by Tate James
I pulled back enough to look up at him. “Next time?”
He gave me a lopsided smile. “You don’t seriously think this is the last time those fuckers will come after us, do you?”
I groaned and buried my face back into his T-shirt. “I just can’t figure it out,” I muttered. “There was no one else here. Like the whole freaking street was empty, and then all of a sudden...”
Hunter’s chest vibrated with a small laugh. “That was sort of the point. We couldn’t exactly say ‘Cleo, chill, there are fifty night panthers creeping up on us, ready to attack the second you get the fuck out of the way,’ because then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
I huffed. “Yeah, fair point. Lesson learned. What’s a night panther?”
“I’m a night panther,” Raze replied, stomping past Hunter and I with heavy boots on. He carried a stuffed-full duffle bag over his shoulder and looked stupidly stylish wearing jeans and a gray Henley with a plaid shirt wrapped around his waist.
I peered at Hunter. “I guess that’s all the explanation I get?”
He smiled, then shrugged. “For now, I guess. It’s a long drive to NOLA from here, though, so maybe you guys can bond.”
Hunter got up, giving me his hand to help me up too, and I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion. “Why did you just make that sound dirty, Crocodile Hunter?”
He gasped in mock outrage. “Who me? Never. Come on, babe. I’m calling the back seat with you this morning.”
His arm slung over my shoulders again as we headed around the side of the house in the direction Raze had gone. My cheeks still heated slightly, though. “Dirty again,” I muttered.
Not that I was complaining.
My hand still hurt, though. Hopefully that would fade.
To my surprise, the drive that day wasn’t as tense and horrible as I’d anticipated. Sure, Raze was still a surly bastard, but he seemed less aggressive about his sarcasm. Was that a thing? If not, it was now.
Boden hadn’t said anything about my disobedience during the Bastite confrontation, but he’d no doubt overheard either Hunter or Raze telling me off and decided I didn’t need it from all three of them.
Or maybe he was just saving it until we arrived in New Orleans, and he’d tear strips off my ass then.
It took some coaxing, but I learned that the inherent talent of a night panther is their ability to blend into shadows. Certainly explained a lot about how Raze kept sneaking up on me, anyway.
I also found out that Scarface had escaped the cat attack. Slippery Bast-ard.
“Do you have any idea what happened with the amulet?” Boden asked me at some stage, turning in his seat to face me. Raze was driving this time, seeing as it was his car. If it could really be called a car. More like a truck. It was this jacked-up, black Ford F-150, which Raze informed me had been kitted out to look like a Raptor. While initially it sounded a bit poseur-ish, he explained that he didn’t like the petrol fuel consumption of Raptor’s so had opted for a deisel engine and then specced it to look the same.
I still had no idea what a Raptor was.
Either way, it was huge, spacious, and would probably save our bacon if anyone else tried to run us off the road.
“Er, no?” I wrinkled my nose, toying with the amulet in question. “I was going to ask you guys the same thing. It’s not like I was wearing it when it scorched Scarface.”
Hunter snickered a laugh. “Scarface.”
“That’s true,” Boden murmured, nodding thoughtfully, “but maybe it was enough that you were in close proximity to it. I imagine you were thinking violent thoughts at the time?”
“Yup.” I nodded firmly. Boy, was I ever.
“It’s possible that the amulet was reacting to Axle’s own magic,” Raze commented. “It was never meant to be handled by magic users. Maybe that was a built in defense mechanism.”
I squinted at him in the mirror. “Who’s Axle?”
He met my gaze for a brief flicker, and I spotted a glimmer of amusement there. “Scarface,” he clarified.
“Oh. You guys know his name?”
Hunter grinned. “Yeah, but I like Scarface heaps better. Scar. Hah! Like on The Lion King. Oddly appropriate.”
They’d totally lost me, but it was pretty obvious they had some prior history with our old friend Scar.
Boden just waved it off. “Story for another day,” he said. “Look, we’re almost here.”
For the next half hour I stared out the window and absorbed all the sights and sounds of New Orleans. I freaking loved this city; it was so totally different from anywhere in the entire world.
Or... as much of the world as I’d seen.
Raze pulled us up in front of a cute, three-story house just outside the French Quarter, and we all piled out. I had kinks all through my back and took a quick second to stretch them all out.
“Ugh, holy cats, that’s good,” I groaned as my back clicked.
“How are you all knotted up?” Raze asked as he unloaded our bags from the back. “You’re the size of a pixie. There was more than enough room in Betty for you to be comfortable.”
I arched a brow at him, propping my hands on my hips. “Betty?”
Raze’s brow’s dropped in a scowl, and his lips tightened. He said nothing in response as he carried both his bag and mine up the steps to the front door.
“It’s the name of his truck,” Hunter whispered to me as we followed him. “You know... ‘Black Betty’? Like the song?”
I snickered a laugh, instantly knowing what he was talking about.
Boden knocked on the door, and we all waited in silence until an older woman, maybe somewhere in her seventies, answered.
She looked straight past the boys to me. “You’re the new one, huh?”
“Uh?” I flicked a glance at the guys, then back to the old woman. “I guess? I’m Cleo.” I held my hand out to shake hers. “Are you Marie-Elizabeth?”
The woman shook my hand with surprising strength for her age. “Gods no. Lizzie is at work already; I’m Rita. Come in; I’ll show you to the guest rooms.”
She bustled up the stairs, all the way to the top, where she pointed the guys to a bunk room and then pointed me to a beautiful guest room with a full king size bed.
“Sorry about the cramped quarters for you three,” she apologized to my guardians. “We’re a full house at the moment.”
The three of them murmured their assurances that they were fine with the bunks, but I was curious who all lived in the big old house. Who was Rita to Marie-Elizabeth?
Just as I opened my mouth to ask some of those questions, Boden cut me off.
“Rita, I hope you don’t think me rude, but we’d love a chance to speak with Marie-Elizabeth tonight. Descartes mentioned she owns a bar nearby. Would it be okay for us to drop by and speak with her there?”
I sort of knew what he was thinking. If the cultists found us here, we didn’t want to get run out of town without some answers. If she even had any answers to offer us, that was. There were a whole lot of ifs going on at the moment.
Rita shrugged. “You can, but you’d better be prepared to dress up. It’s prohibition party night. No costume, no entry.” She eyed us up, like she was mentally taking our sizes. “You up for that? Otherwise, you’re welcome to play gin rummy with me and the other old cats downstairs.”
She shot me a mischievous wink, and I bit back a grin.
Raze was the first to respond, clearing his throat and giving Rita a tight smile. “Would you happen to have any costumes we could borrow?”
The old woman beamed. “I might have a few things tucked away. Back in a tick.”
She hurried back down the stairs, leaving us alone on the landing.
“Never thought you’d be a fan of costume parties, Raze,” I snickered.
Boden smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “I think it was more the old cats that scared him.”
I snapped my fingers, just understanding. “Old cats? Like, the old guardians? The
y live here too?”
All three of them gave me bemused looks.
“Yeah, babe, Rita is one of them.” Hunter crinkled his nose at me and shook his head. “You really suck at identifying magical beings.”
Slightly offended, I folded my arms over my chest. “How the hell would I know? I didn’t even know magic existed a week ago, remember?”
“How could we forget?” Raze commented with heavy sarcasm. “You told us about sixteen times that first night that you thought it was an elaborate metaphor for life.”
“Life or something,” Boden corrected, and I scowled at both of them.
Hunter took pity on me, wrapping me in a hug, then turning me around so my back was tucked into his chest. “Aw, don’t be mad, Cleo-babe. I just meant you can’t feel the sort of hum around magical beings? For us, we can pick out a magic user just from being in close contact.”
“Oh.” Okay, that made me feel less stupid. “No, I haven’t noticed that. Maybe I should pay more attention?”
Raze snorted. “Probably.”
I magnanimously ignored his jab. “So if Marie-Elizabeth’s guardians still live here, why don’t we ask them about all this shit?” I waggled my necklace at them. “And all the, you know...” I mimed the cultist bursting into flame and crumbling to ash and then the amulet burning Scarface. Roll with it, my charades were on point.
“Is Margaret having a seizure?” Raze murmured to Boden, who looked a bit unsure how to respond to that.
I sighed. “You guys suck.”
Thankfully we were saved from any more of my seizures by Rita reappearing with an armful of garment bags.
“Here.” She handed them out to each of us. “Those should fit. I’m a good judge of size. You’ll want to hurry, though. Doors lock at nine o’clock and don’t reopen until three am. Part of the authenticity of the party.” She gave us another of those playful winks, then left us alone to get changed.
As weird as the whole situation was... I was stupidly excited to get dressed up for a costume party. Hopefully the costume Rita picked for me wasn’t horrible.
Chapter Sixteen
“Is this seat taken?” A sexy, deep voice asked from behind me, and I grinned to myself. He stood so close his breath warmed my bare neck, and it was everything I could do not to shiver with desire.
“Yes, sorry,” I replied, spinning on my leather barstool. “It’s reserved for one of the three crazy cats who’ve been stalking me all the way from Oregon. Don’t suppose you’ve seen them?” I took an innocent sip of my brightly colored hurricane, batting my lashes.
Boden grinned back at me. “Crazy cats stalking you? That sounds serious. Maybe I should stick around to keep you safe.”
“Oh well, if it’s to keep me safe.” I gestured dramatically at the open stool beside me. “Be my guest.”
His heavy gaze remained locked on me as he slid onto the seat and spun my own stool so that we were face to face. “Good cocktail?”
I took another long sip and licked my lips. “Delicious. Want some?”
Boden’s attention was locked with laser focus on my lips, and a spike of satisfaction hit me when he sucked in a shaky breath. “Gods yes,” he said on the exhale. “And I’ll try the drink, too.”
He reached out and brought my drink to his mouth, taking a sip from my straw while his heavy-lidded gaze returned to my face.
Holy freaking cats. How did he just turn that into an erotic act? Because my panties were officially wet. Wet, wet, wet. Maybe he’d be open to a quickie in the disabled bathroom?
“How many of those have you two had?” Raze demanded, appearing beside us like a fucking storm cloud. Just like that, my panties were dry again. Like magic.
Kidding, they probably got a smidge wetter because, fuck me, that asshole looked like something straight out of a sex dream in his twenties style suit, complete with bowtie and tails.
Move aside, Jay Gatsby, my big old pussycats had this era all kinds of stitched up.
Wow.
Just wow.
“Mags,” Raze snapped. Literally. Snapped his fingers in front of my face.
That was becoming an annoying habit that I was totally not on board with.
“What?” I replied, peering up at him. It took me a moment to remember his question. “Not many. Why? They’re mostly just juice anyway.”
Raze looked like he wanted to smack some sense into me... which kind of clued me in before he said, “They’re so far from just fruit juice it’s not even funny. What’s your excuse, boss?” He turned his sharp gaze to Boden, who just smiled and shrugged.
“No excuse, just enjoying Miss Cleo’s company.”
Raze rolled his eyes and went to run a hand through his hair before remembering it was tied up in a sexy, half-up situation. I’d never been into dudes with long hair before. Ever. But if anyone could make it hot, it was Raze.
And he did. In case you were wondering. Hah, kidding, I know I’ve said it a zillion times, but I’m likely to say it a zillion more. Raze. Was. Gorgeous.
“For the love of Ra,” the bronzed god muttered, “never thought I’d see the day that you’d let your dick do the thinking. Maybe you two should just go fuck in the cloakroom and get it out of your systems.”
“Projecting, Raziel?” Boden replied with a slightly challenging smirk, and I awkwardly slipped off my stool. This was not a conversation I wanted to be literally sitting in the middle of.
“I’m just gonna... uh... pee.” I made my excuse and hurried through the crowded bar to the restrooms. I hadn’t needed to actually pee, but after sipping on hurricanes for a solid hour, peeing was probably a good idea.
After I did my thing and washed my hands, I smoothed some water over my fluoro-pink hair while inspecting myself in the mirror. For the first time since my hair disaster, I actually didn’t mind the shockingly bright shade of pink.
A lot of that had to do with the gorgeous lilac dress that Rita had found for me to wear. It was a satin shift covered by a heavy, beaded overlay and finished with fringing at the hem, which moved and swayed with my every movement. It was gorgeous and eye catching and probably the prettiest thing I’d ever worn in my life. Somehow—magic, I guess—Rita had even found me a pair of heels that fit and some authentic, thigh-high stockings with seams up the back.
The whole outfit was scorching hot, and it made me wish that we still dressed with the care and beauty of the twenties.
Not that I’d give up jeans and leather jackets for the world, but you know what I meant.
“Cleo-babe!” Hunter called to me when I exited the bathroom and looked around for my guardians. Boden and Raze had gone from the bar area, where I’d left them, and all three were now sitting around a little table in the VIP lounge.
I wove through the tightly packed party-goers to join them and perched awkwardly on the bench seat with my hands under my thighs. Raze’s interruption earlier had reminded me that fucking my guardians was still a no-no, despite Hunter and I having already broken that rule. Given we were out in public and in a bar owned by the previous amulet bearer, it might be wise to keep my lusty paws to myself.
“Here.” Raze handed me another fun-looking drink with umbrellas and fruit all spilling out the top of it.
I accepted it with a small smile. “Thanks.” My lips closed over the straw, and I took a long sip. “Mmm, that’s really good. What is it?”
“Actual fruit juice,” Raze informed me with a small smirk. “Without the alcohol. Sober up, Mags, we’re here for work, not play.” He shot a glance at Boden. “Can’t believe I’m the one reminding everyone of this fact.”
Boden just shrugged and took a sip of his drink—which was definitely not fruit juice. In fact, it looked like straight spirits, and there was something intensely attractive about a well-dressed man sipping neat spirits from a crystal glass. It was like we were in a time warp, and I never wanted to leave.
“She’s a bad influence on you, boss,” Raze muttered, checking his watch. “Marie-E
lizabeth should be out to chat soon.”
“The waitress said she’d be out over half an hour ago,” Hunter pointed out. “For now, there’s nothing to do but enjoy the party. Doors are locked until three am, remember?”
Just then, another well-dressed man approached our group. He was younger—I think—than my guardians, but decently handsome with neatly combed hair and a clean-shaven face.
“Excuse me,” he said giving the guys a cursory glance but speaking to me. “Would you care to dance?”
I gaped at him, caught off guard and not sure how to respond.
“I was watching you and couldn’t decide if you were with one of these guys, but then I thought, no man would leave his girl sitting here looking bored when he could be dancing with her, right?”
He gave me a charming smile, but it was the subtle wink that did me in.
“I’d love to,” I announced, jumping up and accepting his outstretched hand before any of my companions could object.
As we wove our way through the people to the dance floor, he laid a light—respectful—hand on the small of my back. “I give it five minutes before one of them cuts in,” he told me, spinning me around to face him when we found a clear space of floor.
“Five?” I raised my brows. “They’ll easily spend longer than that thinking up painful and exotic torture techniques for you. I’ll say eight.”
The handsome blond grinned and checked his watch. “You’re on. Which one?”
I shot a glance back across the bar to where three big cat shifters stared at me. “Uh, Hunter, for sure. The cheeky Australian brunet.”
My dance partner laughed a full, rich sound. “No way, you’re crazy. It’s definitely that delicious looking warrior with the piercing green eyes. He’s been looking like he wanted to maul you since the moment y’all stepped foot in here.”
I shook my head at him in disbelief, but didn’t argue. Deep down, I kinda hoped it would be Raze.
Okay, not that deep. Whatever, we all knew I was hot for him, bad attitude and all.
