by Luna Quinn
There was no answer.
Now Sasha was concerned. Illogical as it was, she had a moment of genuine worry for the brothers. But they were fucking Hellhounds after all. To threaten even one of them was suicide. No, there couldn’t have been anything wrong. They were most likely out for a run.
Deciding to get out of H.O.T before she broke anything, Sasha got back in the elevator and pushed the button to go back to the parking garage. She’d leave and come back later to try again.
With a sigh, she leaned against the bar across the back of the elevator. Served her right for trying to be the bigger person and have a nice, mature conversation. The universe must have been telling her that it would have been a waste of time.
When the elevator doors opened again, Sasha pushed off the back wall. As she stepped off the elevator and came to an abrupt stop, she had to admit she was in awe.
Four fully grown Hellhound beasts were running right at her.
Any other person would have probably shit their pants. Sasha stood still, but recognized they weren’t a threat. At least, not to her and not in this moment in time. Their body language was showing signs of contentment, even pleasure. So they had been out for a run, as she’d guessed.
They were truly beautiful creatures, but she would never say so to any of their faces. They were also fearsome and intimidating, even when relaxed. She was fascinated by them and wished she had the time to study their massive bodies. If only they stood still long enough.
Edge was the first to shift back into his human form. Instead of shifting to a naked man, like she would have assumed, Edge was fully clothed in his normal dark clothing, with a matte black ring through one eyebrow and two through his bottom lip. As he turned on his heel, she caught a glimpse of the black weapons strapped to his body. He barely acknowledged Sasha as he disappeared back into the club, but she didn’t take any offense. As the unofficial but recognized leader of Shadow Realm and head of the not-supposed-to-exist Assassins Guild, Edge had a lot of shit on his mind at any one time. You didn’t really want to be the subject of Edge’s focus, because when you were, you were usually taking your last breath.
Sin was the next to become human again—also fully dressed in washed-out jeans and a loose white T-shirt with My sword is bigger than yours written on the front. He smiled easily at her. “Sasha, what’s up?” he said in greeting, giving her a dimpled smile. His colorfully inked-up arms went around her in a brotherly hug.
“I was just swinging by. I checked H.O.T., but no one was there. I didn’t touch a thing, promise.” She lifted her hands innocently. “Anyway, I came to speak with Razor.”
Sin’s eyebrow quirked in surprise. “I’ll catch up with you later, then,” he said, and walked away.
Night and Razor had both shifted back to their human forms while she had been talking to Sin, and now it was Night who strolled over. His stride was cocky as ever, an odd, suspicious gleam in his purple eyes.
He also didn’t have a stitch of clothing on him.
“I knew it was a woman stressing Razor out,” he said. And, Goddess help her, but Sasha couldn’t help her gaze from roaming. It wasn’t every day a naked, six-foot four man who oozed pure sex stood there for her to look her fill. Built more like a swimmer, Night was all toned muscles, and unlike the rest of his brothers, he didn’t have any piercings or tattoos, so his light golden brown skin looked pure and touchable.
They both ignored the growl of warning from Razor’s throat.
Sasha could practically feel the waves of anger—jealousy?—coming from him. And because taunting him sent a thrill through her, she pushed her luck. She put her hand on Night’s bare shoulder. As undeniably handsome as Night was, she truly felt nothing for him that could even compete with what Razor did to her. No spark, no hitch in her breath.
“If you need a real man,” Night was saying, “follow me to my office.” He winked.
Sasha snorted and shoved Night’s shoulder away. “I’ve got business to do here. Besides, I have higher standards.”
Night waggled his eyebrows and walked backwards so he could still taunt her. The man had no shame. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me, darling. Your loss.”
Sasha flipped him off. “I’ll live.”
She turned to find Razor suddenly standing right in front of her, looking annoyed with her already, his arms crossed over his chest. His bare chest, she noted with delight. She also took a few heartbeats to admire how, unlike Night’s light brown coloring, Razor’s skin was more medium brown with bronze undertones. While their exact ethnicity was something she could only guess at, she would say they were Brown boys.
The sweet, cloying scent from his smoke that she’d long ago associated with only him swirled around her and filled her head. She wanted to sway closer to him, but kept her ground.
Much like with Night, she felt compelled to look her fill, but for entirely different reasons. Her gaze trailed down Razor’s neck, to his chest and shoulders, following the inked vines and leaves that made up most of his arms and upper body, and wrapped around to his back. The leaves branching off the vines were bright blue, and as her eyes traveled along the vein-like structure of the vines, she noticed deep red ink appearing to bleed from the vines and torn leaves.
Moving her gaze to his wide chest, there was a large, black tree that sprawled over his heart, taking up most of his left pec. There was a lot of fine detail there, branches of different shapes and colors, but her eyes kept moving down before she could study it as in depth as she wanted to.
Whereas Night and Sin were all sleek muscles, with elegant but masculine frames, Razor and Edge were all strength and power. Wide shoulders and chests, thick and muscular waists and thighs. Bodies made for endurance and killing blows.
The lines of his abs to the V of his abdomen were calling her name, and her fingers twitched, especially as she saw the realistic guns tattooed there. The barrels of the guns disappeared into his low-slung jeans, and Sasha licked her lips. She felt something suspiciously close to disappointment at his lack of nudity.
But the jeans couldn’t hide Razor’s prominent erection.
Her gaze snapped back up to his face, where she saw his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening. He opened his mouth, his upper lip twitching in a way that she knew preceded some sort of banter. She didn’t pause to reflect on knowing his tells and chalked it up to living around the guy for a few centuries.
Not that she’d studied him and his reactions intimately.
Throwing out a snide remark would be all too easy. Riling him up until they were in each other’s face was, she could admit to herself, kind of fun. But she wasn’t going to be doing that today.
Mostly because she’d likely make the mistake of pouncing on him, and this time, she was afraid it wouldn’t end with just a kiss.
Deep breath. Bigger person. This is just business. You can do this.
“Razor.” She lifted a hand, making sure her voice remained calm and steady. “Let me say this. We were paired together for a reason, and it wasn’t to be in each other’s faces and fighting all the time. I won’t ever apologize for punching you because you always deserve it, but I recognize why Xavier wants us working together. I also won’t apologize for following my gut back at the party house. But I will apologize for…what happened in Sector Three. It can’t happen again, and it won’t. This is a really serious investigation. There are dangerous things at play, and it needs to be us, working together, without distractions. So I take back what I said back at the party. I’m in all the way with this. With you. I won’t go off to investigate on my own, but neither will you. I’m stuck with you, and you’re stuck with me. If you want to take the lead, fine. But we’re going to find these missing souls and whoever is responsible for taking them. And then we’re going to rip that motherfucker up until he’s puking intestines and shitting eyeballs. Then we’ll kill him.” She smiled up at him as she finished, oddly nervous.
He tilted his head, the corners of his lips curling u
p. “I thought you said you came to speak with me. That wasn’t a discussion, that was a speech. Pretty words, but still talking at me.”
That…wasn’t the response she was expecting. It was supposed to be simple. Sasha huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I made my point.” Now please don’t bring up the kiss part.
“Fair enough. Now let me clarify a few things.” He pointed at her, then at himself. “We will be a partnership, and yes, I will call the shots. This is my city, my people. So when I say run, you run.”
Sasha snorted. “I’m not a civilian, Razor, nor am I human. I will fight to the death to defend my city and my people. Souls are part of my job, not yours. I’m not your fucking soldier, so get that shit out of your head right now. You have a right to lead, up to a point, but there’s no way in hell I’m following your every command.”
Sasha didn’t realize how close he had gotten to her until her back hit the cement wall and he was in her face, his eyes darker now. “Oh no, pretty girl. That’s where you’re wrong. I’m in charge, and you will follow my rules.”
The or else was left unsaid, and she hated the shiver that worked up her spine from his words. It sounded like a threat and a promise all at once. How the fuck did he do that?
His gaze swept over her body, though he wouldn’t get much of an eyeful. Her clothes specifically hid how toned she was and the gun in the pocket of her hoodie. But they couldn’t hide the hitch in her breath.
And he knew, dammit. He knew exactly how aroused she’d gotten in no time at all. Just from his words—hell, just his presence. He wasn’t even touching her, yet her nipples hardened at the thought of him taking one into that smart mouth of his. Or having a repeat of their kiss. His scent grew even stronger, if possible, and she bit her tongue before she could make any noises to tip him off. It didn’t matter. The rumble in the back of his throat sounded suspiciously smug.
She needed to take back control of this situation. Now.
“If you don’t step back,” Sasha warned, her voice deceptively even, “I will shoot you in the gut.”
He didn’t move a muscle for ten seconds. Twenty. Just as Sasha moved her finger to flip off the safety on the gun, he eased back. But she couldn’t look away, her gaze ensnared with his.
He didn’t even have to say anything. The challenge was in his face, in his posture. Daring her to make another move when he was ready to pounce.
She had better control than that, though. Rolling her shoulders back, she straightened. She would adhere to her self-imposed rule of being on her best behavior tonight. Spinning on her heel, fully intending on walking right out. She quickly turned back to him. Who the hell was she kidding? She couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it.
“We should really stop meeting this way.” She eyed his bare chest, and gave the impression of levity she didn’t feel. If she could pretend things were just like they always had been, maybe she could fool herself, too. “I think I’ll start wearing a sign that says, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service. I shouldn’t be forced work under such poor conditions.”
A quiet rumble vibrated in his chest. Something gleamed in his dark gaze as one side of his mouth lifted in a devastating smile. She swallowed, desire to kiss that smirking mouth rushing through her. Then he chuckled, all deep and low, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
“Oh, pretty girl, you just don’t know when to stop, do you? But don’t worry, I’ll make sure next time you have something much better to work under.” His meaning wasn’t lost on her, and it took more effort than she thought to clear the images his words pushed into her mind. Deciding not to press her luck any further, and with one last glance at a row of gleaming motorcycles to her right, she left the parking garage.
…
Razor stared after Sasha, his body vibrating with excitement. He wanted to follow her, keep their banter going, push her some more. But he stayed put. It had been difficult enough to hold off from saying more during their chat—or getting close enough to kiss her quiet. Following her would be a terrible idea.
After the run with his brothers, he had felt infinitely better. He’d even convinced himself that all this turmoil with Sasha had been due to the pressure of the case and all the other responsibilities that still required his attention. All of that had obviously shortened his fuse, and inexorably, led to an easily riled Razor.
Then he’d gotten back to the club, the scent of her swimming in the air, stealing his attention. Already feeling slightly drunk on the pleasure of the run, seeing her waiting on his return—even if it had been solely business—had revved up all of his instincts. More than once, he’d been tempted to close the distance between them and beg her to pet him, to let him rub his nose over every inch of her skin. To taste her again. The pull towards her had been hard to resist. Especially when she had smelled so fucking good, and not at all indifferent to him.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Startled, he swung his head towards the voice, surprised to find Sin leaning against a support column, watching him strangely.
“What?”
“You want her,” Sin marveled, a little too chipper for Razor’s liking.
It made him bristle. “Well, duh. Have you seen her? Who wouldn’t? She’s hot,” he shot back. Strangely, he hoped his baby brother didn’t agree with that statement, because the idea of someone else admiring Sasha, even his brother, made a muscle in Razor’s jaw tick.
“That’s not what I mean.” Sin continued to study him. Razor knew that hadn’t been what his brother had meant, but ignoring the question was better than explaining his non-relationship relationship with the frustrating Reaper. He was committed to their all-business-from-now-on plan, and that included touching on the subject in conversation.
Razor spun around. “I have shit to do. See you later,” he threw over his shoulder.
He heard Sin’s chuckle all the way to the elevator.
Chapter Eight
Two hours later, he was on worst side of Four. Atsuko, the commander in that sector, had called in a sentencing request. Some Demon had gone bat-shit, and now Razor was hot on his trail, glad to have something to kill rather than to think about.
Unlike their neighbor Celeste Nation, and its need to feel superior in every way, Shadow Realm was like any other place in the world; it had its nice areas and it had its slums. Some of the Others liked that, living in less-than-safe conditions. And no matter how much he and his brothers had attempted to better some parts of Shadow Realm for them, they’d refused to move. Shadow Realm was a rich territory, though not in paper money like Celeste Nation. Any money that came in was money that went back into improving the city. Razor, Sin, Edge, and Night made most of their personal income on investments they had all over the world, and off the Night House. They weren’t millionaires, but they had enough to live comfortably. In their world, paper money was almost an afterthought. Land, magical power, and natural resources made up the real wealth everyone was looking for, and Shadow Realm had it in spades. It was good to know that when the day came when the Hellhounds no longer walked the earth, their legacy would go on and Shadow Realm would keep moving forward.
Though, it really didn’t take much to make him happy. In the Underworld, Razor and his brothers had been seen as little more than Erummon’s mutts, his glorified attack dogs, and they were certainly treated as such. Ever since taking over their land in the human realm, that had changed drastically. It was certainly nice to be able to walk down the street without having someone spit out a slew of derogatory terms their way.
When he turned the corner onto the alley where he’d cornered the Semuro Demon, Razor gagged on the smell. It wasn’t only the alley; it was the Demon, too. Death, rot, and days’ old excrement. This one had really gone off the deep end.
Semuros were usually a calm race and looked mostly human, except for the purple horns protruding from the sides of their heads, and their shark-like teeth. A Semuro needed brain matter to sustain themselves, though
they could also eat animal parts bought from a butcher shop as part of their diet. They were given two brains a month from the recently deceased, and it was more than enough and more than fair. Sin had done thorough research.
This idiot shaking and mumbling apologies had broken more than one law. He’d gone on a day trip to the outskirts of Shadow Realm, thinking no one would ever find out about his mini-vacation. An entire rural village of deer Shifters had lost their lives to this fucker. Some assholes just needed to die.
The Semuro continued to weep and whimper, but Razor didn’t even pause as he strode to him. Faster than the guy could blink, he put two Kremortium bullets in the bastard’s skull. Kremortium, a metal found only in the Underworld, killed anything and anyone by exposure alone. Except Hellhounds, of course. His father being the evil genius (bastard) that he was, didn’t miss that small detail when he fucked with their DNA. Kremortium didn’t kill them like it would any other species, but it was still painful as fuck.
Since it was so damn hard to smuggle out of the Underworld, he had the weapon makers mix it with gold, which was toxic all on its own, but not deadly. Together, the metals destroyed tissue and bone in nanoseconds. He couldn’t say it had been his idea to mix the two; Sin got all the credit on that one.
Relishing the sound of the Semuro’s body dropping with a thump, he was about to put his weapon away when something made him stiffen. His senses went on high alert as he slid farther into the shadows of the alley.
A moment later, the scent of his visitor reached him. Relaxing, Razor grinned and stepped forward.
“I can’t get a moment’s peace with you guys, can I?” Locke said, amusement touching his denim-blue eyes. The Reaper leaned against one of the graffiti-filled walls of the alley, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked as casual as ever, even with a dead body feet way.
He wore his blond hair long, the ends reaching his shoulders, with two thin braids hanging on each side. Still, not even the hair, the short beard, or the tattoos that started below Locke’s clavicle and covered almost the rest of his body could make his face look any less boyish. He was almost pretty, with rosy cheeks, pink lips, and long eyelashes. From what Razor knew, he’d place Locke’s ancestors from one of the old Scandinavian countries.