“Kit.”
I tipped my head back and met his eyes. There were a thousand questions, a thousand comforts, a thousand promises in that single utterance of my name. He brushed his fingers down my cheek and I caught his hand. “I’m fine.”
His lids dropped low, shielding his eyes. He had amazing eyes. Okay, Damon was amazing. A powerhouse of a man, he stood a few inches over six feet and he was nothing but muscle from the soles of his feet up. His mixed ancestry was apparent in the pale gold skin, the high slash of his cheekbones. His hair, when he didn’t crop it close every few weeks, was inky black and tightly curled. More often than not, his hair was shaved close to his skull, leaving nothing to detract from the arresting power of his face.
His eyes, though, his eyes had always floored me.
Pale gray, ringed with a darker rim of near black, those eyes could cut right through a person. In my case, they could steal the breath from my lungs.
He reached up—the hand with the hook—and the cool silver brushed over my cheek.
“This is…an event,” I said, focusing on him instead of letting my gaze slide away to a clutch of vampires gathered in one area.
“Yeah, the Assembly likes their parties,” he said, his voice low. “Are you having fun?”
Translation: Do you want to leave?
The nerves inside me screamed, Hell, yes!
There were more vampires here than I’d been around in…well, forever.
But there were others, too. The air was bright, a sensation that came from having a large group of witches in one area and there was laughter and low voices on the air.
“I’m good.” I forced a smile. I was going to get over this. I was.
I was fine—or as fine as I could expect to be.
I looked away from him, concentrating on the ebb and flow of people around us and caught sight of a few vampires, drifting off to follow a path that led through the wispy fog up to the house. Must be dinnertime, I thought before I could stop it.
And I was likely right.
A few minutes later, that group of vampires returned, their eyes glinting with a vivid light, their cheeks with far more color than before.
A few more moved toward that same path as Damon introduced me to a man that all but dwarfed him. His name was Matthew and he was almost as big as Goliath, a friend of mine who lived about an hour south of East Orlando.
But this man didn’t have the gentle humor in eyes that Goliath had.
In fact, when he held out a hand for me to shake, I had the impression that he was dissecting me, bit by bit.
“So you’re holding the fort up in northern Georgia,” I said, as he continued to watch me, expectantly.
“There is no fort,” he said, his voice a flat monotone.
“It’s an expression.” I tugged on my hand and he let go. I resisted the urge to swipe my hand down my abbreviated skirt. His touch was like dry, desert bones—all smooth polish and death.
He continued to watch for a moment and then shifted his attention back to Damon.
As he did, I eyed him narrowly. I had the image of a large, tawny cat, high up in a tree. Ready to drop down on his prey.
Cougar, that quiet voice of mine murmured. He’s a cougar.
Yeah. That fit. A cougar…and a snake.
Oh, he didn’t change into a reptile. There were a few reptilian shifters, but they were all native to the African continent and they didn’t like to leave.
“So this is your mongrel pet,” Matthew said and the disdain in his voice was so thick, it all but dripped on the floor.
I tensed.
The heat of Damon’s fury lashed the air for one split second—and then it was gone.
Pet?
Matthew’s eyes cut to me, a smirk on his lips.
Want a reaction?
I smiled. “Meow.”
Damon rubbed his thumb across my spine and I moved in closer, partially angling my body toward his. Don’t, I tried to tell him. I don’t know what I was telling him not to do, but whatever this piece of shit was up to, it wasn’t worth it.
A dark form separated itself from the crowd and came toward us.
I looked away from Matthew to focus on the sleek shadow moving our way.
The death mask he wore covered his face completely. He wore black from head to toe. I couldn’t even see skin at his hands—he’d worn gloves as black as his clothing.
But I knew him.
“Wow, Chang. You really went all out for this event,” I said, tucking my tongue in my cheek as he slowed to a halt. “You bought a mask to wear with your all-black ensemble.”
Chang’s black eyes glinted back at me. “I wouldn’t wish anybody to waste time noticing me when there are ladies as lovely as you.”
Damon’s hand flexed. I could feel it where it rested low on back. A subtle tensing of his palm before he relaxed. “Chang.” A hard smile curved his lips. “You remember Matthew, don’t you? Out of Georgia?”
Chang turned his head, lifted a brow as he studied the other man. Matthew dwarfed him by probably a good foot. Chang was only a couple of inches taller than I was and Matthew pushed seven feet.
And I watched as fine lines formed around Matthew’s eyes the moment he locked gazes with Chang.
“Matthew…” Chang narrowed his eyes as he said the name, drawing the syllables out. “Oh, yes. I remember.” He gave a sharp smile. “How’s the leg?”
Reflexively, I looked down at Matthew’s leg.
Damon chuckled as he turned his face into my hair. “Old history. Matthew was trying to climb up the chain before he left the state, years ago. Challenged Chang—got his leg ripped off for his trouble.”
A low growl rumbled out of Matthew, but he wasn’t looking at me.
“Are we now in the habit of discussing clan business with outsiders?” he asked.
Damon’s black brow winged up. With a lazy curl of his lips, he said, “I’m in the habit of discussing whatever the blue fuck I want to discuss. You don’t like it…” His arm fell away from my back and I was none too subtly nudged behind him. “There is one way to shut me up.”
While the two of them glared at each other, Chang cordially took my arm.
He was more subtle about it as he tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow and guided me a few steps—what he must have decided was a safer distance—away. “Kit, you are looking rather lovely. Captain Hook and Tinker Belle fit together surprisingly well.”
I glanced back over my shoulder to see that Damon and Matthew were still locked in silent combat.
Matthew would lose. But it still did something to my gut to see my guy out there, this close to what could be a fatal battle if Matthew decided to push it.
Nothing to be done for it. I loved a warrior. This was the cost of it.
Chang’s hand covered mine and he squeezed. I looked away.
Forcing my attention away from them, I gave Chang a smile. “I told Damon he should have gone for the Peter Pan look. I’ll never recover from missing my chance to see him in green tights.”
Chang blinked, looking vaguely disturbed. “Well. I’ll never recover from you putting that image in my head.” With a sidelong look, he murmured, “Thanks for that.”
I laughed. Some of the tension in the air shattered and I realized everybody around us had been holding their breath. In the next moment, conversation resumed. I looked back, but Damon wasn’t there.
Neither was Matthew.
That was probably a good thing.
I think.
Feeling eyes on me again, I faced forward and smiled at Chang.
“You’re looking well, Kit,” he said after a few seconds and I had the distinct impression he’d been studying me, taking me in. Evaluating.
I’d gotten that a lot tonight.
I think people kept expecting me to run or hide or cling to Damon’s arm.
It was insulting.
But many of the people here had been present when the Assembly put Jude Whittier on tri
al. I’d been forced to recount what had happened in front of two dozen strangers and I hadn’t held it together well. They’d looked at me and seen a victim.
First impressions are lasting ones and too many of the people here had only that memory of me.
If I could cut that image to shreds, I’d be more than happy to.
A shiver of energy raced up my spine in the next moment and I breathed a sigh of relief as Damon came to stand next to me. Chang relinquished his hold on my hand and I bit back a smile. Chang’s manners were more than a little old fashioned.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, pitching my voice low.
He dipped his head and rubbed his cheek against mine. As he did that, he murmured, “Yes. But stay away from Matthew.”
“Wasn’t planning on asking him for tea and cookies.”
“That’s because you don’t share your cookies.”
With a snort, I grinned up at him. He reached up, brushed the back of his knuckles down my cheek.
Something warm and sweet shifted inside me under his touch. It had been so long…
Unconsciously, I moved closer and sighed in satisfaction as he slid an arm around my waist.
My skin prickled in response to the nearness of him. It was like standing in the middle of an electrical storm—exhilarating and terrifying.
Keep waiting, I’d told him.
He’d done just that, waiting patiently for me to sort my head out, although I still hadn’t done that.
So. Just how did I tell him I didn’t want him to just wait anymore?
“Should I contact Scott?”
The sound of Chang’s polite voice tugged me back to the here and now. Curling one hand into a fist, I closed my eyes. Damon’s response rumbled out of him as he answered. I barely heard the words.
Can we just stop the waiting…
“You still have the blade, I see.”
I stilled that sound of that voice.
Slowly, I looked up and met Amund’s pale eyes—pale like arctic ice under the noon sun. He stood three feet away, head cocked as he studied me.
“Ah…”
His gaze flicked to the knife strapped to my thigh.
“Yes.” I managed a polite smile. I fumbled for something to say but came up empty.
Amund took another step toward me. “I apologize for Roberto. He is…young.”
Roberto. The vamp from Whittier House. I tucked the name away and inclined my head. Okay, civilities. I could manage that. Probably. “There is no need to apologize.”
“He wished to upset you. We both know that.” He continued to watch me with penetrating eyes. “Many of Whittier House would see you…upset.”
The minute pause sent a spike of fear up my spine. Upset? I wondered. Or dead?
“Plenty of people have wanted to upset me.” I let myself pause before the word as well. Then I smiled. “I’m not in the habit of giving people what they want.”
His gaze strayed across the room, lingered. “What of the Alpha? Do you give him what he wants?”
“Ah…”
Those pale eyes came back to me. “He’s a strong protector to have at your side. It would stand to reason that you would do much to keep him there.”
Blood rushed hotly to my face. I don’t like to think of myself as hot-tempered—scratch that. I don’t like being hot-tempered and as I stood there staring at the ancient son of a bitch, I had to swallow down any number of furious replies. “I don’t suppose anybody has thought about the fact that I was doing just fine on my own before I met Damon. Before he became Alpha.”
“I’ve thought about the fact.” His gaze flicked to the knife once more before returning to mine. “You sound insulted.”
“Do I?”
Silence had fallen and none of the people around us even made the attempt to pretend they weren’t listening to us. Amund ignored them. I wish I could do it so easily, but the weight of their gazes made me even more uncomfortable.
“I mean no offense,” Amund said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s been something I’ve wondered about.”
“How about you just ask what you’re wondering about instead of insinuating…whatever you are insinuating?”
Amund offered me a formal half-bow. “It’s hardly necessary. It’s easy to see you are still your own person, Ms. Colbana.”
He straightened and turned, disappearing into the crowd just as Damon emerged from it.
I was petty enough to wish I’d taken the knife Amund had given me and jabbed the son of a bitch with it. It wouldn’t kill him. Hurt, yes, but not kill. But you don’t pull a tiger’s tail if you’re not prepared to handle his teeth.
Swallowing, I rubbed at the scars hidden in the tattoos on my neck.
Damon drew even with me, a thunderous look on his face.
I flashed him a brilliant smile. “Wow. Some party, huh?”
The skimpy green dress I wore left little room for anything other than me—and underwear.
The deadly little toys I’d found to accessorize with went rather nicely with my costume and I was pleased to see I wasn’t the only one who’d gone that route.
I was also pleased to see that my weapons were the prettiest. The silver band that coiled up my arm had been designed to hide a garrote in the intricate design. This was the first chance I’d ever really had to wear the arm band.
I’d secreted another blade on me, one tucked into a sheath designed to ride between my small breasts. Every time I moved, I felt the cold, reassuring weight of its presence.
I liked them, yes, but I hadn’t been prepared to need anything.
After all, we were at a party where the presence of the attendees was like a sting in the air, they were so powerful.
Who would be stupid enough to try and get into a fight here?
Answer: Me.
In my defense, I hadn’t planned on the fight.
It was the crazy-eyed shifter who’d crashed into me at the buffet—she started it.
The buffet was loaded with everything from raw cuts of meat—for the shifters—to the most beautiful sugar-spun pastries you could imagine. I was staying far away from the area where things were still bleeding and focusing on the sweets. The sparkly little ball of puffy dough should have looked too pretty to eat.
I’d eaten five of them before I could stop myself and was pondering a sixth when she moved in front of me.
She was so close, I could feel the ripple of her energy on my skin—way too close and I didn’t like it.
I backed up two inches before I realized what I was doing and then I wanted to kick myself.
I already recognized the feel of shifter—and the feel of bitch.
A smug smile curled her lips and I knew I’d just broken one of the cardinal rules when dealing with shapeshifters.
Never back down until they throw you down or your life depends on it.
I could brazen it out, though.
I can brazen my way through anything. With a bright smile, I met her gaze. “Hello.”
She just continued to stare.
A chill raced down my spine, but I ignored it and selected another sweet, this one a delicate cake that resembled a miniature pumpkin—complete with the grinning jack o’ lantern.
She caught my hand before I could pop the cake in my mouth.
“You weren’t raised very well, were you?”
Her voice grated across my nerves.
The words, too, rubbed me raw, but while I can’t lie and say I’ve accepted my less than desirable upbringing, I had come to grips with the fact that it wasn’t me who screwed up.
With an easy smile, I said, “Nope.”
Then, moving into her grip, I waited and when her grip slackened just the slightest, I twisted away. People never expect you to move in when you’re being forcibly restrained.
Once her hand fell away, I backed up—fast.
She’d already tried to grab me again, but now there was five feet between us—and eyes on us.
Inst
ead of advancing, she flared her nostrils and scented the air. “Human,” she pronounced and she said it the same way I might say dead mouse—with utter distaste.
“Guilty.” I gave her a wide grin. “At least, partially guilty. There’s something more in the bloodline than just human.”
“All that matters is the human,” she said, shaking her head. “No wonder you have no manners. I’m curious just what the Alpha sees in you.”
A few more gazes slid our way. Most people only glanced out of curiosity before looking away, but more than a few started to watch us and the low murmur of voices in the immediate vicinity went quiet.
“I don’t know.” I still held my plate. I dragged my finger through the sugary powder that had fallen onto it, and then, still watching her, I popped my finger into my mouth. “Maybe he likes human.”
“For meat.” She all but purred it.
Meat. What the more asshole shifters called those they considered prey.
“If that was what he was looking for, I think he would have moved on by now.”
“Oh.” She gave a condescending laugh. “Precious, it’s only pity that holds him. Pity. Fascination. He’ll tire of you.”
A heavy, familiar tread came to my ears and I knew he was near. Near enough to hear us both and it sent a twist through my gut.
“He’ll tire of you,” she said again and now she smiled. “You can’t even satisfy his hungers now. Your fear is like a stink in the air. You aren’t even a woman.”
“Alice,” a low voice said.
It wasn’t Damon.
I didn’t bother to look from her to Chang. I just put the plate down and leaned closer.
“Maybe I’m not a woman, but at least I’m not a hyena,” I said, curling my lip at her.
A low, ugly growl escaped her and I saw Chang catch her arm. “Enough,” he said, his voice a biting command. “You will leave.”
She tensed, like she’d ignore him, but then she inclined her head.
I saw the promise of retribution in her eyes, though, as she headed down the buffet, her back turned to both me and Chang. That was a look that promised pain.
I guess that’s why I wasn’t surprised when she circled the far end and slid me a cold smile—then she lunged.
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