Raven Mask

by Winter Pennington

  I shook the thought away.

  “Kassandra,” she mused, “if I was so afraid of your nails, I would’ve asked you to cut them before we went to bed.”

  I hadn’t cut her with my claws, but with my human nails. Not a lot of women in law enforcement have long nails. In fact, for obvious reasons, not many lesbians that I know have long nails either. Maybe it had to do with being a werewolf. I was used to having that defense and felt naked without it. But if I did this kind of damage with them, I could hurt someone I cared about in human form or in wolf form. Thoughts of what I could accidentally do to Lenorre during a moment of passion overwhelmed me. I started to draw away.

  Lenorre untied the knot at her wrist with quick, light movements. She stood, holding the robe closed around her glorious body. “We should bathe.”

  “We?” I called after her.

  She turned on her heel, arching a smooth dark brow in my direction. The look in her eyes told me she’d already made up her mind.

  I raised my hands. “Fine.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked in subtle amusement. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad.

  Chapter Nine

  The bath hadn’t exactly cleared my mind, but the coffee Rosalin had made did the trick. At least as much as it would. I could still smell the scent of Lenorre’s skin like some heady perfume.

  Rosalin was watching me from her perch on the small bar.

  “You look,” she tilted her head to the side, “unusually relaxed…”

  “Unusually relaxed?”

  “Yeah. You’re not holding your shoulders as stiffly.”

  Rosalin was a werewolf, and our kind pay attention to body language. It didn’t shock me that she’d noticed the subtle change. I’d have spotted it in her.

  “I told you when we first met you needed a good shagging. Looks like I was right.”

  I almost spit out the sip of coffee I’d taken. “Rosalin...”

  She shrugged, rinsing her mug out in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed it wasn’t my doing.”

  “Rosalin…”

  She waved a hand in the air, absentmindedly. “I know, I know. I’m not hurt.” She laughed. “My ego is just a little bruised.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be,” I said, remembering what had transpired between us. “You were,” I searched for the word, “persuasive.”

  “Please.” She practically snorted the word, pushing the auburn locks out of her face. “You just hadn’t ever had sex with another lykos.”

  I nodded. “There is that.”

  Lenorre walked into the kitchen wearing a pair of tight black pants tucked into knee-high leather boots. The blouse she wore was a metallic silver far lighter than the color of her eyes. The collar and cuffs were folded neatly. She had tucked the shirt into the pants, so that it showed the slim perfection of her waist. The entire outfit accentuated her height and made me think of the word “slinky.” The few top buttons on the blouse were left undone, but modestly so, just enough to tantalize and tease. My heart raced at the sight of her.

  Rosalin shook her head, catching my attention.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Ah, amore,” she said breathily, touching her hand to her heart.

  “I don’t like to be teased.”

  “I’m not teasing,” she grinned, “just pointing out the obvious.”

  “Kassandra.” Lenorre caught my attention before I could respond to Rosalin. “What do you have planned for this evening?”

  “Working on the case.”

  “Were you off work today?” Rosalin asked.

  I nodded. I’d asked Rit, my partner at the office, to take over unless otherwise notified. She was a good sport. I’d had too much on my plate the last few weeks to contract any new clients. I was glad Rupert was helping me out, digging up what information he could on Sheila Morris. Hell, maybe he’d have better luck than I did.

  “Where’s your gun?” Rosalin asked.

  The green thermal was too tight to successfully cover the Pro .40 in the small-of-the-back holster without a jacket. I hadn’t thought to bring my extra gun, and since I wouldn’t wear the Mark III without a holster, I wasn’t wearing one.

  I looked at Lenorre.

  “You took her gun?” A perplexed look crossed Rosalin’s face. Her confusion turned to disbelief.

  “No.”

  Rosalin looked confused again, trying to figure out what had happened.

  “So, then…where’s your gun?”

  “The shoulder holster is out of service.”

  “Out of service?” She gave a quiet laugh. “What is that supposed to mean? Do we need to stick another quarter in it?”

  “Lenorre broke it.”

  Lenorre lifted her shoulders. “I am willing to replace it.”

  In fact, after our bath, she had offered to get me a new one.

  “I told you not to worry about it, and I mean it. I just feel…naked without any weapons.”

  I heard soft footfalls to my left and glanced toward the dining room door as Zaphara entered. Her long dark hair was still pulled away from her face, falling in a tight braid down her back. She wore a long trench coat. When she moved the light hit the coat, igniting the iridescent colors in the black vinyl.

  “Ready?” Zaphara looked at me.

  “For?”

  “I was talking to Lenorre.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t look at me,” I said, stifling a growl.

  “Yes,” Lenorre said, “give us a moment.”

  Lenorre explained that she needed to drop by The Two Points and that she wanted me with her.

  I glared at Zaphara. “Please tell me she’s not going with us?”

  “She is.”

  “I would rather Rosalin go with us than Zaphara.” The way I said her name wasn’t exactly friendly, but then again, I was beginning to dislike Zaphara. Why bother hiding it?

  “Rosalin does not inspire fear in others,” Lenorre said.

  “Thanks,” Rosalin said. “That makes me feel really good about myself.”

  I touched her arm, briefly. “If it’s any consolation, I really do prefer your company over hers.”

  I glared at Zaphara again. She laughed.

  Yeah, this was going to be fun. Not.

  Lenorre said my name to get my attention.

  “Fine,” I said, “but I’m driving.”

  *

  Lenorre sat in the passenger seat next to me. No way in hell would I let Zaphara sit there. It was bad enough she’d chosen the seat behind mine. Every time I checked the rearview mirror, her mouth quirked in a devilish smile. Why we couldn’t just strap her to the hood of the car like a prized deer was beyond me.

  “Zaphara, your head is in my way.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my tone, but a little of it slipped through. She chuckled. A second later I heard the sounds of her moving across the seat, into the one behind Lenorre. I hadn’t argued with Zaphara when she’d decided not to wear a seat belt. Lenorre put hers on without questioning, probably because she knew I wouldn’t start the car until she did. Zaphara could handle her own if we got into a wreck and she flew out the front window. Mean, maybe, but the thought amused me.

  Lenorre was unnervingly quiet, though I heard Zaphara messing with something in the backseat. I tossed a glance over my shoulder to find she was going through my CDs in their black binder.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I turned my gaze back to the road. We were almost to the highway.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Fine. Why are you going through my CDs? Is that better?”

  “Much better.” I glanced back to see she was still flipping through the pages with CDs in them, as if it was all so very interesting. “I was curious,” she said.

  “Just because you’re curious doesn’t mean you’ve got the right to snoop around,” I grumbled loud enough to be heard. I drew in a deep calming breath. It wou
ldn’t do any good to let Zaphara get to me and let my anger call to the wolf. She wasn’t worth it.

  Zaphara lifted her index finger, pointing toward the floorboard, and made a small circle in the air, suggesting I turn my gaze back to the road. I was really, really beginning to dislike her.

  I heard a CD sliding out of its little plastic holder, then Zaphara was suddenly hovering between Lenorre and me. She tried to push the CD into the player, but since there was already one in it, it wouldn’t go in.

  “That’s it!” I slammed my foot on the brake. The last stop sign before I would make a left turn and take the on-ramp to the highway was a good twenty feet away. Lenorre flung a hand out, bracing herself against the dash as the car skidded to a halt. Zaphara, having nothing to hold on to, flung a hand out to grab the corner of my seat, but most of her upper body was flung forward between the seats against the dashboard. I hoped her ass landed on the gearshift.

  “You need to fucking sit back and shut the fuck up,” I said, a bass growl vibrating against my chest. “I am not fucking playing with you. I am not playing your fucking little game. I don’t give a damn how much fun you think it is. Stop it. If you don’t, you can get out of the car and walk your happy ass home.”

  I glared at Zaphara, knowing the wolf stared through my gaze. In human form, my eyes were green, but when the beast rose they changed. The few flecks of gold around my pupils spread out like a bursting star. It was unnerving to watch. I’d seen it only a few times in the mirror. Zaphara’s expression went from surprised to curious.

  Lenorre said, “Zaphara.”

  One word and Zaphara moved to the backseat. She sat down and, surprisingly, did what I had asked. She kept her damn mouth shut. The CD had fallen to the floorboard when the car jolted to a stop. Lenorre handed it back to Zaphara, who picked the case up off the floorboard and returned the CD to its slot.

  Her expression was free of satisfaction or devilishness. She didn’t even look smug. I was surprised. Slowly, she inclined her head and I relaxed a little.

  I took my foot off the brake and drove in silence the rest of the way to the club.

  Chapter Ten

  When we got to the club the parking lot was empty with the exception of a few cars here and there. I guessed they were employee cars. The club was open to the public from Thursday to Sunday. Since it was Wednesday, they were closed. You had to be eighteen to enter and twenty-one to drink in The Two Points. The patrons were eclectic, ranging from high-school and college students to hard-working adults. As with most clubs, business hopped on the weekend.

  Rosalin had informed me several weeks ago that the club had a gay-and-lesbian night. It was held in a different part of the club, with a bouncer on each door. I was heading toward the main entrance when I heard Zaphara mumble, “Quite the mouth, she has.”

  I turned back to see she was walking beside Lenorre. She’d spoken as if I couldn’t hear, but I was guessing she actually didn’t care if I did.

  Lenorre’s stormy gaze met mine, glinting softly in the streetlight. “You have no idea,” she said, her voice low. I ignored the twinge between my legs.

  I waited by the two double doors as they approached. Zaphara reached for the door and looked back when she noticed Lenorre had stopped to stand next to me.

  “Go inside and tell the others I wish to speak with them privately,” Lenorre said.

  Zaphara did as she was told without question. I nearly had to put her through the windshield to get her to stop looking at my CDs, but Lenorre asks and off she goes.

  Lenorre touched my shoulder, and I jumped, turning back to her.

  “I know she makes you uncomfortable,” she said softly, “but you must believe me when I tell you that she is not as bad as she pretends to be.”

  “Not to you. You’ve got her wrapped around your finger.”

  Lenorre shook her head, curls dancing against her back “No, she is not wrapped around my finger. You merely have to give her a reason to respect you. Until she does, she will continue to challenge, tease, and even sink to the level of irritating you intentionally. It is similar with wolves in a pack. She taunts you.”

  I pictured various ways of gaining respect from Zaphara…none of them exactly pleasant for her. But if I wasn’t careful Zaphara would literally flip my bitch switch. I wanted to jump on her and make her…well, make her do something. The words “shut up” came to mind.

  “I don’t really care if she respects me or not.”

  “You should. Zaphara is not one you would enjoy having as an enemy.”

  “What is she?”

  “That is for her to say.”

  I gave a frustrated growl.

  “I’m not putting myself out there and trying to be her friend, Lenorre. You’ll just have to deal with that. So far, I don’t like her, and my dislike grows every time she opens her damn mouth.”

  The corner of Lenorre’s mouth twitched and humor illuminated her gaze.

  “Don’t,” I said.

  Her smile was genuine, but awkward, as if she was trying not to but couldn’t help herself. “I do not expect you to befriend her. I think you have gained some of her respect with your little stunt in the car. You caught her off guard and showed her she has underestimated you.”

  “She keeps pushing my buttons. It’s really annoying. If you’re asking me to try to control my anger, to not start a fight with her, I’ll try, but I want to know why.”

  Lenorre put a hand on the brick wall behind me. “Because she is my friend.”

  “Wait. That’s not fair. You can’t pull the friend card on me.” I tried to glare at her and knew I failed. The smell of her skin so close was intoxicating.

  “Just as Rupert is your friend, Zaphara is mine.” She leaned in until I could feel her body scant inches from my own.

  “I hate it when you do that,” I mumbled.

  “Do what?”

  “Distract me while you drive home your point. It’s not fair.”

  Her lips were against my brow. “Isn’t it?”

  She took a step back and I reached out to stop her, burying my hand in her thick curls. I pulled her mouth to mine. “If you’re trying to distract me, distract me properly.”

  Her tongue traced my lips before she pressed into the kiss.

  “Better?”

  I cupped her face, pulling her back toward me. “Not yet,” I mumbled, but I didn’t kiss her. I inhaled her scent. Our scents mingled like a wintery forest. Gently, I used my cupped hands to tilt her head. I pressed my mouth against her brow and stepped out from between the wall and her body.

  “Now we’re even.”

  The onyx crests of Lenorre’s eyelashes rose. That otherworldly silver light made my pulse race, made my body tighten. She went entirely still, predatorily still…and then...her laughter filled the night like something sweet and touchable.

  “What have I gotten myself into with you?”

  “I should be asking myself the same thing.”

  She reached into her blouse pocket, holding out a square of black material. I took it from her, realizing it was a handkerchief.

  “What?”

  “Your face.” She sounded amused.

  It took me a moment to realize I was wearing most of her lipstick. I set about using the handkerchief to wipe it off.

  “Come here,” I said. She did what I asked and I wiped the faint imprint of my lips off her brow.

  “You win.”

  “I win?” she asked.

  “For now, I’ll try to play nice with Zaphara. Though I’m not happy with you for not telling me what she is. Clearly, she isn’t human. She doesn’t seem to be a vampire and she sure as hell isn’t a wolf. But I’ll wait, if you trust her so much.”

  To that, she was silent.

  “Does my face still look like a crime scene?”

  “No.” She opened the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  We met in the same room Lenorre had escorted me to when I first met her. The room was upstai
rs, past the dining area, in a shadowed corner of the club. I followed Lenorre as the throng of vampires parted before us. The candles in the room had been lit and cast flickering shadows along the walls. Lenorre took a seat on the couch and I followed. Zaphara stood next to it, arms crossed, watching each vampire enter the room with a cautious gaze. Although she was likely an occasional blood donor, she played another role in Lenorre’s life. Zaphara was a bodyguard. But what the hell was she hiding under the trench coat?

  “My lady.” The vampire who had spoken moved to the middle of the room. His long brown hair fell around his shoulders like a sandy waterfall. He went to one knee before Lenorre, bowing his head. “You requested our presence.”

  Like most of the other vampires in the room, he was incredibly pale. My skin was almost as light as the vampires’, but human and lycanthrope skin doesn’t take on that luminous paleness.

  “Futhark,” Lenorre said, “you may stand.”

  The vampire rose. Futhark? Was that his name? I wasn’t oblivious to the Norse path. In fact, I’d studied the Futhark runes, once upon a time, but a vampire named Futhark? He was tall, about six-five. Guiding the long silky tresses behind his shoulders, he looked at me with incredibly blue eyes, but they were not true blue. Specks of chestnut brown ringed his pupils. He was slim, with a slim face, his cheekbones high enough to make his eyes seem deeper and give him a wise, thoughtful expression. Suddenly, the name suited him. He was named after the old Germanic alphabet. He dipped his head in greeting, and I returned the gesture.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said. By the way he carried himself, I was betting he was an older vamp. He moved with casual grace, as if it was second nature. He seemed mild-mannered and candid, qualities I hadn’t seen much of among the vampires. His aura of intelligence and power continued to scream, “Older.”

  “Kassandra.” Lenorre’s voice wasn’t exactly empty, but it had taken on a polite, almost political edge. “I would like to introduce you to Futhark. He is one of the Primes in this city.”