t much care for social niceties.

  Ryker, in the midst of taking a sip of beer, coughed hard and had to wipe spittle from his beard. He shot Marlon what looked suspiciously like an amused grin. “Um, yeah. They’re here.”

  “Really?” Marlon felt his eyebrows go up. So, they had survived the hunting pack, and yet they’d still had the temerity to show up tonight. Interesting, Very, very interesting. Either they didn’t realize Marlon was responsible for it, and therefore decided to accept his invitation to the club out of ignorance; or, they’d figured it was a test, and therefore decided to prove their fearlessness by showing up anyway.

  “How many hunters did you send after them?” Marlon asked.

  Ryker shrugged. “Seven, I think, plus the pack leader. That was all that would fit in the car.”

  Marlon grimaced. Three-to-seven wasn’t exactly bad odds. They could have just gotten lucky; after all, it wasn’t really that hard to evade those deranged monstrosities. Still, they’d been savvy enough to survive an outright assassination attempt, yet bold enough to show up despite knowing someone
wanted to kill them. That took brass.

  “Where are they?” He cast his henchman one of his best glares as he said it, trying to get the idiot to focus. Amazingly, Ryker just grinned, took a swig of beer, then tipped the neck of his bottle toward the direction he’d been staring. Marlon twisted around in his seat, searching the crowd. Note to self: teach Ryker to have more respect for his betters.

  He didn’t see them at first. Moving waves of badly dressed sheeple kept blocking his view of the warehouse. Eventually, he caught a glimpse of shiny black hair off in the distance. He squinted, trying to make out details from across the room, but it seemed like someone kept getting in the way. Then he realized his view of the woman was being blocked, not by passing party-goers, but by the presence of the tall, handsome man who’d been with her at the Spiked Collar. He had his tongue down her throat, grabby hands all over her tits, and they looked like they were having a grand old time in one of the pathetic little “couch booths” Ryker had set up.

  “Nice,” Marlon said, despite himself. They looked like porn stars about to set up for an epic gangbang scene. But his frown returned almost immediately. “Any sign of the big guy?” Maybe he’d gotten killed by the hunting pack.

  Ryker snickered. Actually snickered. “Check under the table, boss.”

  Marlon craned his neck, trying to get a look through the shadows surrounding the couple. Next time, he’d have to make sure Ryker set up proper lighting equipment. He couldn’t see a damn thing under there but for a couple of random white pillows. Too damned hard to—

  Then he saw it, and for the first time in a long time, a little thrill zipped through him. The big guy was under the table, all right—bent over and eating out that gorgeous hooker’s pussy. The white slashes Marlon had mistaken for pillows turned out to be the woman’s creamy white thighs, and they were spread wide to accommodate the big guy’s shoulders. She also seemed to have her hand shoved down the pants of the tall guy sitting next to her, while he had his hands all over her tits.