There. Ready to face the world.
Aya walked into the small living room adjoining her bedroom and grabbed her keys and small purse off the sideboard to her left near the main door. She resisted the temptation to check her reflection again in the oval mirror above the sideboard, heading straight to the door instead. She made fast work of the locks, opened it and stepped out into the brightly-lit cream corridor. The locks clicked back into place as she closed the door and she pocketed her keys and hurried along the corridor towards the stairs that would take her down to the main entrance hall several floor below. Her heels clicked on the steps, punctuating the silence, and the pace of them picked up as she crossed the entrance hall.
The night air was even cooler now as she pushed the glass double doors open and she breathed deep of it. The scents hit her hard, a myriad of smells that had her instincts sharpening as they awakened a desire to identify each one and map her neighbourhood. The nearby restaurants provided the strongest range of smells, tempting her into taking a detour. She resisted the call of food and hailed a taxi instead. The black cab slowed and pulled over, and she made her way between two parked cars to reach it.
The journey to the club passed in silence, her gaze fixed on the outside world as it whizzed by in a blur of coloured lights and black shadows, her animal side shifting restlessly beneath her skin. She wanted to be out in the darkness, prowling the parks in her snow leopard form and marking everything with her scent so all shifters in the area would know this was her patch. How long had it been since she had shifted?
Too long.
Years at best.
She put it off for as long as she could, but the need to shift steadily built inside her, growing stronger with each day that passed, until it grew impossible to ignore, even when she wanted to avoid the reminder of what she was.
The male had brought the need from a growl to a deafening roar in her blood.
Now, she itched with a hunger to let her snow leopard side out, her fingers twisting the silver material of her halter-top into her palms as she fought that urge. Maybe when she got back tomorrow morning, she would look into booking a short break up north. Over the years she had been away from the mountains of her homeland, the rugged valleys of Scotland had become her favourite place to get lost in the wilderness and spend days roaming in her animal form.
The cab ground to a halt, jerking her away from a fantasy about drifting through the heather with only nature for company and basking on the rocks. The bright neon sign of Switch blazed off to her right, the bouncer outside it nodding as he noticed her. He stepped away from the open doors of the back-street nightclub and she smiled as he pulled the cab door open for her.
Aya slipped the driver his money, plus a generous tip, and stepped out of the car.
“Rocky,” she said as the big shaven-headed bouncer grinned down at her before giving the car door a gentle push.
It slammed shut with enough force to rock the cab.
Bear shifters didn’t know their own strength, and Rocky was no exception. Aya had taken to calling him Rocky a few years ago when she had started frequenting the club and they had spent a quiet night talking. He came from a small pride of bear shifters in Canada, near the mountains she had named him for. His circumstances were similar to hers, so she understood why he had wanted to keep his name to himself, using the boring alias of Tom instead.
He had taken to the name she had given him and now everyone called him Rocky.
Aya glanced towards the dark entrance of the club, her heart beating a little quicker and her palms sweating as she struggled to keep her breathing even and convince herself to go inside.
Rocky clapped a meaty hand down on her bare shoulder. “He ain’t here.”
Relief swept through her, and she tried to hide it from Rocky, but realised she had failed when his grin stretched wider, tugging at a vicious scar that ran across his lips on the right side and down to his square jaw. He was as rugged as the mountains he hailed from too, but handsome nonetheless, especially when he wasn’t playing his role of bouncer, scowling at customers and keeping watch over the club he called home.
His rich brown eyes sparkled with mischief.
Aya held her hand up to silence him before he could talk about the male shifter she wanted to avoid.
“Here’s hoping he buggers off to Underworld,” she muttered and amusement joined the mischief in Rocky’s eyes.
They had bonded over a dislike of that nightclub too, and it wasn’t only because it was a competitor for Switch, the club she favoured and he worked for. It was because that club employed two males from a species both of them wanted to keep their distance from—a bear and a snow leopard shifter.
Distant sirens made her lift her head and peer along the dark street in their direction. It wasn’t the safest neighbourhood in London, but that didn’t bother her. Life had taught her how to handle herself, how to fight and survive, and she wasn’t afraid to deal with anyone who got too familiar with her when she didn’t want their attention.
She wasn’t afraid to kill someone.
The male snow leopard included.
He was stronger than her, but that wouldn’t stop her from making him familiar with her claws if he tried anything.
Rocky trudged across the narrow strip of pavement to the door of the club and resumed his position beside it, pressing his back against the red brick wall and folding his arms across his broad chest. His muscles bulged beneath his tight black t-shirt and all humour fled from his face, the hardened expression he wore turning him into a daunting male with a dangerous edge.
Anyone roaming the street looking for a fight would think twice before bothering him or trying to gain entrance to the club.
Aya hoped that went for the male snow leopard too.
She flicked a glance at Rocky, toyed with the idea of asking him to stop the male from entering the club if he did show up, and then walked into the dark entrance without saying a word. This was her turf and she wasn’t going to let anyone see her scared when she was on it.
If the male showed up, she would deal with him.
She wanted him to walk right through the doors at her back.
She wanted him to dare to set foot in her territory again.
Because she wasn’t the sort of female who would let a male walk all over her.
Not anymore.
CHAPTER 3
Aya jerked her chin up, brushed her short black hair back from her face, and strolled into the club with just enough sway in her hips to have a few of the hungrier males in the expansive room looking her way. Colourful lights flashed in time with the pounding tempo of the rock music, a visible beat that spoke to her animal side and had her prowling through the half-filled club, heading towards the bar at the far end. The hazy glass panel at the front of it changed colours, fading through green, yellow, red and blue. Purple lights above the bar washed over the white metal top and the people lining it, telling her that Amanda was in charge tonight. The colour changed depending on who was the boss behind the bar. Her luck was in. Amanda made the best cocktails. Things were already looking up.
She skirted the edge of the dance floor, her eyes raking over every male on it, assessing them in turn, seeking out her first partner. Some of them glanced her way, taking their eyes off their females and giving her their attention instead. She smiled at them all, a range of shifters and fae, and some mortals mixed in. Any one of them would do.
She turned back towards the bar and a group of mortal males broke apart to allow her passage, creating a clear run between her and the bar.
A male there caught her eye.
A vampire.
It wasn’t often she saw their kind around, but he was unmistakable as he lounged casually on a stool, his right arm propped up on the bar behind him. His deep crimson gaze locked on her, sending a thrill coursing through her blood, and she added a little extra sway to her hips and slowed her pace, capturing and holding his focus on her.
He was perf
ect.
It was little wonder many of the single females in the club were watching him closely.
With neatly styled dark hair, shorn close around the sides but left wild on top, and wicked full lips set in a classically handsome face, with a strong jaw, straight nose and sculpted cheekbones, he was the image of perfection.
The embodiment of masculinity.
The black shirt he wore was slightly open at the collar, revealing defined muscles that hinted at a body to match the perfection of his face.
His sensual lips tilted in a ghost of a smile.
He thought he had found a victim, a walking blood bag who would feed him, and she wasn’t about to tell him how wrong he was about that. Biting was off the agenda. She never allowed fangs near her flesh. The way his gaze dipped, roaming down the line of her throat, and his lips curved further told her he had noticed that, and the way his eyes brightened, burning faintly in the low light, warned he liked it.
She was playing with fire, but she didn’t care. Not tonight.
Tonight was about forgetting, and he was the perfect male to erase the past from her mind.
Aya halted at the bar and flagged the only female member of staff. Amanda. The brunette smiled, nodded and went to work on her drink, mixing her the same potent cocktail she always requested.
The vampire leaned closer, inhaled slowly and growled low in his throat. A shiver bolted through Aya, a flash fire following in its wake, and she slowly slid her gaze towards him. His eyes met and locked with hers, and her breathing came quicker. Vampires were alluring, but this male was something else.
Something more.
Crimson eyes held hers and the sensation of danger she had felt when approaching him increased, but rather than triggering a need to escape his presence, it drew her to him instead. Tonight, she was in the mood for danger and seduction, and this male would give that to her.
“It’s on me,” the male said as the bartender dropped her drink off.
Amanda nodded and moved away to the till.
The vampire pressed two fingers against the base of the martini glass and pushed it across the white bar top to Aya, his charming smile holding.
“You look like you need this,” he murmured and her sensitive hearing picked up his words over the loud thumping music.
Aya held his gaze as she took the drink, swallowed it down in one go and set the glass back down on the bar.
“I need more than this,” she whispered and inched closer to him, so her hip brushed his thigh.
His gaze lowered to where they touched, narrowed and then darted back up to hers. He growled, flashing short fangs, grabbed her right wrist and spun her towards him. Hunger filled his eyes, need that she felt echoing inside her. She had been alone too long too. She needed to lose herself in someone, had to purge the bad memories and fill her head with something to keep them at bay.
That something was him.
The male moved in a blur and she gasped when she was suddenly on the busy dance floor, his hands on her hips and his body swaying against hers in an intoxicating rhythm. It took her a moment to catch up, but the second she did, she threw her arms around his neck and ground against him, rubbing up his thigh as he pressed it between her legs.
Gods, she needed this.
Her heart pounded, the frantic beat drowning out the music as she lost herself in the sway of his body against hers and the rich depths of his eyes. Her instincts whispered again, warning she was playing with fire, and this time she might get burned.
Screw it.
She had already been burned.
No one could burn her worse than he had.
Not even a vampire.
She threw herself into dancing with him, working up a sweat and burning off some energy as they writhed against each other to the beat of the music. She lost track of time as the songs faded from one to another and then another. He turned with her and she frowned briefly as a scar around his neck caught the sudden flash of white light that cascaded over him. It was thin, would be unnoticeable at a distance, but this close to him she could see it and she couldn’t help wondering how he had come to have it.
And how he had survived the wound.
The silvery line stretched from below his left ear, around the front of his throat, over his Adam’s apple where it was thicker and more pronounced, to below his right ear.
It looked as if someone had attempted to cut his head clean off and should have succeeded, but somehow he had escaped with his life.
She wanted to know how, but the way he was staring down at her when she finally drew her gaze away from the scar warned her to hold her tongue.
A couple of males bumped against them on the busy dance floor and the vampire turned crimson eyes on them and curled his lip, flashing a hint of fang that had them backing into the crowd.
He drew her closer, his scent surrounding her and stealing her focus away from the world, narrowing it down to him. She let it overwhelm her, let her guard down and gave herself over to the moment.
“What’s your name?” she hollered over the music.
The man smiled, charming to the last, his eyes glittering dangerously with it. “Night.”
“Aya,” she said without missing a beat, sensing that he was waiting for her to comment on his name. If it was his real one, his parents had a bad sense of humour, but she couldn’t deny that it suited him.
He was as seductive, beautiful and dangerous as the night.
A shiver prickled down her spine, setting her on edge and shattering the hold the vampire had over her.
Her silver-gold gaze drifted beyond him, towards the entrance, and her breath lodged in her throat.
The snow leopard male.
Aya fixed her eyes back on Night, trying to give him all of her attention again as they moved with each other, their bodies locked tight together. Her focus slipped, her eyes wanting to roam back to the other male, drawn to him even when she didn’t want them to be.
She watched him in the corner of her vision as she looked up at the vampire.
The silver-haired male limped as he walked, favouring his right leg, but it didn’t detract from the lethal edge to his gait as he prowled into the club. He was dangerous. Every instinct she possessed fired that warning across her mind, making it impossible to ignore.
He was more dangerous than the vampire grinding against her, pulling her closer to him, dipping his head to course his lips over her exposed shoulder.
The snow leopard’s silver eyes narrowed and she shut hers, blocking him out as she twined her fingers in Night’s dark hair.
Gods.
Her breath left her in a rush as she felt the snow leopard’s eyes fix on her, the intensity of his gaze burning through her, drawing her into opening hers to look at him again. She resisted, tried to focus on the male dancing with her, using all of her will to pretend she couldn’t feel the snow leopard’s gaze drifting down her body as he passed. It lingered on her hips, on the point where the vampire clutched her, his fingers possessively digging into her black jeans as he lifted his head from her shoulder and growled.
A threat if ever she had heard one.
She held her breath, part of her expecting the snow leopard to respond.
He moved on, silent and stealthy, the epitome of a predator. He wouldn’t rise to the threat of a lesser male. He would bide his time, study his opponent, and only make his move once he had discovered a weakness he could exploit and only if he decided he wanted her.
It had been so long since she had been around her own kind that she had forgotten how mature males behaved.
The air left her lungs in a whoosh again, her heart thundering against her breast as the vampire spun her in his arms and pulled her back against his front, grinding against her bottom and leaving her face-to-face with the snow leopard male.
Double gods.
It hit her hard as she stared across the open expanse of room between her and him where he casually took a seat at the bar directly in front of h
er.
She had chosen the vampire because he was the opposite of this male.
A snow leopard with an unruly shock of silver hair and pure silver eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face that sported numerous pale scars that immediately had her wondering what sort of life he had led.
What sort of Hell had he survived?
It couldn’t be any worse than what she had been through.
He stared straight at her, stealing all of her focus away from the vampire, and this time she couldn’t convince herself to look away. The coldness in his eyes entranced her. A snowy abyss that reminded her of her pride’s village high in the mountains, far away from the mortal world. Stark. Dangerous. Liable to kill you if you set a foot wrong.
Whatever had happened to this male, it had turned him feral, had made him into a killer rather than a male from a species known for their calmness and desire to avoid conflict.
He looked as if he courted danger, sought out conflict, and enjoyed bathing his hands in blood.
His black t-shirt stretched over a firm body, his arms sporting more scars than she could count, and tight black jeans hugged his long lean legs. The fingers of his right hand flexed constantly, a restless movement she had seen many males do when they were on edge. Did he want to fight?
He was injured, but that didn’t make him weak. He looked like the sort of male that would only be more dangerous when wounded.
His eyes remained icy as he shifted in his seat and she would have missed the twist of his lips that betrayed him if she hadn’t been studying him so closely.
More than his leg was injured.
The way he held his left arm in his lap told her that it was wounded too. Her eyes dropped to his feet and narrowed as she spotted the black thick material encasing his left foot, at odds with the leather army boot he wore on his right. A cast. Had he broken his leg?
Marked by an Assassin Page 3
