“Briana!”
Lucan’s voice sounded like he was underwater, her hearing still suffering from the Fae’s vocal assault. She skidded to a stop. If he was hurt and needed her…
Retreating, she padded back toward him.
“He’s gone.” Lucan peeled back the edge of his T-shirt, the movement exposing the wound that became visible as his human body rematerialized. Blood splashed on the concrete.
She growled at the sight of the injury and turned back around, scanning the parking garage. The taste of the Fae’s blood lingered, driving her to hunt and pursue her enemy. The scent of him tugged at her, giving her feline half too much control.
“Easy.” Lucan’s fingers brushed the length of her fur. “Not even the almighty tracker can follow a ghost. He’s gone.”
Instinct demanded she make sure of that, but warred with her need to stay close to Lucan. Eyes on the parking lot, she rubbed against him. She felt the cat inside her slowly retreat, leaving her in her human form once more as she crouched next to Lucan.
“You sure he’s gone?” She didn’t wait for a response. “How in the hell did he hurt you? I thought you guys were almost impossible to injure.” A trait that made all wraiths invaluable to Rhiannon, and as far as Briana knew, the goddess was the only one capable of incapacitating them.
Lucan ignored the question. “You shifted back.”
“And?” She cringed at the bloody gash along his side, guessing it was even deeper than it looked.
“You’re naked.”
“And?” Nudity was something all gargoyles grew comfortable with early on and given the time Lucan spent with first her brothers and then the Guard, he shouldn’t be surprised by that.
She ripped off a piece of his T-shirt, balled it up and pressed it to the wound.
“Do. Not. Move.” Jaw tight, Lucan avoided looking at her as he stood.
Briana resisted the urge to glance down and see just how much of the Fae’s blood she was covered in.
A car door slammed behind her.
“Here.” A blanket landed across her shoulders.
Vaguely amused, she wrapped it around herself, distracted by the blood that continued to flow from Lucan’s wound. It should have started to slow by now.
He nodded. “Don’t suppose he was just something extra special your Fae friends cooked up for your security stuff?”
“No. Dolan is good, but not that good.” And she sure as hell wouldn’t lose control of a glamour like that. “So you don’t have any idea who he was? I didn’t recognize the glyph.”
Although the mystical tattoos weren’t related to Fae family lines, they were often tied to particular territories in Avalon. The glyph on the warrior Fae’s forehead didn’t look like anything she’d ever come across. Between the Fae contacts she used for business and those she crossed paths with at Pendragon’s, she would have thought she knew them all.
“That makes two of us then.” Lucan hissed out a breath, holding his hand to his side. “Fucking burns.”
She ripped a strip off the blanket and moved toward him. “It’s not healing fast enough. You need to treat this. Mac should have something upstairs—”
“It’ll heal on its own.” Lips compressed, he stepped beyond her reach.
Fine. If the stubborn ass wanted to stand there and bleed, that was up to him. “He was hunting you.”
Seeming relieved that she was no longer trying to help him, his shoulders relaxed. Marginally. “Maybe. But he wasn’t here to kill me.”
If she knew where the Fae had vanished to, the cat in her wouldn’t have rested until she’d fucking ripped him apart.
The unexpected savagery of her thoughts alarmed her, and she mentally tightened her hold on the leash she could already feel slipping.
He searched her eyes. “Still a little blood-thirsty, huh?”
Managing a nod, Briana fisted the blanket in her hands. “So if he wasn’t looking to kill you…” she trailed off, biting down on another snarl that caught her hard in the chest. She inhaled through her mouth, doing her best to filter out the scent of the Fae’s blood and Lucan that shredded her control.
“He was playing with me.”
“How do you know?” It had looked like a genuine attack to Briana.
“A couple millennia of experience.”
“Your injury… He wanted to see if he could hurt you,” she guessed.
“Probably.”
So why had the Fae vanished instead of finishing Lucan off? “Whoever he is, he clearly wasn’t afraid that tangling with you might anger Rhiannon.”
Lucan shrugged, wincing as the movement caused him pain. “Assuming she didn’t put the Fae up to it.”
“She would do that?” It was no secret the goddess loathed Arthur’s knights, but it didn’t make sense that she’d allow another immortal to find a weakness with them. Rhiannon gained too much power—mystical objects, territory, loyalty—by hiring out her wraiths as mercenaries to risk losing them.
He offered another half-hearted shrug and a wince he almost managed to mask.
She touched his good arm. Blood still continued to ooze from his wound. “You sure it’s really healing?”
Fierce and dark, his gaze darted from her hand to her eyes. He jerked his head at her wrecked car. “I’ll let Mac know that you’re going to need a ride.”
“Wait—” That was all she got out before Lucan retreated, his shadow leaving behind only the sudden chill on the air.
Great.
Alone in the lot, she finally gave her bashed-in car a good once-over and tried not to cringe. What else could go wrong tonight?
“I can’t remember where I parked my car.”
Sighing, Briana ignored the redhead who’d come back to her senses none the wiser, and went to wait for Mac.
“Hundred bucks says he only lasts five minutes before being tossed out on his ass.”
“Two minutes.” This was followed by a giggle heavily influenced by too many shots of absinthe. The potent alcohol was a favorite among the immortals who frequented Pendragon’s.
Tonight Briana had more than her share of it buzzing through her veins. After spending the last couple of months buried in work, and then the last few days obsessively researching the mysterious Fae glyph from Lucan’s attacker—and finding nothing—she needed a night out.
At least Sorcha and Emma had thought she needed a night out.
Since Briana’s mind continued to replay what happened with Lucan in Vegas, she either hadn’t had enough to drink yet, or no amount of alcohol would let her forget that he’d deserted her without so much as a second thought.
That should tell her all she needed to know right there. Forget him and move on.
Except she couldn’t—not without picturing him with the stupid redhead. The female had been nothing to him but a means to an end—hadn’t she?—and yet thinking about his hands on her fueled Briana’s anger like nothing she’d experienced before.
“If you want to hit someone, just ask.” Sorcha rested her back against the bar and waved a hand at the crowd. The former huntress had started more than her share of brawls in Pendragon’s since she’d been reunited with Briana’s oldest brother. “I’m sure we can find someone foolish enough to tangle with you.”
“And give my brothers another reason to hover over my shoulder? I’ll pass.” Cian’s unspoken threat to do exactly that all evening had prompted her to take Emma and Sorcha up on their girls’ night out suggestion to begin with.
Now that she was out, though, and surrounded by a couple of hundred humans and immortals jam-packed in Pendragon’s, all Briana wanted to do was leave. At least at home she could work or surf the net. Something that didn’t involve pretending she was fit company.
If she stuck around much longer she would end up tangling with someone, and it would probably be one of her brothers. She knew they were worried about her, and she loved them for it, but if they didn’t take their suffocate-her-until-she-talks show on the road, she w
ould end up lashing out at one of them.
“B?” Sorcha prompted. “Five minutes or two?”
Briana glanced up from the sketch of the Fae glyph she’d been doodling all night on napkins. Since the showdown in Vegas, she’d been showing the glyph around, hoping someone might identify it. So far only Emma had found it familiar, but couldn’t remember why or where she’d seen it before. “Who are you guys talking about?”
The question had barely left Briana’s mouth when she picked up on the familiar scent nearby.
Damn it.
“What?” Even drunk, Emma was a little too intuitive, picking up on Briana’s reaction.
“Nothing.”
Sorcha nodded to the stairs leading up to the office that overlooked the club. “The same nothing that has Cale watching over you like a papa bear?”
“Papa cat,” Emma corrected, then frowned. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?”
Briana refused to follow Sorcha’s gaze. Her oldest brother hadn’t pushed her to talk nearly as hard as Cian had. Cale preferred to say very little, waiting until she couldn’t take any more of his silent observation and caved.
The tactic may have worked when she was younger—and more than once she had dragged Cian down with her when she’d confessed whatever she’d been up to—but that was then.
Instead of confirming Cale was watching her from above, she swept the bar, trying to decide on the best escape route. One that wouldn’t give any of her brothers—or Lucan—the opportunity to corner her.
Pendragon’s was busier tonight than usual, the bar packed with bodies, some tucked close together in conversation, others gyrating against each other on the dance floor. Pulses of flashing color—red, blue, green, yellow—drenched the crowd, interspersed by flickers of a strobe light that made everyone appear to be moving in slow motion to the beat of the house band.
She wasn’t looking for Lucan, but knowing he was close made the cat stir restlessly inside her.
“Lucan has balls, I’ll give him that,” Sorcha continued as though he had been the sole topic of conversation all night.
“He’s not that bad,” Emma chimed in. She hiccupped a moment later and slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Told you she couldn’t hold her liquor.” Briana said absently, holding her hand out. If she focused on her friends then she wouldn’t wonder if Lucan’s presence had anything to do with the concerns that were thankfully keeping her brothers from focusing entirely on her.
Sorcha dug a twenty out of her pocket and handed it over.
“I’m fine.” Emma slid off her stool, surprising all three of them by not even staggering. She smoothed her hands down her slinky black dress. “Cian thinks I’m fine too.”
Briana didn’t need to look to know her friend’s gaze had found Cian, who was no doubt standing right next to Cale. The pair’s mate bond was still so new they were rarely apart. Only one thing could pull Cian’s attention from his new mate—could pull the attention of all three of her brothers.
“I think they’ve spotted him.” Sorcha finished off her drink, her fingers flexing where her sword was supposed to be. Given how intimidating the ex-huntress was to even the most lethal immortals, Sorcha’s sword had been deemed bad for business.
“They won’t start anything in here.” Her brothers had a low tolerance for aggression in their club and every immortal in the place knew it.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Sorcha grinned proudly, knowing she’d started her own share of bar fights.
“And doubtfully the last.” Emma took a wobbly step, then dropped back onto the stool. “I think I’ll just wait here for your brother.” She tugged on Briana’s shirt to guarantee she had her attention. “Did I mention your brother has the most incredible—”
“Ooookay,” Briana interrupted, before she heard something that would scar her for the rest of her immortal life. “You’re cut off.”
Emma laughed. “I’m not talking about his cock. Though I have absolutely no complaints.”
Briana shuddered. “Moving on.”
Unfortunately, Sorcha took the suggestion and ran with it, pinning Briana with a knowing gaze. “We could always talk about you finding your mate and hiding that fact from everyone.”
Perfect.
Emma glanced at Briana and then at the floor.
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed. “What was that? Are you in the loop, Em?” She stared hard at Briana. “Does she know who your mate is?”
“I didn’t tell her.” Which was the truth. Briana didn’t know how Emma had pieced it together, but guessed it had something to do with the sorceress and Cian crossing paths with Lucan in Vegas a while back. Since then, Emma had given her plenty of openings to talk about it, but Briana still wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed, the gesture almost masking her disappointment over being kept in the dark. “One of you two better start talking or I swear to the gods…” Sorcha trailed off, frowning at the gargoyle who shouldered his way to the bar.
The faint scent of ash lingered on the immortal despite the overpowering aftershave clinging to his skin. Dragon.
His gaze locked on Sorcha, and Briana rolled her eyes. Two other idiots had already tried picking a fight with Sorcha tonight and it hadn’t ended well for either of them. Obviously the dragon had missed how the last show ended or he would have rethought challenging the former huntress.
Briana stepped a little closer to Emma. The last thing she needed right now was Emma getting between Sorcha and the dragon the way she had with the last two. The smell of scorched jeans still hadn’t entirely faded, and as lucky as she’d been, Emma’s additional shots of alcohol since then couldn’t possibly be a good thing for her temperamental magic.
“Don’t I know you?” The dragon’s tone was accusing.
Sorcha tipped her head, considering. “You’re still alive, so I doubt it.” She turned her body, letting the dragon get a good look at the symbol on her arm band that still marked her as one of Rhiannon’s huntresses.
When Sorcha’s sword wasn’t enough of a deterrent—and any other time it usually was—immortals tended to back off when they recognized Rhiannon’s brand. Most gods either slept or couldn’t be bothered with the immortal races, but Rhiannon was the exception. Not only had she fallen in love with a human and gave birth to Arthur, but she recruited the huntresses that policed the immortal population. Few willingly tangled with those chosen to ensure humanity remained ignorant of Avalon at all costs.
The dragon apparently fell into the few category.
He bared his teeth at the sight of the symbol. His skin flickered iridescent along his jaw, betraying both his anger and the jewel-like tones of his scales. “You killed my brother.”
“You do know that as far as pick-up lines go, that’s hardly fresh material, right?”
Emma sighed dramatically. “Why is it always someone’s brother?”
A Fae close by snickered, and the dragon snarled before taking a threatening step toward Sorcha, his body shadowing her much smaller frame.
Ignoring Lucan’s teasing scent that continued to pull at her, Briana nudged Emma off the stool and back a few steps. She doubted the confrontation would escalate beyond trading insults, but if it did, Sorcha would need a little room to sweep the floor with him.
Without taking her eyes off the dragon, Sorcha shook her head. No doubt Cale was one leap from stepping in to protect his mate and she didn’t want him ruining her fun.
“Well, huntress,” the dragon began.
“Ex,” Briana felt compelled to add.
The dragon scowled at her, and she let her cat rise as close to the surface as she dared. She might not be the warrior that Sorcha was, but her brothers had made sure she could hold her own.
“Not worth it.” Emma touched her shoulder, and Briana noticed her claws were already out.
She blew out a breath, but it didn’t unlock one ounce of the tension that gripped her spine i
n an iron hold.
“You,” the dragon growled at Sorcha, “need to let me buy you a drink.” He grinned, and those close enough to witness the exchange let out the breaths they’d been holding. A few looked disappointed.
“Just one?” Sorcha winked.
The dragon reached a hand out, and then Cale was there, his cat in his eyes and a feral growl that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but a warning. Her brother might bend to Sorcha’s determination to fight her own battles—most of the time—but if another male looked at her too long, his claws came out.
Sorcha looped her arms around Cale’s neck. “Easy, tiger.”
Holding up his hands, the dragon backed off. “Just expressing my gratitude.”
Cale nodded grudgingly. “Try a thank-you card next time.”
With a tip of his head, the dragon disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sorcha to roll her eyes at her mate. “Was that really necessary?”
“No. But this is.” Sinking his fingers into her hair, Cale captured her mouth in a fierce kiss that had Briana on the verge of telling the pair to get a room.
The second she felt their collective attention shift to her, the same question she’d been dodging for weeks burning in their eyes, Briana mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and spun on her heel, squeezing her way into the crunch of bodies.
Next time she let herself be coerced into leaving her work, she damn well wouldn’t come here. Just because she was the youngest—and most vulnerable, in her brothers’ minds—didn’t mean she owed her brothers any explanations.
She was a stronger tracker than any of them, knew how to wield a sword equally with both hands thanks to Cian’s training, had been the one to push them kicking and screaming into the technological age, and yet they still seemed intent on believing she was somehow less capable.
When it came to their relationships with their mates, she hadn’t demanded any explanations and they certainly hadn’t offered any. More than once she’d been worried sick about what kind of trouble they’d landed themselves in. Tristan falling for a human. Cale seducing the lethal huntress sent to slaughter him for breaking the rules. Cian pursuing the sorceress he blamed for trapping him in his stone gargoyle state for a hundred years.
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