by Wendy Stone
Terry nodded and then watched as Nashe urged Luc back to the couch. She turned and headed up the stairs.
* * * *
The long stairway was curved, open on one side and with a smooth oak banister that was cool under her hand. Terry hurried up, anxious to get back to Nashe and help rescue Marissa. She tried to ignore the constant pain in her ankle, not wanting to give Nashe any reason to send her home.
The stairway opened into a long hall, doors running along one side. Terry had no idea which would be Lucinda’s.
“Damn it,” she hissed and then straightened her shoulders. She’d knock on them all if that’s what she had to do.
No one answered her knock at the first door and she twisted the knob, pushing it open. The room had a lived in look but no occupants, so she moved to the next.
She was at the third door before someone answered her knock.
He was tall, well built with slabs of muscle that reminded Terry of Arnold in one of the Terminator movies. His hair was on the longish side, curling wetly against the thick column of his neck. A white towel was wrapped around his waist, the terry fabric doing little to hide the immense size of the rest of his physique.
“A gift? Did my sister perhaps think I might be lonely?” he asked, reaching out before Terry could say anything and yanking her toward him. “You definitely aren’t what Lucinda usually doles out, but who am I to complain.”
“Wait…” Terry began, putting her hand out to stop him from drawing her closer. Her fingers touched his wide chest, her arm outstretched. But it was as if her arm was as limp as a noodle. He paid no attention to her resistance, reeling her in easily until she was bent over his arm, leaning back. If he moved, she’d fall on her ass. “I’m not…mmpgh.”
She was surrounded by him, standing in the open doorway, his mouth coming down on hers with a gentle finesse that teased her senses. Soft kisses fluttered over her lips, his tongue licking at the corners with an expertise that was as sensual as it was practiced.
“Wait,” she said, trying once more to push him away, even though she found his attempt at seduction interesting. “I’m not… yours. Would you stop that?!”
He did, lifting his head with a half smile upon his handsome lips. His eyes swirled a strange, sultry amber, reminding her of the two cats she’d seen when they’d driven in.
“You’re Marcus,” she said. “I’m looking for your sister. If you let me go, I’ll find her.”
“What fun would that be for me?” He ran his free hand down her side, cupping it over her ass and squeezing.
Terry jerked away from his hand only to find her body pushing up against the white towel that was now lewdly tented out. “Stop it. Let me go,” she demanded. “I-I’m here with Nashe.”
Marcus hesitated, then threw his big head back, laughing at her. “You almost had me there. But everyone knows that Nashe doesn’t have anything to do with human women. He’d never bring one here.” He began to drag her back into his room. “Come on, blondie. Let me show you what a real cat can make you feel.”
“No!” Terry cried, struggling against him even as he easily moved her into his room. “Stop!”
“You heard the lady.”
Terry could have cried in relief. She didn’t know who her rescuer was, but she was grateful. Except Marcus wasn’t letting her go. She glanced up at his face and saw a strange smile, as if he were relishing the confrontation.
He spun her around so that she faced away from him, her back pressed against his wide chest. The man in front of her was just as big and handsome, with the same blue-black hair and amber eyes, though his were fringed with dark, thick lashes that gave him a look that was almost pretty.
“Marcus,” her rescuer said, “this lady doesn’t want to play with a tiny Tom like you. Besides, you don’t like blondes, remember?”
“Oh, I like this blonde well enough. She’ll like me, too, as soon as you leave so I can talk her into it.” Marcus ran his hands over the front of Terry’s tee shirt, skimming them over her breasts.
She started struggling harder. “Stop or I’ll scream!” she shouted. “Nashe is downstairs, he’ll hear me and then you’ll be sorry.”
Marcus smiled, nuzzling his nose against her hair before biting down gently on her earlobe. “I’m not afraid of that half-breed. Besides, he wouldn’t dirty his hands on a human woman.”
“He wouldn’t dirty his hands on any woman as far as I’ve seen,” the other man said, stepping closer until he brushed against her. He lifted her chin, staring down into her panicked blue eyes. “Relax, this wouldn’t be the first time Marcus and I have shared. You’ll enjoy it,” he whispered sensually, his mouth coming closer to hers. “Trust us.”
“No!” Terry lifted her injured leg, slamming her foot back down on Marcus’s bare foot. He howled even as she lifted her knee squarely into the other’s groin, hitting him with enough force that his mouth opened but no sound came out.
His hand fell from her and Marcus released her as well, hopping on one foot as he tried to soothe the pain. “You bitch! You broke my foot.”
“And I’ll break open your head,” Nashe growled from the doorway. “This lady is mine.” He took two steps into the room, his fist flashing out and connecting solidly with Marcus’s chin. The man fell, unconscious. His towel opened, leaving him naked on the ground.
Nashe turned to the other were in the room. “Dimitri,” he growled, standing over the man who lay on his side on the floor, his hands cupped around his groin. “If she hadn’t taken care of you already, you’d feel my fists as well. Touch her again and you will, understand?”
Strange whimpering cries came from Dimitri’s mouth. Nashe shook his head. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he growled. He turned to Terry. “Are you all right?”
Terry nodded, not understanding why Nashe seemed mad at her. She’d done nothing but what he’d asked, trying to find Marshal in this maze of rooms. “I’m fine,” she said on a gulp, limply gamely out of the room. She wouldn’t let him see her confusion or her pain.
She wasn’t prepared for what he did next. Twirling her around, he grabbed her chin, holding her face so that he could look down at her. Then his mouth was on hers, hot, hard, and full of a lust that she couldn’t deny. He growled into her mouth, his body moving against hers frantically.
The emotions he drew out of her were immense, more than she’d felt with any man. She held onto him the same way he did her, convulsively, as if to let go would mean her skyrocketing out of his life, out of his arms. She moaned, her words lost in the frenzied passion of his kiss.
When he lifted his head, the door was shut behind them and no one was in sight. He didn’t notice, for his eyes were on her face, his hands shaking as he brushed her hair away from her eyes, reveling in the signs of her need for him. Her heart beat hard against his chest, the proof of her arousal in her eyes and the scent of her passion filling his nose.
“I want you,” he growled. “I can’t afford to have you befuddle my senses now.” He backed away from her, hands still on her arms. “You go to my head, Terry.”
Terry’s eyes dropped to the front of his jeans, seeing the long hard bulge.
Nashe’s eyes followed. He chuckled, breaking the tension between them. “Yes, that head, too, you minx.”
Terry peered up at him coyly from behind her lashes. “Good. But we don’t have time for this now.”
He pushed his hand through his hair, letting out a long breath. “Yeah, but when we get Marissa back…” He racked her with a stare that set her toes to tingling and made her skin feel as if it were on fire.
She gave as good as she got, reaching out and sliding her fingers down the front of his shirt and over the bulge in his pants. Giving it a quick squeeze, Terry racked him with her own smoldering gaze. “You’d better,” she said.
His eyes narrowed and he yanked her forward, swatting her on her denim clad ass. “Lucinda’s room is two down. Go and get Marshall.” He watched her walk away, quickly adding, �
�And behave yourself.”
* * * *
Nashe followed the long driveway out to the gates, his sharp gaze moving over ever inch of ground, searching for clues to who could have stolen Marissa away.
“I found something,” Terry called. She’d walked away from him, moving through the bushes next to the tall fence.
“Prints,” Nashe said, bending down and moving the brush back from them. “It’s not cat or wolf, it’s something bigger.” He moved even closer, breathing deep, then instantly recoiling from the acrid scent. “God!”
Terry looked on as he brushed a hand across his face, his expression one of disgust. “What is it?”
“Jackals,” he snarled.
“Jackals? Like four-legged animal jackals?”
“More like two legged Were-jackals,” he snapped. “The fucking bastards are territorial as hell.”
“So what do they want with Marissa?”
He shrugged, though he had an idea. “I need to make a call.”
She reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone. Tossing it to him, she turned to follow the prints. They wound through the bushes, ending at the side of the road. From one print to the next, the animal prints turned to human.
“Do you smell Marissa?” Terry called back. “I don’t see any tracks here that could belong to her. They all look the same.”
Nashe shook his head, still on the phone. “Damn it, you owe me,” he growled into it. “I’m asking for a favor, that’s it. I don’t expect you to go with me.”
He listened for a few moments and then a smile crossed his face, one that was hard and brittle, almost scary as Terry watched him. “That’s all I needed to know. Listen Denny, thanks. We’re even.” He chuckled. “Quit being such a fucking wuss. I told you, no one will know it’s you. Yeah, any day. I’ll let Sam know.” He hung up the phone, tossing it back to Terry.
Closing the distance between them, he ran the back of his hand over her cheek, flushed from the sun. “So, you like to go out dancing, right?”
Terry nodded, a bit confused. “Yeah, but I don’t think now is the appropriate time.”
“Oh yes, it is. So, what do you own that’s leather?”
“Leather?” She began to smile.
“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
Chapter Eight
Grunge music poured from the ratty exterior of the warehouse on the edge of the business district. A variety of cars were parked all the way to the street, from Mom’s minivan to Dad’s midlife crisis convertible and everything in between. The line of people waiting to get inside stretched around the building, where the dopers weren’t shy about sparking one to make the wait a little easier to bear.
The usual bouncers were stationed at the door. Big men with ponytails or shaved heads, tattoos and piercings decorating bare skin. Money passed hands easily at the door, as well as favors of other kinds from the pretty girls, given in the dark privacy of the nearby store room.
Nashe parked, turning his head to look over at Terry. She looked so different. Black leather pants clung to her shapely hips and thighs, riding low at her waist and exposing a good deal of skin. A tiny halter in sapphire blue covered barely what was necessary and blatantly revealed that it was the only thing she wore between her lush breasts and the world.
Her long blonde hair had been teased and sprayed, pulled back and curled so that it flowed down her back. Silver hoops swung at her ears and a choker clasped her throat. She wore a light fragrance that sent thrills of need through him.
“You’re going to be trouble tonight,” he growled, turning his head and nibbling on her bare shoulder.
“Oh, now how can you say that? I’m just here to hang on your arm... and kick a little ass if necessary. Besides, once the girls inside get a look at you, I’m going to have to beat them off with a stick.” Her eyes moved over the clingy leather pants to the black leather vest, to the strange gold bands he wore on his biceps. He was, bar none, the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
She fluttered her eyes at him, giving him her most innocent of looks.
Nashe snorted. “Yeah, right.” He got out of the car, feeling the dagger in his boot rub against his leg comfortingly. He slammed the car door, shoving the key in his pocket before holding Terry’s door open for her. “Now remember, if I tell you to run…”
“I’m to do as your holiness says no matter what,” Terry said sarcastically.
“Quit being bitchy. It’s for your own good. How’s the ankle?”
“Fine. Jeez, Nashe, you wrapped it yourself, remember? It’s fine. Quit being so worried. We’re going to go in, find Marissa and get the hell out. Can you scent her?”
He lifted his face to the wind. “I smell drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, cheap perfume and some of the most God awful after shave. No Marissa. Maybe when we get inside it’ll be easier.”
“Have you ever been here before?” Terry asked, holding onto his arm and heading toward the doors.
“Are you kidding? I don’t hang with Jackals or any of the scum they deal with on a daily basis.” Nashe glanced down at her. “Have you been here before?” he asked, just as they reached the two men at the door.
“Hey, Terry,” the bouncer said, smiling as he picked up the chain that was used to keep people away from the doors. “Haven’t seen you around recently. You find a new club?”
“No, just been busy with work, Tito.” She led Nashe through the opening and up a couple of steps. Smiling back at the two men, she waved before they went through the doors.
The music was unbelievably loud, the throng of people packed densely into the wide spaces of the club. The shabby exterior hid an interior that had been stripped bare and then made over using an industrial theme. Metal was everywhere, in the chairs, the tables and the different levels that had been built around a huge dance floor.
Lights flashed, colors blurred and the scents in the place sent Nashe’s nose into overdrive. He’d never be able to pick up one single scent in this blur of humanity and weres mixed. His eyes picked out the weres, their auras glowed differently than humans. When he concentrated, he could see their animals in an overlay of their human selves.
Jackals worked behind the bar and around the room, standing with their backs to the walls, their eyes on the people partying. One waitress smiled at him as she moved past, her lynx glowing a pale gold. Against the wall, a bright green aura caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?” Terry asked, pulling him out of the way of people. “Did you find her?”
“No.” Nashe kept his eyes on the man with the green aura, waiting for him to feel his stare, as he knew he would. When he looked up, they locked gazes, a small smile curving up the corners of Nashe’s mouth and he nodded slowly.
“Who are you looking at?” Terry shouted over the music, standing on the tips of her boots despite the twinge in her ankle. She still couldn’t see who he was smiling at and it bothered her.
“You’ve been here before. Where are they likely to hold someone hostage?” he shouted back, ignoring her question.
“Probably the owner’s office. See those doors?” She pointed towards the back of the dance floor where the bathrooms were. Beyond them was another pair of doors. As they watched, someone tried to open the doors and one of the men at the walls quickly pulled him away and sent him off toward the bathrooms.
“What can I get you?”
The words were shouted at their backs and Terry turned around, smiling at the bartender. “My usual, Gray.”
“What about you?” Gray shouted at Nashe. Then his eyes narrowed. “What are you?”
Nashe saw the bartender’s hand go below the bar. “I’m a customer. Vodka and tonic,” he said loudly, slowly placing his hands on the bar.
Gray looked from him to Terry and then back. He pulled his hand out from below the bar. “Be right back,” he said, turning away to head down the bar.
“Fuck,” Nashe breathed as he watched Gray talk to the othe
r bartender, who looked at them. “We could have some trouble here, Terry.” He slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out the extra key to his car and slipped it into her hand. “Remember what I told you.”
“Run, get to the car and get the hell out,” Terry said, repeating the words he’d drummed into her earlier today, orders that she had no intention of following. If there was trouble, she’d do her damnedest to make sure they both made it out. She cocked one leg up on the metal rail that ran about shin level under the bar and put her hand on her leather pants, ready to free her knife from the sheath in her boot.
Her eyes were on the two men behind the bar, both of whom she knew. When Gray turned to look at them, she gave him her usual friendly smile, acting as if this was the same as any of her trips into the club.
Glancing up at Nashe, she saw that he was staring at her, his eyes narrowed.
“How well do you know him?” he said just loud enough so that Terry could hear him over the sound of the music.
“What do you mean by that?” Terry asked, her own eyes narrowing.
“You seem to be pretty popular here.”
“And you think that means I’ve slept with all of them, don’t you?” The words were an accusation, not a question.
“I didn’t say that,” Nashe hedged, suddenly feeling as if he were walking through a minefield blindfolded.
“No, but you sure as hell implied it!” she snapped. “I can’t believe you think that of me. Tell me who you’ve been to bed with, how many of the waitresses and cooking staff at Abstracts?”
“None,” he growled. “I don’t sleep with employees.”
“Yeah, but you sure seemed pretty comfortable having sex with me on the couch in your office.” She turned back to the bar, so angry she was spitting.
“Here you go, Terry,” Gray said, setting her drink down in front of her. He slid Nashe’s to him as well. “Is this guy bugging you?”
“No, he just thinks I’ve slept with every one of you,” she snapped.