Haunted Blade (Colbana Files Book 6)

by J. C. Daniels

  Finally, I took the paper and unfolded it, watching him from the corner of my eye all the while.

  Something pressed against the outer layers of my shields, a gentle nudge at first and then it grew more insistent. Squaring my shoulders against it, I set my jaw and studied the picture.

  “In my trade, we call this a dagger,” I said, taking care to fold the paper back into fours before holding it back out. “It looks old. Probably Roman.”

  “Yes.” Malcolm made no attempt to take the picture of the blade back. “I’m aware. It’s seen some years pass, but it’s not ancient. It was crafted twelve hundred, thirteen hundred years ago—in Rome.”

  “Damn. I was thinking it was at least fourteen hundred years old. I guess I don’t get a gold star.” I wiggled the paper. “Here you go.”

  “I’d like you to retrieve it. It’s here. In East Orlando.”

  “I’m afraid I’m booked up for the foreseeable future. The clan takes up a lot of my time.” He still hadn’t made any attempt to take the paper, so I took a few steps to the left, crouched down and put it on the ground. There was a chunk of asphalt on the ground. I used it as a temporary paperweight.

  “I suppose it was too much to hope you could stay your own woman shackled to the likes of the cat alpha.”

  As I rose, I met his gaze. “Try harder,” I suggested.

  “To do what?” He looked genuinely puzzled.

  “If you think insults are going to get me to do what you want, you need to sink a lot lower than that one.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I didn’t bothered to hide my smile. “I wasn’t even old enough to go to school the first time I was told I’d never be a real woman, so if you think that’s going to do it, you’re in for a disappointment.”

  “It does appear that way.” He deliberately let his eyes skim over me in a way so tauntingly and sleazily male, I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I’m sorry, Malcolm. Somehow, the lecher doesn’t suit you.”

  Annoyance flickered in the back of his eyes. Then he shifted his attention to Doyle. “Are you in the mood to take on a case solo, cub? It shouldn’t be anything too taxing for one of your skills.”

  What in the hell are you up to? But I cut the thought short. Curiosity could kill the Kit. “Sorry,” I said with a brilliant smile, cutting in front of Doyle. I wasn’t sure I trusted his common sense—or the temper I sensed simmering inside him.

  Especially as Malcolm was clearly trying to goad one or both of us into something.

  Nothing good was coming out of something like this.

  As Malcolm’s eerie eyes slid my way, I kept that smile locked firmly in place. “Doyle is stuck with me for the next three months went it comes to jobs. Part of the deal we struck with both the Assembly and his Alpha.”

  “Kit…” Malcolm heaved out a sigh and shook his head. “It’s like you’re trying to be difficult. But…very well. This isn’t finished, though. We’ll meet again.”

  ⸸

  “I can handle saying no on my own.”

  Doyle stared stubbornly out the front windshield, hands gripping, then releasing, gripping then releasing the steering wheel.

  It made me wonder if shifters special-ordered their cars. One good yank or squeeze could destroy the steering mechanism on a normal vehicle.

  “I’m well aware of your abilities to say no. Just like I’m well aware of your abilities to be a dominant, overbearing, arrogant predator. I fall into that neutral category, Doyle. Nobody is going to look at me and wonder if I’m going to eat their spine if I get pissed off.”

  His mouth twisted in a snarl and he glared at the road in front of him.

  He wouldn’t glare at me. He was going out of his way to avoid even looking at me sideways when he was pissed off, and had been doing so for a few weeks. The last time he’d glared at me had resulted in him getting the short end of Damon’s temper. Of course, that had resulted in Damon getting the short end of my temper…and me breaking several fingers in my hand when I punched the hard-ass in his ironlike jaw, but that was a different matter entirely.

  Doyle wasn’t just a shifter—he was family to me.

  Damon, however, saw it differently.

  We’d been taking a break from sparring. He’d been getting a little too into it. I’d caught the glow of tiger gold in his eyes, heard a growl in his throat and for a brief moment, I’d felt fear. When he lunged at me, instinct took over.

  My blade went into his gut.

  That caught his attention.

  I called for a break and with a mix of embarrassment and irritation, Doyle had told me that next time, I could try just saying something if he was getting too intense.

  “The problem is that I shouldn’t have to say anything, Doyle. You’ve got to start learning to understand your strength and your speed—all over again. You’ve got abilities others don’t. That’s why we’re training. Understanding those strengths is another gift. Get it through your skull, kid,” I’d told him, not looking at him.

  I’d been unsettled, maybe a little too uncomfortable, and I hadn’t looked at him.

  That was when Damon had walked in and he’d seen something in Doyle’s face that he hadn’t liked.

  I had missed it because I’d been busy draining my water bottle, trying to get settled.

  Doyle ended up on the far side of the room, first smacking into the wall, then sliding to the floor. He left a sizeable dent in the drywall, too.

  Since then, he’d taken great care not to look at me when he was feeling…out of sorts.

  He seemed to feel that way a lot lately.

  I’d asked him about it.

  He’d told me it wasn’t anything to worry about it and he was sorry, again, for attitude.

  I’d asked Damon about it.

  Damon told me the same thing, and that I was free to stab Doyle with something sharp should he ever get excessively aggressive in training again. Also, should it continue, he’d have to find Doyle a new sparring partner, but he believed this episode would pass.

  I’d asked Chang about it.

  There I’d finally gotten answers—and an education. Apparently, shapeshifter hormones don’t really kick in on the young until they grow through the spike. Then they come out in spades. Their mating instincts go on overload and if they don’t give in, both the males and females get overly aggressive.

  Apparently, Doyle hadn’t found his special girl.

  In other words, he needed to get laid—and bad—or he’d continue to be an aggressive asshole.

  I wasn’t as open with sex as some NHs were, but I’d outright told the kid to deal with his issues so he could get his focus back on.

  He’d turned bright red.

  Apparently he was still coming to grips with those…issues himself.

  “I wasn’t planning on taking a bite out of Malcolm’s spine,” Doyle said finally. “He’d taste bad.”

  “He’d also kill you, and me, in a blink.”

  Doyle started to laugh. Then he stopped and shot a look at me. The laugh faded away. “You’re serious.”

  “I think he’s fae. Or something else just as old. He’s not…normal. I can tell you that.” Rubbing my hands up, then down my arms, I shifted my attention to the window. “He might even be one of the younger ancients. Fae makes the most sense, though.”

  Doyle’s hands stopped their rhythmic play on the steering wheel. A deep breath escaped him and he seemed to slump deeper into the seat.

  “Chang had to mess with the fae. Back in his homeland,” he said, voice rusty. “Ages ago. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “They’re tricky. Most of them are mean as a snake. They can trip you up quicker than anything else.”

  The unspoken questions lingered in the air and I sighed, looking over to catch Doyle just as he shot me a glance. “Whatever it is, just say it and get it over with,” I told him wryly. “You know I hate this sidestepping around the issue.”

  “You didn’t let yourself ask him any questio
ns.”

  “It’s best not to.” Shifting in the seat, I looked in the side mirror, then flipped down the rearview. I didn’t see any sign that anybody was following us, and I didn’t feel like anybody was. But I wasn’t going to rest easy until I was back at the Lair. “Think about it. What’s one of the first questions somebody might ask a person who is looking to hire somebody like me? If you came into my office? I’d look at you and say something like…How can I help you?”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “For most people. But the fae, even most of the ancients aren’t people. And they predate the oldest NHs—including Chang, and he’s the oldest shifter I’ve ever met.”

  “So you’ve worked with fae before.”

  “No. Well, other than Puck.” Scowling, I tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel as I thought about that shifty, shitty, scary bastard. “If I’d known he was fae, I would have run screaming in the other direction.” Suppressing a shiver, I pushed the thoughts of the few fae I’d met in my life to the back of my mind, hoped they’d stay. “But beyond him…I’ve never worked with any of them. Never want to do it again, either. I’ve…met a few, though. And they are creepier than hell, too. Malcolm was just the tip of the iceberg.”

  Trying to lighten the mood, I thumped my fist on his upper arm. “You had a few dealings with Puck. You think I want to mess with that kind of crazy?”

  Doyle’s lips twitched as he slowed to merge with the traffic flow, heading south, back toward the Lair. “They can’t all be Puck-kind of crazy.”

  “You’re right. Some are worse.”

  Then there are the truly bad ones…the ancients.

  Chapter Two

  I don’t know if it was because I had shapeshifter muscle in training at my back, or if it was because other jobs had kept me off the roster, but the shit coming at me from the Assembly.

  We didn’t get more than a day off to recover from the metal-eater before more of it came flying at us.

  The next job was three days of playing gopher between a vampire house down in the Florida Keys and a witch who lived in New Orleans as they worked out a personal dispute. I had to visit each of them—twice—carrying letters as they didn’t trust the US Postal Service and many of the older NHs didn’t trust technology any more than they trusted each other.

  Doyle and I’d had very little time to sleep, even less to eat.

  Less than nine hours after we’d signed off on that one, we were assigned bodyguard duty for a somewhat famous NH who was traveling through the states doing a tour promoting her new book, Peace For Us All—I don’t know why she needed a bodyguard. She was a wolf shifter but she had about as much oomph to her as a three week old puppy and she spent more time on her phone and giggling and gaping at Doyle as she did trying to talk her fans about Peace For Us All.

  Fortunately she was only in town for twelve hours and halfway through dinner, a car arrived to spirit her off to her next engagement in Tampa. She’d cooed at Doyle and clung to his arm, telling him all about one of her upcoming stops—this one was in New York…she just knew she could get him assigned as her personal bodyguard if he was interested.

  Doyle had shrugged her away and politely said, “No, thanks.”

  She definitely wasn’t going to be his special girl for the next few days…weeks…however long it took for him to get over the hormonal rush hitting him.

  It had been fifteen solid hours since we’d turned her over to her next babysitter and I’d spent ten of them horizontal and sleeping. I’d slept quite happily, too.

  Right up until another call came in, announcing that my services—and the shifter’s—had been requested to help mediate a dispute between two small shifter factions in a region an hour south of Wolf Haven.

  That took up two more days and I was ready to scream—up until I realized I’d fulfilled the hourly quota I owed the Assembly each month and I could easily refuse the next time they called.

  Which I did.

  I didn’t have to mess with any sanctioned job for the next month if I didn’t want to. Doyle could always work with me on my jobs and get the training he needed there.

  It was the same basic work—I just got paid a little better. Sometimes. Usually.

  Also…I could sleep in.

  ⸸

  “Kit.”

  The sound of his voice, warm and deep, barely penetrated the cocoon of sleep.

  I recognized him though.

  I’d recognize Damon anywhere.

  I moved closer and sighed as I found him, pressing my face against him.

  “Come on, baby girl. Wake up.”

  He rubbed my back.

  He kept talking, his hand smoothing down my spine in long, thorough strokes.

  “You know, you usually aren’t this hard to wake up.”

  Finally, it penetrated that he was going to keep talking and I couldn’t slip back into sleep if he did that. Still, I didn’t open my eyes right away. I took in what clues I could. The solid weight of his body was close to mine and I could feel his thigh under my cheek. Denim, too.

  So he was awake and dressed.

  The mattress was under us.

  That probably meant I was still in bed.

  Damon tended to let me sleep as long as I wanted, so if he was waking me up, something was wrong.

  “You’re waking up,” he said. “Your heartbeat’s changed. Come on. Look at me.”

  “No.” I muffled my yawn against his thigh. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  Cracking my eye open to a mere slit, I rolled my head and peered up at him. “Nothing. You’re sure about that?”

  “Yeah. Just need you to wake up.”

  His words sounded honest and open enough.

  Closing my eyes again, I stretched my body out, wincing a bit as the muscles in my back and legs pulled. Somehow, I’d twined myself around his body when he’d sat down, encircling his back and sides, using his thigh as a hard, unyielding pillow.

  I wiggled around more and lifted a hand to stroke his side, staring at the hard wall of his abdomen.

  “You awake yet?”

  “Not sure.” Inching closer, I pressed my mouth to his stomach. Under the heather-gray of his t-shirt, I felt his stomach muscles bunch and jump.

  A sigh stuttered out of him.

  “Let me know when you figure it out.”

  “Okay.” Rising up, I dropped the blanket and sheets that had covered me and nudged his shoulders until he fell back onto the bed. When he went to pull me onto him, though, I evaded and slid off the bed, kneeling between his thighs.

  He looked at me from beneath hooded lids, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

  It faded quickly, mouth falling open on a low groan as I unzipped his jeans and tugged them open and down.

  I didn’t look at him as I bent low over him.

  His hands cradled my head, one fist loose in my hair and when I had to stop, he slid that hand to my shoulder, rubbing gently.

  I crawled up on the bed and straddled him, settling in place over his hips before I stripped my shirt away.

  Dark grey eyes moved to my breasts.

  I felt the heat of that gaze like a touch and need twisted inside me.

  I took him inside, then fell forward to brace my weight on his shoulders.

  Damon grasped my hips and together we both started to move.

  It was slow. Lazy. Sweet.

  I’d started to forget sex could be like this.

  ⸸

  “You think you’re awake now?”

  Face down on the bed, I lay with my eyes closed.

  Damon’s lips moved against my shoulder as he asked and just that simple touch of his mouth made me shiver.

  “Um.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Um.”

  “You’re making this pretty complicated.” He heaved out a sigh and I felt him leave the bed.

  Good. I was more tired now than I had been.
/>   But he wasn’t leaving.

  Two seconds later, he had me in his arms, butt-naked.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, Kit. We’ve got company waiting and we’ve already been in here long enough.” He crooked a sly smile at me. “I hadn’t realized you were planning on being so distracting.”

  “I…company?”

  “Yes. An emissary from Dair’s pack. He’s got a favor to ask of you.”

  Shit. Shoving Damon’s shoulders, I said, “Put me down.”

  “Not happening.” He shouldered into the bathroom as I tried to twist out of his arms again.

  “Damn it, I need to—”

  He kissed me, hard and fast, silencing my comment. “You need to shower. Then get dressed. Then we’ll go down. But shower first, unless you want to go down there with the smell of me all over you.”

  He finally put me down. In the shower.

  And while I was glaring at him, he ordered the shower on.

  He lived only because he didn’t climb in with me.

  ⸸

  It wasn’t just one emissary from Dair’s pack.

  There were two.

  Plus a third wolf, but I’d bet my eyeteeth that one wasn’t one of Dair’s.

  She was beautiful in bold, brash kind of way and she eyed me up and down with disdain before turning her eyes onto Damon with a lascivious leer. Taking a deliberate step forward, I cut off her view and calmly said, “Mine.”

  She blinked, heavily mascaraed lashes hiding a pair of baby blues for a fraction of a second. “You’re no cat.”

  “Mine.”

  Damon dropped a kiss on top of my and I could feel his amusement. He stepped around me then, and with no more than a nod to the two from Dair’s pack, he glanced back at me. “Call me.”

  He opened the door, but stopped, stepping aside. Doyle stood there. His eyes met Damon’s then he dipped his head a fraction, as he gave what I’d decided to call a head-bow. All Damon’s people did it when they saw him. Dair’s people did the same. Dair’s people gave Damon an abbreviated version of it, and Damon’s cats did likewise with the wolf pack’s alpha. Respect for the strongest shifters in the territory.