by Quirah Casey
“Was that not the question you were going to ask?”
“No, but I’m sure the people asking those questions are the ones I came to talk about.”
“They’re siblings.” She confirms what I already guessed: the woman I’ve seen with London is his sister, Paris. I’m surprised they would so blatantly and obviously ask Lobrooke’s residents about me. It’s stupid on their part, but it’s going to help me.
Fran continues speaking. “They looked like a pair of sun gods. For a second I thought the young gentleman was Helios or Ra.” She starts to fan herself dramatically, and I have to hold back a laugh. When I think of London now, without so much anger controlling me, I can see how she’d confuse him with a sun god. With his golden features, tan skin, and all-around good looks, if he hadn’t crossed me, I would definitely have had him in my bed by now.
“The fact that you are smiling tells me that you are not too worried.” Fran’s slight European accent comes out.
“No, I trust you, Fran. You know things about me that no one else does, besides Melodiya and Marie, but I know you wouldn’t reveal anything to a stranger. So no, I’m not worried.”
“As you shouldn’t be. You’re a lovely woman, Blue. Maybe I didn’t think that when I first met you, but now, you have my undying loyalty and respect. If you ask me, I think the name Devil shouldn’t be associated with you.”
“Thank you. I don’t deserve such a sentiment, but I’ll take it.” I steer the subject back to the Stendahls, not wanting to get too far off track. “What did the siblings ask?”
“They wanted to know what I knew of you. How long you’d been here, what properties you own, how you get along with the locals. I told them I didn’t know about your personal life but that the locals both respect and fear you, something that anyone else in town could have told them.”
“Did you learn anything about them?”
She shakes her head. “Only that the power radiating from them both is strong and hard to miss. I’d say the brother is nearly three centuries old and the sister only a couple years younger.” Fran has a knack for reading auras and presences. She’s one of the best I know, easily able to identify a stranger’s species, power, and age. “They were very pleasant when they were in here. The brother even bought a couple of the dragon statues.” Her soft smile returns.
“Okay. Thank you, Fran. I’ll let you get back to work. If they come in again or you find out anything else, make sure you call me, okay?”
“Will do.” A loud meow alerts me to the entrance of a black and gray cat, Fran’s familiar, Baptise. He brushes against my leg before going to sit at Fran’s feet.
“That damn cat feels me up every time I’m in here,” I complain.
“He never has the balls in human form.” Fran chuckles before walking me to the door. “Is my order in yet?” she asks as an afterthought.
Fran always buys ingredients for her spells and potions from me at a discounted price. She also gets a discount on svezhiy, the chöąt equivalent of weed.
“Yes, I’ll have Dina bring it to you.”
Fran’s nose wrinkles. “Have Melodiya or someone else bring it. You know I don’t like that Dina girl. She gives me bad vibes.”
I refrain from reminding Fran that my past is much darker than my third-in-command’s. If Fran doesn’t get bad vibes from me, then she shouldn’t get them from Dina. “Yes, ma’am.”
Once the shop door closes behind me, I start heading towards Charisma, the town’s faerie dine-in. It’s about a mile or so down the road from Fran’s, as far as the two establishments can get from each other while both remaining on the town’s main strip. For some reason, Fran has bad blood with the fae, especially the older ones, and they try to steer clear of one another.
I’m a couple shops down from Fran’s when I feel a presence, someone’s eyes on me. I try to look around subtly, but I don’t see anyone in my periphery. Turning my head, I’m met with the same result: there’s no one. But I haven’t lived this long without a constant sense of paranoia; I always stay on guard. Mel may make fun of me for it, but my paranoia has saved my ass more times than I can count.
I continue walking, my hand on my knife, and while I don’t see or hear anyone else, I can still feel eyes on me. And there’s this touch of dark power and magic in the air. It’s unfamiliar, which means it can’t be London or Paris—I know what it feels like to be around them. The Stendahls’ auras are unpleasant, obviously, but they’re definitely different from the darkness currently clouding my mind. Whoever I’m sensing now is someone I’ve never come across before.
The presence grows stronger, and I take my knife out. It’s small, drawing less attention than my swords, but it’s been spelled by Fran, who gave it the ability to paralyze with a cut. I glance behind me once again. For a second I think I see a shadow, but then something smacks into me.
“Blyat!” The Russian curse slips from my mouth as my knife comes around to stab my attacker.
“Hey!” Someone grabs my wrist and holds it forcibly. My head whips around, my gaze colliding with a dark one.
“You just tried to stab me!” Agent Levitsky shouts, still holding onto my wrist.
I snatch my hand away, overpowering him. “You attacked me,” I accuse, trying to save my own ass. I really did just try to stab a CDA agent, and he could probably arrest me if he wanted. He wouldn’t be able to keep me long—Mel would make sure of that—but being locked up would be a major inconvenience.
“You weren’t watching where you were going,” Levitsky counters, taking a step back and glancing behind me, obviously trying to see what I was looking at.
I finally take in my surroundings, realizing that the agent was exiting Whoof, a coffee shop owned by one of Lobrooke’s werewolf packs.
I glance behind me once more, no longer feeling the presence or seeing a shadow.
“Is that an illegal weapon?” Levitsky asks, trying to get a closer look at my knife, but I shove it back into my waistband before he can.
“No,” I lie. “And watch where you’re going next time, Agent.” I move around him, intent on getting back to the den and finding Melodiya. I have to tell her the bad news.
Someone is watching me, and it isn’t Blaine Levitsky or London Stendahl. Which means that I now have a third problem.
Fucking great.
CHAPTER FIVE
There are three people dancing around me: a woman on my left, a man on my right, and another woman in front of me. I plan on taking them all to the back, to one of the private rooms, where they can help relieve the tension I’ve been under lately. There’s only one problem.
London Stendahl.
He’s back in my club, sitting at a table, smirking incessantly as he chats with a group of people who I suspect are his wyryns. His sister is by his side, and she keeps shooting glances my way. Every time London looks up and meets my eyes, his grin widens. And every time, my fists ball up and my pulse jumps. It pisses me off that he’s openly taunting me, that he keeps showing up where I can’t attack him. If I could only get my hands on him…but my club is a neutral zone, no violence tolerated. Even I obey that rule. Unless someone else throws the first punch, in which case I don’t mind laying down the law. I gained the trust of the community a long time ago, and I won’t fuck that up for some stranger who seems intent on provoking me into murdering him.
“Where are you going?” the male dancer asks when I stand up, his eyes trailing me closely.
“That’s not your concern. I’ll be back.” I move the dancing woman out of my way, and a gasp slips through her lips as I push her into my vacated seat. “Stay,” I order, and I stride out of VIP.
Nodding to the woman on security detail, I walk down the stairs, heading to the bar. Halfway there, I gesture for Reit to get me a drink.
All of the barstools are occupied, by chöąts of every kind. “Move,” I bark at a vampire, and he quickly abandons the bar. His companion follows suit, opening the seat next to mine.
; “One of those days?” Reit asks, setting a glass of bloody baby and two shots of kadar in front of me.
“Ain’t it always?” I down the shots first, gesturing for more before drinking the bloody baby.
Reit puts four more shots in front of me, obviously picking up on the fact that I need a little extra tonight.
As I reach for one of the shots, it's snatched up from the bar.
“Isn’t this nice of you? Buying drinks for me.” I recognize the English accent instantly.
I must be really fucking stressed if I didn’t feel London approaching until he was beside me. He sets the empty shot glass back down and reaches for another. My hand shoots out, closing over his, and an electric hum rushes up my arm.
“If you want this hand to stay attached to your body, you’ll leave my shit alone.” I release him, picking up the shot for myself and throwing it back. The other two follow in quick succession.
“Ah, yes, Russian dragons hate when you get between them and their kadar.”
If it weren’t well known that I hail from Russia, I’d think that London had been doing some digging into my past. Well, some more digging, I guess. And that reminds me—
“Stop fucking asking questions about me.”
“Maybe the alcohol is getting to you, love. I didn’t ask you a question.”
“No, but you’ve definitely been asking others.” This morning, I’d found out that London and his sister hadn’t stopped after speaking to Fran—they’d asked more than a handful of locals about me. “You must be stupid if you think you can ask so many people about me without my hearing about it.” I finally turn to look at him full on, finding his golden eyes alight with amusement.
“I knew it’d get back. I just wanted to know how long it would take.”
“Sure.” I can’t help the sarcasm that drips from my voice. “What do you want, Stendahl?”
“I just came in to relax. Have a couple of drinks, couple of women.”
“You’re not the first to come in here with that lie,” I say, thinking of Agent Levitsky. Everything’s been quiet on his end lately—he’s either given up investigating me or gotten stealthier about it. Probably the latter. Either way, I still have Mel looking into him and Feliks. So far none of our contacts have come up with anything on Levitsky; apparently whatever he’s working on at the CDA is highly classified.
“I’ve had a chat with some of my acquaintances in London, but none of them seem to know why you’re here, in my territory. Illegally, I might add.” Atoria wasn’t able to get any good info, though she said she’d update me if she found anything new.
The corner of London’s lip inches up. “Illegal is a bit of a reach, don’t you think?”
“No, it’s not. You and your den haven’t registered with mine as you should have. We’re the most dominant assembled group in the area. Hell, in the motherfucking world.”
“That’s a formality, not a law.”
“Well, it's a formality that’s going to get your throat ripped out as soon as I get tired of playing nice.”
He lets out a laugh. “This is you playing nice?”
“You bet your ass it is.” I slam the empty glass onto the bar. “Reit, more kadar, now!”
London leans closer, that ever-annoying smirk on his face. “Damn, someone’s wound a little tight tonight. You’d think you’d be a more relaxed with your harem up there waiting on you. Are the three wolves in VIP not cutting it?”
I narrow my eyes at him as Reit lines up another row of shots in front of me. “A harem would imply that I allow the same group of people into my bed more than once.” I lean in closer. “But I don’t. I break them after the first time, just like I’m going to break you and your sister. Unfortunately for you two, there won’t be any pleasure involved in the experience.”
I expect to see some sign of anger or irritation, but London stays calm. “So you’ve done some research on me, then. Find out anything interesting?”
“Only that your parents must be cowards, as you and your sister both clearly inherited the gene.” My eyes flick over to the table where his sister Paris still sits, laughing as she chats with another dragon. “I can only imagine the looks on their faces when they open the present I’m about to send them—a box with a bow on it, filled with your chopped-up body parts.” I flash London a quick, tense smile, then direct my attention back to the shots.
London continues to watch me in amusement. The alcohol isn’t relaxing me at all, and I don’t like how calm London is. I should have known from our last encounter that the man is insane and doesn’t respond like others do. If he were anyone else, he’d be long gone by now, hiding from me in his home country. But instead, he’s here. Happy. Calmly engaging with me. In my own damn club.
I reach into my pocket for a yada, a Russian cigar made for dragons.
“Need a light?” I look over to London’s outstretched hand, where a single flame flickers. It’s an impressive trick for someone still in human form.
After a moment of hesitation, I light the cigar, and London pulls his hand back as I take a drag. My body instantly starts to loosen up.
“A yada? Aren’t those illegal in America?” London inquires, leaning closer to me.
I just eye him, switching the cigar to my left hand and grabbing another shot with my right.
“Damn. How are you still functioning after all those shots and the yada?” He tries to reach for my cigar, but I smack his hand away. “Someone doesn’t know how to share.” He’s taunting me again, just like the other day. Taunting me and enjoying it, not an ounce of fear in his soul.
It’s different.
I don’t like different.
“You know, typically when people realize they’ve crossed me, they run for the hills. The fact that you’re still here makes me wonder how you haven’t yet been placed in a mental institute.” I blow smoke in his face, and he placidly fans it away.
“If you really wanted me or my sister dead, we would already be dead. So, no, I’m not running. I’m not worried, love.”
He’s right, I admit inwardly. If I really wanted them dead, they’d already be six feet under. They would’ve been dead the day after they stole my hit.
“Go away. I have guests to entertain. I mean, to entertain me.”
His smile returns with that. He leans in even closer, and I can feel his breath against my ear. For a second, I almost lash out, but I won’t break my own no-violence rule. Besides, I kind of like having him this close to me. Obviously it’s just the yada, which has a slight aphrodisiac effect, but still…
His lips brush against my hair as he speaks. “If you really wanted to be up there with them, you wouldn’t be down here with me.” My lips part slightly, and I turn my face to him…only to catch a glimpse of his broad shoulders and golden hair as he disappears into the crowd. I swivel back toward Reit, who looks at me apologetically and shrugs. My gaze falls to the bar, and I grit my teeth. Motherfucker took my last two shots.
Fuck, I’m really off my game tonight.
I try to tell myself it's because I have people trying to take me down from every angle—I’m just overwhelmed. But I know that’s not the truth. I’ve always had people coming for me—maybe not this aggressively, but still. Since the moment I came into power, I knew that there would always be multiple threats breathing down my neck. Once you’re at the top, there’s always someone waiting to knock you down. That doesn’t faze me.
The truth is that there’s something about London. His presence draws me in, and the more it does, the more frustrated I become. I’ve only been in this position with one person before, and that was always bound to fail, so I never pursued it.
I take another drag of my cigar, knocking the ashes to the floor before putting it out against my finger. I toss it into one of the empty shot glasses and turn away from the bar.
I push through the crowd, making my way back up to the VIP section, feeling London’s eyes on me. I refuse to show that I’m aware of him, don’t wa
nt to give him the satisfaction. But then I feel another presence, another, darker gaze, similar to the one I felt the other day.
Frowning, I look around the club, but it's hard to spot anyone, so I continue up to VIP. One of the wolf dancers tries to speak to me, but I silence her with a look. Standing at the railing, I survey the club, but no one stands out. Most of the people here are regulars, locals. The presence I feel doesn’t match with any of the faces below me, not even the few unfamiliar ones.
This person feels different from every other chöąt I’ve come across. Except one, but I know for a fact that she isn’t in town; she’d have let me know. Besides, her kind isn’t interested in the Lobrooke townies—at least not anymore. Maybe I should give her a call later…
“Blue.” A hand lands lightly on my shoulder, and Melodiya’s familiar voice and smell register before I can lash out in surprise. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asks, and I look over to find her eyes full of concern.
“Nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing if you didn’t even notice me walking up to you.” She’s right; I’m always aware of her. Always. I have been for over a century, and I don’t want that to change anytime soon.
“I don’t know…” I glance around. The club is way too crowded to speak about anything personal. “Just been a little stressed…so many newcomers in town.” My mind jumps back and forth between London and Levitsky. Hell, maybe they’re even working together. They did walk into my club on the same night. Maybe that’s not a coincidence.
“Well, maybe you need to take the rest of the night off. I’ll handle the club.”
Looking back out at the crowd, I zero in on London. He’s on the dance floor, a woman wrapped around him, but his gaze lingers on me. When he catches my eye, he smirks, maintaining eye contact as he pulls the woman’s body closer to his, his lips going to her neck.
Heat floods my body, and I rotate abruptly to face Mel.
“Yeah, I think that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Good.” Her hand drifts up my back, but instead of soothing me, like I know she intends, it only makes me tense up.
