E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  After one too many hits and kicks to his jewels, Camden raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t comment as he walked over to a cabinet that held a veritable armory. He selected two kinzhals—double-edged, Russian daggers that were my specialty—and returned, tossing one at me. I easily caught the handle and flipped it around into an offensive hold.

  An hour later, I hurled it at the wall, embedding the tip, the blade quivering. Then I collapsed on the ground into the fetal position and groaned as I checked the blood flow from the deep cut on my arm and one on my thigh. “Enough for today,” I panted.

  Camden had fallen into a similar position next to me and pressed his hand on a wound just above his left ribs. “You’re always lethal, Rowan, but fucking hell, woman. What crawled up your ass today? And don’t give me any of that ‘I’m fine’ shit.”

  I sighed and, since the bleeding from my thigh was stanching, I flopped onto my back, wincing when I put too much weight on a bruised portion of my spine. I debated telling him about the whole “Jude knows every-fucking-thing about us” story, then decided to just stick with the vamp issue. “I’m having trouble with an assignment and Jude threatened to give it to another slayer.”

  Camden was silent, so I forced my head to loll to the right so I could look at him. “You don’t have anything to say, Obi-Wan? No sage advice or even an obscure haiku?”

  Cam pulled his hand from his side and when it continued to bleed, I mustered up the strength to get to my feet and grab him a bandage from the large first aid cabinet.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked as I crouched beside him and held out my empty hand. He placed his palm in mine, and I nearly pushed healing power into him, but caught myself at the last second.

  “Gavno,” I growled under my breath. I helped haul him to his feet and then proceeded to wrap the bandage tightly around his middle. “I don’t know. Words of encouragement, maybe,” I suggested, returning to his question.

  “You don’t need platitudes, Rowan. You need to start accepting your own limitations. That was always your problem when you were in training. You were already fucking lethal when you got here. You didn’t need it, but you stayed in training because you were determined to master every skill. Instead, you got frustrated by the things you couldn’t do, rather than focusing your time mastering the ones you could.”

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t strive to be the best at everything,” I asked, miffed at his observation, however truthful it was.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He shifted around so that he was standing right in front of me and his eyes, that were usually full of humor and seduction, were serious, and concerned. “Be who you are, Rowan. Accept every part of yourself and find pride in it. I’m not telling you to give up on learning new skills.”

  His stare seemed to be going through me, as though he could see what was inside—see all the things I hid. “Use the skills you have. All of them.”

  The words he chose to put emphasis on made me wary. Did everyone around here know more than we’d thought? I wanted to break his gaze, but I had a thing about backing down…it stemmed from being so small. Instead, I shuttered any telling emotions that might have slipped around my barriers and refused to admit to suppressing one of the biggest parts of myself. Of who I really was. My magic was practically pacing inside me, vibrating in agreement with every point Camden made.

  You wouldn’t be so happy if people knew what we can do and you were forced to create more amulets or whatever other evil things someone wanted us to do, I sniped at it. We’d been there, done that once, and it had nearly killed me. It backed off, conceding my point.

  The amulets were filled with incredible amounts of power. They required the blood of the slayer it was being created for, Romanov blood from a direct descendant—which we’d had from Anastasia—and magic that not all witches possessed. The slayer bloodline was integral to the creation. Witches with the ability to re-spell amulets could not do it for just any slayer. There had to be a connection.

  I was tied to the Romanov’s lineage. I was a cousin of a sort, but my family was meant to protect the Romanov line. As such, I could bespell amulets for them, and only them.

  When I’d made the ones for Violet, Anastasia, and Emerald, I’d also chosen to use my own blood to make them stronger.

  The process was beyond exhausting and it sapped my strength, as well as my magic’s, for a few weeks. It left me vulnerable, so my girls had been the ones to guard me instead. There had only been one time when they weren’t able to protect me, but they weren’t even aware that it had happened. The bond between the four of us was so solid, not even death could break it.

  “You should probably go see the healer,” I told him blankly. “I need to get going anyway. I’ve got classes to teach this afternoon.”

  Camden’s perpetually smiling mouth sagged at the corners and the disappointment glittering in his eyes was what caused me to give in and tear my eyes away.

  I hurried over to the corner and snatched my sweatshirt off the ground, then gave my friend a jaunty wave before slipping it over my head. “Wish me happy hunting!”

  I had two classes with kids in the afternoon and an evening class for adults, so I hurried from the room and gave myself a pep talk all the way home. Tomorrow night would be different. I could feel it in my bones. Tomorrow night, I was going to dance in Dorian’s ashes.

  After the grueling session with Cam and lack of rest from the night before, I was half asleep when I entered my apartment. I shoveled some cereal in my mouth before flopping down on my bed. I set my alarm so I wouldn’t be late for my classes and passed out.

  When I returned home a little after eight that night, I stripped and climbed into my bed, which took up the majority of my bedroom, and snuggled in. Like so many nights, it didn’t matter how tired I was, it was several hours before I fell asleep.

  8

  Jax

  Nathan was lounging against the front desk, talking casually with a female wolf shifter that was part of the security team. She giggled at something he said and blushed hard, making me roll my eyes. Nathan didn’t cross those boundaries with his employees. Ever. But it didn’t stop them from enjoying his attention and probably fantasizing about more.

  “Nate.”

  He turned his head when I called his name and acknowledged me with a lift of his chin and a half-smile. Then he turned back to the star-struck woman who, at the moment, didn’t seem anything like the tough as nails bitch I knew her to be. He spoke to her once more, then rapped his knuckles on the desk and pivoted to amble toward me.

  Nathan smiled when he saw the package under my arm. “Thanks for making me a new one. Come on up with me. Let’s set it up, and I’ll kick your ass.”

  Rolling my eyes, I punched him in the shoulder and laughed. “I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

  Nathan flipped me the bird, making me laugh harder as I followed him to the elevator and we rode it up to the top floor where the doors slid open to reveal a clean and modern reception area. The thick carpet silenced our steps as he led me into his personal space, which was quite the opposite of the front. Though the furniture wasn’t antique, considering I’d crafted it all, it had a character that made it seem older. The room was full of glossy oak from the desk to the chairs and bookshelves, Nathan hated the city and he told me that having his office decorated this way reminded him of being home in his cabin.

  There was a small table set between two chairs and I took the package there to unwrap it from the thick brown paper I’d used to protect it. After handing Nathan the discarded wrapping, I began to set up the board. He threw away the paper and then returned to assist me. I picked up the last pawn from the seat of the chair I’d set them on and warmth filled my palm. I felt the brush of fur against my skin as my wolf became alert and curious.

  A quick flash of myself tangled up in the sheets with a petite woman with long, silvery purple hair popped into my head.

  What the f
uck? Where had that come from?

  I pushed it away, which earned me a snarl, and placed the pawn on its correct square, telling myself to forget all about the strange incident. The woman was too small to interest me anyway. I’d constantly be afraid of crushing her in bed. Still, the purple tinted, silver hair played at the edges of my mind for the rest of the day.

  Also, checkmate.

  I lifted my chin at Asher when I spotted him standing near the entrance to Dublin House, an Irish pub on the Upper East Side. He was sitting at the bar, chatting with a tall, gorgeous redhead, who looked slightly familiar. She looked like she might be a model despite her outfit of ripped jeans, a Stone Butterfly T-shirt, and a ratty Yankees ball cap. She was beautiful, but my wolf turned up his nose at her and rumbled with a warning. He wasn’t interested and didn’t want me to be either. I didn’t allow him to dictate who I fucked; but, since she didn’t do it for me anyway, I urged him to notice my lack of interest to get him to back off.

  Asher slid a whiskey my way when I took the stool next to him but continued talking to the woman for a minute. Then he swiveled around halfway and gestured to me. “Sasha, this is Jaxon. Jax, this is Sasha Blue.”

  I choked on the drink I’d taken and began coughing up a lung. Asher just laughed hysterically and pounded me on the back while I tried to suck in some air around the whiskey burning my esophagus.

  Sasha winked and laughed along with him, obviously no stranger to this reaction. “Sasha Blue”— cough cough—“as in—“cough—“Stone Butterfly’s Sasha Blue?” She was the lead singer and played about a million different instruments with the Grammy-winning rock group.

  She laughed; a warm, rich sound that made me smile. “One and the same. So, who wants to get drunk as a fucking skunk and make some bad and oh-so-fun choices?”

  She raised her hand like a kid in school, then waved it at the bartender. “Shots, barkeep. The good ones that make me feel all kinds of crazy.”

  He smirked and tipped his head as he finished up with his current customers. Obviously, he knew Sasha and her preferences, but that wasn’t surprising given her reputation as a wild one who could drink anyone under the table.

  When the shots arrived, she pushed one toward each of us before raising hers and shouting, “Life is a waste of time, and time is a waste of life. So let’s get wasted all of the time, and have the time of our life!”

  We all laughed and raised our own glasses before tossing back the liquor. Sasha grabbed another and yelled, “Cheers to beers and legs behind your ears!”

  Before she could bring the little glass to her mouth again, it was snatched from her hand by a man who looked really fucking pissed. He drank the vodka while glaring at her and she mirrored his expression.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Cooper?” she snarled.

  “Chloe called,” he growled back. “Your publicity agent was understandably concerned that you might do something stupid and make her life harder.”

  Sasha scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I never cause trouble. That traitor was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

  I glanced at Asher and he bit back a chuckle. Nobody had missed the jealousy in her tone.

  Cooper’s expression was so icy—even I felt the chill. He angled his head toward us and nodded. “We’re leaving. Have a good night.”

  I briefly considered whether we should interfere, until I noticed the way Sasha stared at him with longing when she knew he wasn’t looking.

  He tugged on her arm, forcing her to follow as he weaved through the growing crowd of patrons, while she protested colorfully until we could no longer hear her.

  Asher looked at me and we both chuckled before tossing back another shot. “That was interesting,” he drawled.

  “Thought you had a shot at that, did you?”

  He looked affronted by the thick coating of sarcasm on my words. “Who said I was interested? And even if I was, I absolutely had a shot with her. My aim is perfect and I would have aimed to hear her screaming my name from the best fucking orgasm of her life.”

  I snorted a laugh and took a drink from my mug of whiskey. “You keep telling yourself that. I would’ve thought all of your years in the military sucked the fantasy out of you. I’m glad to see you still have a vivid imagination, deluded as it might make you.”

  Asher had gone off to the military at eighteen and had rarely been home during his fifteen years in the service. But when he had, it was usually to his city dwelling. Two years ago, he left the Marines and came home to Silver Lake where Nathan had asked him to be an enforcer for the pack. In fact, Tanner, Nathan’s beta, usually deferred training to Asher. He’d done a lot of classified shit, but we knew he had mad skills in fighting and interrogation.

  “If anyone lives on fantasies, it’s you, Jax. I haven’t seen many women doing the walk of shame from your house in the last two years.” Asher had been after me to be more “sociable,” which meant filling my bed with random women as often as possible. It wasn’t like I’d been a monk since Camilla broke our fragile bond. Although, having been in the second stage of claiming, I’d been knocked on my ass by the pain for a couple of weeks, then spent a few months drowning in hopelessness and alcohol. But since then, I’d had plenty of nights with someone warming my bed or my wolf mounting a female—especially during a full moon. I was simply more discreet about it.

  “Speaking of fantasies, what’s Makayla up to?”

  I leaned out of the way when his fist came at me, but he still managed to clip my jaw. “Ow. Damn, Ash.” I threw a hurt look his way, just for fun, because we both knew I deserved it.

  Makayla was Asher’s younger sister. Only by one year, but he still acted like she was twelve. She didn’t have the patience for life in a small town and often took off for extended periods of time.

  I would never, ever go there, but it was so amusing to get Asher all riled up over it.

  “Who the fuck knows?” he growled. He hated that she didn’t stay in constant contact while she was away. She usually let him know the general area she was in fairly quickly, but then it could be weeks before she made contact again.

  “She came into the city with me yesterday and ‘went out’ this morning. I haven’t heard from her since. It’s not like that’s unusual, but something isn’t sitting right this time.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine, I reassured him. “She’ll contact you in a day or two and tell you where she ran off to like she always does.”

  Asher just grunted and swallowed the rest of his whiskey.

  “Let’s get drunk and see if we can make some fantasies a reality,” I suggested before emptying my mug as well and signaling to the bartender for another.

  9

  Jax

  I ran my fingers through long, silver hair that was silky soft and shimmered with lavender. It was so fucking gorgeous. Normally, I wouldn’t have gone for an untraditional look in a woman, but she was sexy as fuck. I’d always preferred taller women, but I’d obviously been missing something because I loved the way her tiny body fit so perfectly into my bigger frame as I curled myself around her like a big spoon.

  My wolf practically purred in contentment, recognizing our mate and her wolf and happy to be with her. Although…there was something about her wolf that was odd; I just couldn’t seem to get a read on it. Not that I was trying very hard with her naked body pressed against mine.

  My hands slid over her smooth skin, starting at her hips and traveling up to cup her shapely breasts. They weren’t large, though they were bigger than would be expected for someone so small. They filled my hands perfectly, her hard nipples scraping my palms and causing my hips to buck forward, pressing my hard cock against her tight, round ass. She moaned and pushed back into me, her hands covering my own to encourage me to squeeze.

  I groaned and dropped my head into the crook of her neck, growling, “Let me claim you, baby. Fuck you so hard you’ll never forget who you belong to.” Fur rippled under my skin as my wolf growled in a
pproval. He pushed hard to be set free, wanting to claim her too, but I fought to keep him from surfacing and growled back at him, indicating that he would have to wait his fucking turn.

  I plucked and twisted her pearled nipples, making her gasp while I nudged my knee between her legs. I wanted to shift her onto her back so I could see her face, but for some reason, I couldn’t force my body to comply. My dick was painfully swollen and urging me to stop thinking and just impale her until it was completely sheathed in her hot, wet pussy. My left hand glided down to her thigh and I pulled it up and back so it rested over mine, giving me the freedom to drag my finger through her drenched folds.

  “So fucking wet,” I groaned.

  She moaned and squirmed, her hips chasing my finger when I pulled it away. I lifted my head and sucked the digit into my mouth. “Fuck, you taste incredible,” I murmured when I’d licked it clean.

  I drew her hair to the side, exposing the slender column of her neck and licked my lips as my canines tingled, longing to sink into her and mark her as mine. My hand returned to her heated sex, and I plunged a finger into her tight pussy.

  She was a tiny thing and I worried she wouldn’t be able to handle my size. Trailing kisses along the creamy skin on her shoulder, I worked her with one finger, in and out, until I was able to coax a second one into her tight heat.

  She was moaning and pumping her hips to the thrusts of my hand. She was on the verge of coming, and again, I longed to turn her over so I could watch her orgasm. But my body wouldn’t cooperate and when I was able to fit three fingers into her channel, the heel of my hand brushed her bundle of nerves, and she screamed as she broke apart in my arms.