by Eva Chase
I poked at them, grinning at the thought of the cash they’d bring in and the collector who’d now hopefully be agonizing at least as much over his loss as his captives had in their cages, and headed down the hall to grab some breakfast singing, “How wrong, how wrong was that dinged-up dong. How wrong, how—”
My voice jarred in my throat. I jerked to a halt a few steps from my kitchen, which was currently inhabited by three inexcusably stunning—and unfamiliar—men.
2
Sorsha
To be clear, I was all for shockingly handsome men as a general principle. I enjoyed resting my eyes—and sometimes other parts—on them as the occasion presented itself. Just not when the occasion was them randomly appearing in my apartment without prior invitation or me having any idea who in the wide blue yonder they were.
These three had certainly made themselves at home. The brawniest of the bunch, a hulking dude with several scars marking his chiseled face and white-blond hair that grazed his considerable shoulders, had pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He sat there with his legs sprawled out and one of my dinner knives held to the light from the window.
Next to that window was a young man who could have been a sun god, all golden curls and radiant beauty. He’d perched his tall, slim form right on the counter, one knee drawn up and the other—bare—foot dangling. His long fingers curled around my last banana, now half-eaten.
Beside him, the last of the trio was poised by the sink, the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up past his elbows and his well-toned arms submersed in the mountain of bubbles he’d stirred up under the running water. His eyebrows arched nearly all the way to the fringe of his messy chocolate-brown waves as he met my eyes.
“Have a good sleep?” he asked in a voice that was equally chocolatey: smooth, dark, and sweet.
They were all watching me now, the bubble enthusiast smirking, the sun god beaming like, well, the sun, and Mr. Brawn forming an expression as if he were trying very hard not to frown but his face wasn’t quite sure how to do anything else.
My body had tensed with that good old fight-or-flight instinct, faced with uncertain and potentially dangerous circumstances. “What the hell are you—” I started. Then my gaze caught on a couple of details that threw my understanding of the situation for a loop.
Paler shapes, more caramel than chocolate, poked from amid the bubble guy’s wavy hair. They were the curves of two small, pointed… horns, just above his ears. And the sunlight was glinting not just off my dinner knife in the hulk’s hand but also off his knuckles, which had crystalline edges even harder than his face and a blueish white tint like ice.
You could still have called them men, yeah, but a substantial portion of the population would have also called them monsters. I had three of the higher shadowkind camped out in my kitchen.
Which still begged a whole lot of questions, but also meant a different level of caution. I backed up a step. “Just a second. Stay right there.”
I hightailed it back to my bedroom and snatched up the undershirt I’d been wearing beneath my cat burglar outfit last night. The badge of silver and iron I wore over my heart was still pinned to it. I plucked it off and fixed it to my current T-shirt in the same spot.
The metals’ effects wouldn’t make me impervious to shadowkind powers, but the badge did deflect most attempts to manipulate human minds and emotions. While I believed in letting the shadowkind live freely, that didn’t mean I trusted them to keep their voodoo to themselves. Some of them had earned the label “monster.” And even the sweetest of shadow creatures often didn’t understand kindness and consideration the way we mortals did.
My hasty preparations woke up Pickle where he’d been baking in the sun on my bedroom windowsill. The kitten-sized, dragon-shaped creature, whose scales were as green and bumpy as his namesake, blinked at me, stretched his wings, and scrambled up into a jumping position.
I hesitated and then leaned toward him. “All right. But you might not like what’s out there.” He wouldn’t be much help if it came to a fight, but his response to their presence might tell me things my mortal senses didn’t register.
Pickle leapt into the air with a clumsy flap of his wings and landed on my shoulder. He hooked his claws—gently, after a couple of years of trial and error—into the fabric of my shirt and nudged my jaw with his flared nose. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether he saw me more as a helpful companion or a steed.
He settled in happily with his cool cheek tucked against the crook of my neck until I’d reached the threshold of the kitchen. The three gorgeous men had stayed exactly where they’d been when I first saw them. At least they were capable of following direct instructions.
Pickle flinched and sprang away from me—and away from his much larger shadowkind brethren—with a squeak that released a puff of sparks. He landed on the shoulder of the mannequin that stood just inside the living room.
I’d emancipated that object from the long-abandoned store my apartment sat on top of, a place that used to offer fabric and clothing alterations. The headless, armless figure looked almost as unsettling in my apartment as it had amid the dust and darkness downstairs, but I’d decked it out in one of my shirts, unwashed to keep my scent, so that Pickle had somewhere to perch other than on me, which was where he’d have wanted to be every waking moment otherwise.
Apparently he preferred substitute-me to the real deal if it meant getting farther away from the beings in the kitchen. Once on the mannequin, he hunched his back, his beady black eyes fixed on them and another, fiercer squeak escaping him.
Okay, so he thought they were pretty scary dudes. Of course, that might have been more to do with the fact that they were about a hundred times bigger than he was than any horrifying powers he’d picked up on.
The men still hadn’t moved, but Mr. Brawn’s expression had shifted into total frown territory as he considered my pet dragon. The bubble enthusiast with the chocolate hair and voice appeared to focus on my protective badge for a moment before he caught my gaze again with another teasing arch of his brows.
I’d worn it on the outside of my clothes on purpose, so they’d know I knew what I was dealing with—and how to defend myself if I needed to.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “All right. What are you doing here?” They seemed tame enough so far, Mr. Brawn’s scars aside, but with the higher shadowkind, you really couldn’t go by appearances. They were capable of hiding their more monstrous forms beneath a nearly fully human veneer, only one tell-tale characteristic like those horns or those knuckles showing through. I could be dealing with any manner of demon, shapeshifter, fae, vamp, or the many rarer but equally caution-worthy types.
“You let us out,” the slim sun god said in a bright, awed voice. “It was fantastic.” He took another bite of the banana, and I realized he hadn’t bothered to peel it. He was downing it skin and all.
His tongue flicked across his lips—was it forked?—and his smile turned swoony. “This is fantastic too. What did you say it’s called?”
He glanced at the guy at the sink, who answered with obvious amusement. “A banana. While we’re working on B-words, what do you think of these?” He lifted his hand and blew a stream of the dish-soap bubbles into the air. As they floated along with more airlift than I could have managed, the godly guy’s eyes followed them. He reached out to touch one bubble’s glossy surface and guffawed when it popped.
Mr. Brawn had set aside the dinner knife and gotten to his feet without any sign he’d noticed the others’ chatter. He looked even bigger standing up—at least a foot taller than me, and I was no shrimp at five-foot-six. He bobbed his head, his expression as somber as before. His voice came out deep and gravelly.
“My name is Thorn, and my companions are Snap”—he indicated the sun god—“and Ruse”—the bubble enthusiast. “After the efforts you took and the repercussions you risked to ensure our freedom, we owe you a great debt. We’ll repay it to the best of our ability, m’l
ady.”
Had he really just referred to me as “m’lady” like some courtly knight? I might have questioned the title, but I was too distracted by the larger implications of what he’d said. Ensure their freedom—let them out—oh.
The pieces clicked together. The three huge cages in the collection room. The glimpse of pale hair I’d gotten—that could have been this Thorn guy’s. The brilliant green eyes… Snap’s were a more subdued mossy green, but in his more monstrous form they might very well take on that neon shine. Shadowkind tended toward extremes in their natural state.
I had freed these three. And then apparently they’d followed me home like a pack of lost puppies. Extremely hot lost puppies, but still. Pickle was enough trouble.
My arms relaxed a little, but I didn’t move from my spot on the threshold. “You shouldn’t have come after me. I wasn’t looking for repayment. I let you and the lesser beings there out because you didn’t deserve to be caged in the first place. You can go on back to the shadow realm now.”
Ruse blew another waft of bubbles into the air. “No can do. You see, we lost our boss.”
Snap’s cheerful expression dimmed at that comment. He downed the last of the banana like it was a shot of tequila.
“Your boss?” I repeated, knitting my brow.
As far as I’d gathered, the shadow realm didn’t operate with much social organization, let alone jobs and employers. There were higher shadowkind who’d come over to the mortal realm permanently and lived alongside humans with most of the trappings of mortal life, but this trio didn’t fit that mold. From Snap’s awe at the basic contents of my kitchen, I’d guess he’d spent very little time outside his own realm at all. Thorn’s formal way of speaking and outfit of tunic and trousers suggested any significant time he’d spent here had been a few eras ago. Ruse might have fit in all right, though his fitted shirt and slacks were more clubwear than work uniform, but he’d said our.
“We were brought together for a specific cause by another of our kind who suspected treachery was being carried out by certain mortals,” Thorn said. “The fate that befell him suggests he was right. On our third cross-over, he was ambushed by attackers well-prepared to combat our abilities. We were able to avoid the fray, but before we could track down him and them afterward, we were trapped by another party.” His face darkened, his head dipping.
“I did tell you I had a bad feeling about that building,” Ruse put in.
Thorn glowered over his shoulder at the other guy before turning back to me. “Techniques have changed since I last engaged much with mortals. They’ve become more… potent.” He sat back down as if over-burdened by that admission.
Snap gave a little shudder as if trying to shake off the tension of the moment and hopped off the counter. He reached into my fruit bowl on the table, the glow of curiosity coming back as he examined his finding. “What’s this one called?”
“That’s a peach,” Ruse said dryly. “They’re nice too.”
Snap took a bite and hummed delightedly. I did my best not to ogle the pale curve of his neck and that heavenly face as he held the fruit up to let the juice drip into his mouth. I might not have invited these guests, but I could be polite enough not to openly leer.
“Omen brought us together,” Thorn went on from his chair. He aimed his mournful glower at the dinner knife as if its dull blade offended him. “We can’t return without him. And if he’s right about the sort of people who captured him, many more of our kind are under grave threat.”
An uneasy prickle ran down my spine. Collectors and the hunters who supplied them didn’t normally deal in higher shadowkind. Too risky and too much effort required. If there was some kind of organized campaign underway to seize beings like these—if it was happening enough that some shadowkind were starting to realize… It didn’t bode well that none of the people I worked with had noticed.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I can see why you’d feel that way. The last thing I’d want to do is get in the way of that mission. By all means, go off and search for him.” And I’d check with my contacts to see if they had any idea about the bigger picture here.
“We will of course continue our search,” Thorn said. “But we can see to it that you remain protected and aided in any way you require in the meantime.”
Three unexpected, monstrous house guests—not what I’d signed up for. “That’s really not necessary,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, but we owe you,” Ruse said in that smooth voice of his. I thought there might be a teasing note in it. “If it’s simpler for you, we could sink into the shadows to stay out of your hair.”
“Her hair,” Snap murmured. He looked from the partly-devoured peach to me and sidled close enough to lift a ruddy lock that had fallen across my shoulder. His head cocked as he rubbed it between his lithe fingers.
My pulse stuttered despite myself. Thorn might be ruggedly handsome and Ruse devilishly stunning, but up close, Snap’s divine face was literally breathtaking.
“It’s almost the same color,” he said, sounding pleased with his observation. He held the strands up to the peach’s red skin. “And just as soft.”
I managed to catch my breath, but the only sound that came out of me was, “Er.” I should probably step away, but I couldn’t quite convey that message to my legs.
Ruse chuckled. “I’ll bet she tastes just as sweet too.”
There was no mistaking the suggestiveness of that comment, but Snap’s head jerked toward him with a flicker of horror. “You can’t eat her!”
Thorn stirred at the table as if tuning in to his companions’ asides for the first time. “No one should even be thinking about eating anyone around here,” he commanded.
Ruse rolled his hooded eyes. “I’ll have you know that in my entire existence, I’ve never eaten a person—not like that, anyway.” He winked at me. “I apologize for my associates’ inability to follow a metaphor.”
I held up my hands, finally convincing my feet to back away from Snap. “Enough. Let me think.”
No way in hell did I want these guys lurking around in the shadows, keeping an eye on me for my “protection” without me having any idea where exactly they were. I valued my privacy, thank you very much. At least while they were visible, I’d know when I was actually on my own.
As the entire conversation had demonstrated, shadowkind didn’t have the same concepts humans did of social niceties… or basic legalities, for that matter. The fact that they had no right to occupy my apartment and that I might not want them hanging around “repaying” me meant zip. If they’d decided to temporarily adopt me, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do to convince them otherwise—not without provoking hostilities I wasn’t prepared to contend with, anyway.
Because I’m nothing if not stubborn, I had to make one last attempt. “Can you really not believe that I’d rather you put all your energy into finding your ‘boss’ instead of looking out for me?”
Thorn blinked at me as if I’d said something completely preposterous. “It’s not about believing. It’s about what’s right.”
He said it with such solemn commitment that I barely held back a laugh. What was right, according to him: crashing the home of a woman they barely knew and insisting on watching over her despite her protests. Welcome to shadow logic.
Ruse and Snap looked equally disinclined to budge. I inhaled sharply and squared my shoulders. In that case, I’d just have to do what I could to get them moving on with their other responsibilities.
“Fine,” I said. “There are some people I can meet up with tonight who might have information that’ll help you track down this Omen guy. In the meantime, I’d prefer if you did your protecting from the kitchen.”
I slipped into the room just long enough to grab a muffin out of the breadbox for my breakfast, waved Pickle onto my shoulder, and stalked back to my bedroom to figure out how to get myself unadopted ASAP
.
3
Ruse
“Well, that went just spectacularly,” I said, leaning back against our savior’s kitchen counter.
“Really?” Snap looked toward me with that dopily hopeful expression of his.
Thorn shifted forward in his chair as if debating whether to spring into action right now. “I thought so.”
Unfortunately, my current associates understood sarcasm about as well as they comprehended metaphors. I wiped the lingering bubbles off my hands. The lemony scent made my nose itch, but at least the stuff had entertained Snap for a little while. Not that he was all that difficult to impress.
“I was joking,” I said. “She all but told us to take a hike. Repeatedly.” Her noxious silver-and-iron brooch might have deflected most of my ability to read her emotions the way I generally could with mortals, but from the moment she’d retreated to put the thing on, her wariness about our presence should have been perfectly obvious to anyone with functioning eyes.
Anyone other than these two. Why had I let Omen rope me into this posse again? I hadn’t taken into consideration the possibility of being snared and shut away in a cage for darkness only knew how long.
Longer than was good for my health, the more insistent itch in my chest suggested. The ravenous sensation I’d been fighting off for days was producing claws.
“She told us to stay,” Thorn said, which was the most generous possible interpretation of the young woman’s instruction for us to keep to the kitchen. “She even offered to help look for Omen, not that she should feel obliged.”
I sighed. “I’d imagine she’s counting on us leaving as soon as we’ve found him, and she’d like to hurry up the process.”
Snap’s eyes grew even rounder than usual. “We can’t leave. What if the mortals that attacked us come after her because she freed us?”
“I get the feeling she’d prefer to take her chances with them more than us,” I replied, but I couldn’t help smiling as I said it. Our rescuer had plenty of spirit in her. I’d pass up a seduction or two for the chance to watch her face off against those asshole hunters.
