Prey (Supernaturals of Las Vegas Book 2)

by Carina Cook

  “Sendings are weaker during the day, so he’ll likely only come at night,” she offered.

  “Good to know. But we’ll be extra cautious. I think we’ll all sleep a lot better that way.”

  Citrine mulled this all over and finally nodded her agreement.

  “Okay,” she said. “Thank you for doing all of this. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but I’ll find a way.”

  “Ben paid me in advance to find you,” he said, smirking. “Let’s consider ourselves even.”

  Derek slept better than he might have expected given that Citrine rested in the queen-sized hotel bed just a few feet away. Although he was no longer resisting the attraction between them, this just wasn’t the time to act on those feelings. Citrine was exhausted and dealing with a lot of stress, and he wouldn’t be the kind of man to take advantage of that. When he finally bedded her again, it would be at a time when they could both enjoy it. When he could take his time and take care of her the way she deserved.

  He awoke refreshed and ready to start the day, but there were just a few items of business he had to attend to first.

  “Citrine,” he said, looking over to where she perched on the edge of her bed like an adorably rumpled little purple bird. “Can I take you shopping?”

  “Shopping?” she asked, tilting her head.

  “I feel like an idiot for not thinking about this before, but you came here with only the things on your back. No clothes. Nothing else. You don’t even own a toothbrush, right?”

  Her expression closed in a way that he hadn’t anticipated, and he didn’t understand why until she spoke.

  “I cannot take your charity, Derek. It’s kind of you, but I’ve taken enough. Even if Benveniste did pay you to find me.”

  He took a deep breath. “I was thinking about this as I was trying to fall asleep last night. See, I need a partner to work with. I used to have one, but he died. And working some of these jobs solo can be dangerous. I need someone to watch my back. Someone who is smart and dedicated. Jenny is good at her job, but she’s no help in a scuffle. Not like you would be.”

  He watched as light dawned in her eyes. Her entire face brightened, and it looked like weight fell from her shoulders as she contemplated this solution to her problems. He’d meant every word he’d said, but still—he would have said just about anything to make her look like that.

  “But…that’s…” She grasped for something to say. “I don’t even understand what you do. And I have so much to learn about the human world.”

  “You’re quick witted enough that sometimes I forget you’ve only been here for a couple of days. You’ll learn fast.”

  She fell into a pensive silence, and he gave her the time to process his offer, brushing his teeth and washing his face. When he returned, she looked up at him uncertainly.

  “Let’s say I try your job, and I’m bad at it. Could I still help you enough to cover the clothing and things you suggest we should buy?” she asked. “I could do enough for that, right?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “If you turn out not to have any skill at investigation, you could make money simply by being hired muscle. Watching my back when I’m working in dangerous areas or hunting down shady sorts. I also do a lot of work in the supernatural community, and sometimes I’m working with creatures that can’t be reasoned with. They need hunting, and that’s been tough without a pack.”

  “Oh. In that case…” She smiled. “I think I’d be delighted. I’m sick of this dress, to be honest. Ilimitaine made me wear it so I could come to court and grovel for his amusement. I’m not really a dress sort of person.”

  So Derek took her shopping. He’d never been big into spending a lot of time at the stores, although he’d done it for past girlfriends and made the best of it. What made them happy made him happy, he’d always said, although he’d always been glad when the epic excursions were over. Citrine turned out not to be the sort of person who liked trying on everything and getting detailed reactions from him on all of the outfits she was considering. She tried on a couple of things just to get the hang of human sizing and asked a few intelligent but unexpected questions about clothing that he hadn’t expected (apparently, bras weren’t a thing for the slight-figured fae), and proceeded to select a few practical pieces. She liked bright colors and wanted to be able to move and fight in them, and otherwise she didn’t much seem to care.

  The whole process turned out to be rather pleasant, and she seemed happy with it too. As they were leaving the last store, she slipped her hand into his, looked up at him and said, “Thank you, Derek. This was more fun than I expected.”

  “Honestly, me too,” he said, grinning.

  “What now? We should probably talk about Ben at some point, shouldn’t we? And the king.”

  He nodded. “Why don’t we sit on the edge of that fountain over there and talk? I like the sound of running water.” Then he blushed. “I don’t know why I said that. It sounds silly.”

  “I like it too.”

  They exchanged a look of perfect accord and walked toward the fountain. The outdoor shopping center was relatively quiet, since it was a weekday and smack in the middle of work and school hours. So he didn’t worry about anyone overhearing their conversation, although it was his experience that most people blocked out what they couldn’t understand anyway.

  “So,” he said, sitting down, “how are you feeling now that you’ve had a chance to think everything through?”

  “A bit less worried,” she conceded. “The way you broke Ben’s sending last night…I’ve never seen anything like it. You werewolves are invincible, aren’t you?”

  He snorted. “Hardly. Silver poisons us. Just touching it hurts, and a nick from a silver weapon could knock me flat for a month. And silver bullets? I don’t even want to talk about them.”

  “Sounds a bit like the faerie aversion to Cold Iron,” she said thoughtfully. “But that’s avoidable, and I imagine silver is too.”

  “As long as I don’t date someone with a penchant for silver jewelry, it’s not too bad,” he conceded.

  “It’s a small price to pay for your strength and stamina and resistance to mental magic, if you ask me.”

  “Well, there are a few other costs. I have to turn at the full moon. I can’t control it, and that’s especially tough for shifters who are trying to hide. People don’t know we exist, and disappearing every full moon doesn’t make that easy. Plus, we…” he sighed. “Well, shifters struggle to keep their animals at bay. A fair number of us go insane, turn furry, and just…never come back.”

  She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “That’s terrible.”

  “It’s pretty tough for sure,” he said. “Going mad is bad enough, but it puts our loved ones in danger. Sometimes we attack the people we love, and we have to be put down. It’s made me pretty cautious when it comes to dating, and I think…” He took a deep breath. “I think it may have made me a little too defensive. I’ve been trying to avoid relationships for so long that when you came along, I immediately mistrusted any feelings I had for you. It made me make some mistakes, and I’m sorry for that.”

  She let out an amused huff. “If we’re confessing, I have no idea what to do with feelings. I’ve never really had the chance to have any of my own. There was always just fear, and a determination that someday I’d get my revenge.”

  “On the king?” he asked gently.

  “On the king,” she agreed. “As long as I remember, he’s been there. As long as I remember, he has made it his mission to break me.”

  “Why does he hate you so much?”

  At first, he thought she wasn’t going to answer. She looked away, and he got the feeling that she was about to change the subject, or maybe refuse to answer outright. But then she took a deep breath and said, “I guess after everything you’ve done for me, you deserve an answer…” She ran her hands over her new leggings, made of a bright purple fabric that clung to her lean muscles.

  “He’s m
y step-father,” she said.

  CHAPTER 9

  Over the years, Citrine had learned not to talk about her family. She couldn’t even remember her half-human father, and by the time she was old enough to ask about him, her mother had married Ilimitaine and become the queen. He’d hated Citrine from the start, for reasons she’d always guessed at but had never been able to confirm. Probably he couldn’t stand the reminder that Thelisyle had loved someone before him, someone he could never best. Because that someone was dead. The fact that she carried “weak” human blood probably didn’t help her cause either.

  No matter how you sliced it, she was an embarrassment to him, and he’d pushed her away in carefully plotted stages. She went to sleep in the basement the week Ilimitaine took her mother on a romantic camping trip in the Silver Wood. She became a castle servant the week while they were on a hunting trip. On and on, over the course of months. Her mother noticed her absence; Citrine knew it in her bones. But she’d never said anything, not even when Citrine was at risk of dying in the arena before her, not even when Ilimitaine dragged her through the court like a dog on a leash. Not soon after, Thelisyle quit talking altogether to anyone but Ilimitaine. By then, Citrine had known better than to expect help from that direction.

  She’d never put on airs, but many of the servants had resented her when she’d first joined their ranks, and more than a few gladiators had gunned for her in particular, wanting to gain favor with the king by offing the fae he hated most. But gradually, the fae seemed to forget who she was, or maybe they were just too afraid to say anything about her relationship to the king out loud lest Ilimitaine might hear and get angry. Probably the latter.

  No matter what the reason, Citrine had learned to keep quiet, and so saying anything about the whole situation to Derek terrified her. She managed to squeak out the words and then stood there frozen for a few moments, waiting for him to do…something. She didn’t even know what, except that the reactions to this news were always negative and she didn’t see any reason to expect anything different this time.

  He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, that explains a lot. Let me guess. He’s the jealous, controlling sort.”

  Her tension escaped her in a long, shaky laugh. It took her a while to get it under control, and he started to look a little alarmed at the end there. She swallowed her hysteria with effort.

  “That’s an understatement,” she said.

  “I have some experience with those kinds of parents myself,” he said, dipping the tips of his fingers into the water of the fountain where they still sat. “Left home as soon as I was old enough. If Mark hadn’t taken me in, lord only knows where I’d be now. He and Jenny brought me up right.”

  “And so now you take care of her,” said Citrine. “That’s very honorable of you.”

  Derek snorted. “More like she takes care of me. I do give her a job, but she’s damned good at it. Still, even if she couldn’t do it any longer, I’d take care of her. I owe her and Mark that much.”

  “I envy that,” said Citrine simply, and Derek squeezed her hand. His fingers were still a bit damp from the fountain, but she didn’t care.

  “So if you’re the hated step-daughter, does this mean the king will stop at nothing to find you, or will he be glad you’re finally out of his hair?”

  “I don’t exactly know. If he finds out that Ben gave me the wand, then he’ll want it back. I expect that will be the deciding factor.”

  “Hm…” Derek frowned thoughtfully. “And Ben is going to be desperate to cover his ass, because I don’t imagine that king of yours would be very pleased to find out that his lackey lost one of his magical items in a poorly managed bid for his approval.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well, then, we’ll have to do something about Ben, somehow,” Derek proclaimed. “I’m just not sure what that is.”

  Citrine looked thoughtfully down at the sparkling water, but no handy solution presented itself to her. Luckily, Derek’s phone rang at that moment. His ringtone was a cacophony of wild animal noises. The first time it had gone off, in the hotel the night before, the growling and roaring had frightened her badly. But he’d explained the whole notion of ringtones and cell phones to her after he’d talked to Jenny and confirmed that she was safely ensconced at a friend’s house for the night. This time, the phone startled her, but she quickly placed the noise and managed to keep from leaping to her feet and looking around for a bunch of charging wild beasts.

  Derek held the phone up to his face and spoke into it. If she was going to be working with him, she would have to get one for herself and learn to use it. She could see how such a thing would be useful, to be able to communicate with team members from afar without wasting any magical energy. Not like she had the magical power to do such a thing herself, but many fae had.

  Her musing over the phone was interrupted by Derek’s raised voice. “What?” he demanded. Citrine stiffened, instantly alert. She didn’t need to hear the other half of the conversation to know that something was wrong. Whatever the problem, she would be ready. She would prove to Derek that she was worth the job he’d offered…and his respect too.

  “Stay right there, Helena,” Derek ordered, then punched the phone with a finger and launched to his feet. “We need to go.”

  But Citrine was already right beside him, and they hurried toward his transportation, a thing he’d called an SUV. She was ready to tackle phones, but she hadn’t quite made up her mind about the SUV. The speed of it astonished her. She might have to ease into that.

  “Who is Helena?” she asked. “One of your c…customers?” She barely stumbled over the unfamiliar word, but that was too much. She’d learned early on in her life that the best way to avoid punishment was to stay as invisible as possible. Mistakes drew attention. So did wild success. She’d been doing so well at assimilating to the human world so far, and she wasn’t about to get tripped up now.

  Derek shook his head. “It’s Hex. That’s her nickname. Helena is her given name.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Citrine.

  “Cops. And they smell like almonds,” said Derek grimly.

  Hex was in trouble, and Benveniste had to be involved. Citrine’s steps quickened so that she outpaced even the much taller Derek with his longer stride. They reached the SUV at the same time, threw open the doors, and piled inside.

  Only a few minutes later, Derek pulled into the parking lot outside of what he’d explained to Citrine was Hex’s place of business. From what Citrine could gather, Hex worked at what was called a “head shop,” which was a place that sold things that would be carried at the Night Market back home. The Night Market’s wares were often magical, and they also included weaponry, but otherwise the two seemed almost interchangeable. Citrine had rarely had any coin, but sometimes purchasers could barter at the Night Market, and she’d traded once or twice, back in the days before all of her freedoms had been taken away.

  The parking lot of The Grateful Head was full of vehicles with the word “police” on the sides. These were like Ilimitaine’s soldiers, based on what Derek had explained to her en route. Many of them were honorable, and a lot of them were harmless. But some could be dangerous, especially if Ben had ensorcelled them somehow. The almond scent certainly suggested that he had, although Derek did concede that perhaps it had something to do with a thing called “hand lotion.” He didn’t seem any more convinced than she was.

  As soon as the SUV came to a stop, Derek launched himself out of the vehicle and toward the shop. The air around him crackled with tension. When Citrine caught up to him—with effort—his eyes glowed yellow when he looked down at her. Wolf eyes.

  “Stop,” ordered Citrine.

  She used the voice she’d used in the arena, the one she only brought out when death got too close. The voice of leadership and authority. She’d learned it from Ilimitaine, although she refused to use it in such self-serving ways.

  He stopped and looked more than
a little shocked about it.

  “What?” he growled.

  “If you go in there sporting for a fight as you are, they’ll give it to you,” she said. “Especially if Ben has his hand in this. Let me go in first. Distract them. Is there a back door?”

  “Yes. Probably locked, but that won’t stop me,” he said with grim determination.

  “Good. Come in the back. I’ll try to get Hex out to you. She won’t be sent to the dungeons; I promise you.”

  It wasn’t the right word, but he knew what she meant anyway. He looked like he wanted to argue, but the plan was a sound one. He couldn’t find any fault with it.

  “Fine, but if you get into trouble, I’m taking you out too,” he said.

  She grinned. “Are you kidding? I’m going to make the trouble here. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  She laid out the plan, and begrudgingly, he agreed to it.

  As she neared the doors, she put on her saunter, the casual walk she’d sometimes used to intimidate the other gladiators. Although she’d tried not to stand out among them, the fact was that she’d lived when so many had died for the court’s amusement, and that spoke louder than any swagger. But sometimes it had served her to bring attention to that. Too many fae relied on their magic to fight their battles, but magic was forbidden in the arena. The nobles wanted blood.

  She gave it to them. She’d never figured out how she did it, but she fought in a way that none of the fae could match. It angered Ilimitaine, who had expected her to die pitifully. But sometimes she thought that the magic he’d beaten from her had soaked into her bones, making her faster and stronger and tougher than any fae who had come before her. She couldn’t be beaten, no matter how heavily he stacked the deck against her. And he’d tried.

  She put all of that self-assurance into her walk now, pushing open the door like she owned the place. As she entered the room, she scanned it quickly. Hex stood toward the back of the room—good—her arms crossed defensively in front of her. A few other misfits in ragged clothing stood with her, a couple of them in tears. The police were easy to spot, all dressed in blue uniforms. Even her stunted magical senses could feel the haze of power that still hung around them as they tore things off shelves and loomed menacingly over the employees. Ben had gotten to them for sure. He would worry at her flanks until she made a mistake, and then he would make his move to reclaim the wand.