Fireborne, p.8
Fireborne, page 8
part #1 of Raven Cursed Series
I forgot the control I’d worked so hard to master. I didn’t want to be responsible and strong. I wanted to be weak and careless. I grasped his hair even tighter, slowly inhaling the power, breathing it in, waiting for the typical reaction. But I didn’t get it from Mephisto. He welcomed the darkness and was so easily willing to claim death. He wanted it. I could sense his desire. I’d never felt anything like it before. I would give him a good death.
“Am I interrupting something?” Kieran asked. “I’m a little early.”
I thanked the universe that he had. Madison was right, I needed to do something else. At the very least, stay as far away from Mephisto as possible. Kieran’s eyes bounced between us.
“No,” I said, moving away from Mephisto. “You’re right on time.”
Mephisto forced a thin smile.
“No, you’re just in time,” I repeated. And he was. He’d prevented me from making a big mistake.
Mephisto extended his hand to Kieran and they exchanged insincere greetings and small talk as I rushed to get more distance between me and Mephisto. Dammit. What the hell was I thinking?
I moved toward the bar, the arrivals giving me a once-over and dismissing me, probably assuming I was there for gaming oversight. In the time I’d spent with Mephisto, several guests had arrived. I stared at the assortment of bottles. Tequila. I needed tequila. Nope. The last thing I needed was to be less inhibited. As soon as I ordered it, I canceled it.
“You always struck me as a bourbon type of woman,” said the deep, smooth baritone voice behind me. A blush of anger spread along my cheeks and bridge of my nose as I resisted the urge to move away. Asher sidled up to the bar a few feet from me and ordered whiskey.
I kept my hands balled tight into fists at my sides because if I didn’t, he would have been wearing the whiskey, not drinking it.
He took a sip and when he pulled the glass away, his lips furled into a crooked smirk. Silver eyes sparked. The low growl that came from me surprised me and amused him.
My nails dug into my palms the tighter I balled my fists. I shouldn’t let him get to me. He gathered too much joy from it. He shifted his weight to his left foot, once again giving me a better view of him. Why did it always look like he was posing for me? He took bigger sips from his glass, finally emptying it and placing the glass on the counter.
“Erin, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” He drawled my name with the excitement and familiarity of an old friend. My mood lightened at the thought of the Taser sheathed in my belt, near my lower back, concealed by my shirt.
I smiled. Welcomed him closer. Come closer. Flashes of him jerking on the floor, flopping around like a fish out of water, brought an even wider smile to my face.
“It’s always a pleasure seeing you as well, Asher,” I said, my tone just as bright and friendly as his. I hoped the menace didn’t show in my eyes.
He looked at me, eyes skeptical and assessing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think all was forgiven.”
“Of course, it was just business, right? You got there first, it was your find.” No, it wasn’t. You cheated. He had anticipated all my moves and had specific details about my whereabouts. I was careful, so how did he know?
“That’s a very mature and professional way to look at it. All’s fair,” he said.
He was close but not close enough for me to lunge at him before he could react. He had the advantage of shifter speed and agility and was adept with it. The movement of a predator on the hunt—even in a casual setting. I needed him closer. His gaze dropped from mine to look at my hand that was inching around to my back. Then I stopped abruptly. Compromising this job and possibly ruining my reputation, for what? Him? I wouldn’t do that. The best way to get back at him was to beat him at his own game. Find out what he wanted most of all and ensure that I got it first. What did someone like Asher want most of all?
He moved closer and noticeably inhaled the air, closing his eyes and making a light noise, a beat. The steady metronome of sound kept increasing in pace. It was just too easy now to grab my Taser and zap him. The potential sweetness of that revenge lingered on my palate. I hated that I couldn’t indulge the idea. He opened his eyes and fixed me with a look, and I knew he was mimicking the beat of my heart as it increased with his proximity. My gaze narrowed on him.
He grabbed his refilled glass off the bar and leaned toward me. “You’re a hunter. Good at what you do, but you’re still just a hunter. I’m an apex predator. I will always be one step ahead of you.”
Screw it. I was going to wipe that smirk off his face even if I made a scene. I didn’t care. They knew he was a jackass. It might just increase my credibility. People may applaud me for daring to live the dream. Living my best life and putting the wolf in his place. My hand was slipping down my waist toward the weapon when Mephisto eased between us.
“Erin,” he said smoothly, invading my space so much it forced me to move back and distance myself from him and essentially Asher. Drink in hand, Asher sauntered away, past me, the smug vulpine look on his face making everything in me desperate to wipe it off.
“I need to show you where you will be stationed,” he said, heading for the exit. I followed, looking straight ahead, aware that if I looked back at Asher, I would react badly.
We hadn’t made it to the door when Benton approached, escorting a woman. She didn’t need any introduction. Victoria Kelsey, the owner of Kelsey’s, was the center of attention wherever she was. Her movements were a fluid glide with an air of confidence that managed to be both captivating and off-putting. Despite her petite stature, she had a commanding presence. The lilac blouse with oversized bow complemented her warm, fawn-colored skin, and the fitted beige pants highlighted her toned form. Once in the middle of the room, she shrugged off the jacket she had resting over her shoulders. Narrowed midnight eyes gave the room another sweeping look. Bowed lips pressed into a tight delicate line; she was unimpressed.
Her attention went to Mephisto, leveling him with a look that could only be interpreted as “I expected more.” Amusement flitted along her heart-shaped face as she watched me studying her. Then her face faded to neutral and I knew any questions I may have had about her, she had no intentions of answering.
“This is quaint,” she said. The melodious tone didn’t soften her barb.
Mephisto approached her with the casual confidence of a person who cared so little of what others thought that insults rolled off him as if he were Teflon. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it and she nodded in appreciation.
“Of course, Victoria. When you are in a room, all things pale in comparison. Everything becomes quaint.”
Seriously?
Minutes were spent blandishing each other, stroking egos that didn’t need it. I looked around at the guests. With the exception of Landon, Kieran, Alex, and Asher, I didn’t recognize anyone. If there were any humans present, I couldn’t tell because of the strong magic that inundated the room. It was always better when I didn’t focus on it, actively ignored it. Madison was right: Why did I keep doing this to myself? Because I can handle it. It was usually the euphoric feel of the magic that got to me. Now it was a little harder because there were waves of magic, with Mephisto’s overpowering it all. The odd difference in his magic snagged me again. Then there were the low notes of Victoria’s, which was another lure I wasn’t familiar with. I took it all in, and for a brief moment regretted taking this contract and considered Madison’s job offer, where I’d avoid most of this.
I can handle it. I whispered the mantra over and over, my gaze moving over the room, taking it and the people in. It stopped for a moment on Asher. Doing so evoked the same anger as earlier, but it was better than fixating on the magic surrounding me.
“Erin.” Mephisto’s tone was light and easy but still commanding as he redirected my attention back to him. “Let me show you where you’ll be set up.”
Drink in one hand, he used the other to nudge me to turn around. I didn’t leave the area without giving Asher a final baleful glare. He kissed the air and mouthed a goodbye.
Mephisto guided me out, his imposing body close to me like a bodyguard.
“I see you two ex-lovers still have some unresolved feelings. May I suggest you deal with them later and not while you are working for me?”
“I’m not working for you. It’s a contract I got from you. And Asher and I aren’t ex-lovers.” My voice was dagger sharp with irritation, but instead of adding to my denial, the tone held the edge of a lover scorned. I understood why Mephisto looked unconvinced.
With a light airy chuckle, he whispered, “Passion is often misdirected, Ms. Jensen. You may intertwine it with your anger, but it doesn’t cover its existence. I suspect there is more than just anger between you two.” My scowl earned me another laugh. “I could be wrong, but I rarely am in matters like this.” His dark gaze roved over me slowly. “Just like, no matter how you deny it, you are curious about me, and I am about you. I admit mine. I’m not sure why you continue to deny yours. It’s just curiosity, nothing more, unless you choose to . . .” He let the rest of the sentence linger.
After moments of silence, he added, “Such denial can’t be good for the soul,” his tone teasing and dark.
He wasn’t wrong. I was curious, and knowing that he shared in that curiosity complicated things. He named himself after the devil’s servant, I reminded myself.
“Stop worrying about my soul, Satan,” I blurted.
His laughter rumbled throughout the room. It was too friendly, disarming. It sent out alarms. I considered declining the job, returning the retainer, and going on my merry way. Sever my relationship with him. Take the job Madison suggested and live my boring life. I wouldn’t be happy, but it would make my mother and Madison happier.
But then my curiosity and desire to experience his magic blazed up again. He seemed willing to let me. Did he realize how dangerous a game he was playing? His curiosity could be the end of him, and mine could be the end of the life I knew.
He opened the door to the room just a few inches, leaving enough space for me to enter sideways and causing us to be face to face.
“I trust no harm will come to me,” he said with breezy confidence.
Pulling my gaze from his, I walked in and took in the surveillance system. It was highly unlikely it had been installed upon my request for the game. Two large screens took up one entire wall. Dropping down into the large executive chair, I kicked my legs up on the desk, looking at the screens that gave me a panoramic view of the room I’d just left. On the wall to the right was a view of the entire house, each room on a separate screen. I tapped a few keys to change the view in each room.
“Do your visitors know that they are on video?”
“There aren’t any cameras in my bedroom, or any of the bedrooms, if that’s what you are worried about.”
“That’s good. No one wants to see what goes on with that chicken and goat in your bedroom,” I countered.
He gave a deep chuckle, half turning to give me a look over his shoulder. “Chicken? Goat?”
“I don’t claim to know what your deal is with the devil to keep him from claiming your soul, Mephisto. I assume there’s a weird dance, chanting, and an animal sacrifice.”
He moved so sleek and fast, I sucked in a sharp breath when I found him leaning over the desk, his intense, inquiring eyes fixed on mine.
“I’m confused. Do you consider me Satan or his servant?” he asked.
“Only you would know that. Are you Mephistopheles as seen in the works of Faust or are you the devil himself?”
His answer didn’t come immediately. How hard a question was it: Are you Satan or his servant? I knew he was neither, but I wanted to know his name and had been reduced to juvenile antics to try and get it. I wished I was above it.
His real name. The complexity and absurdity of people’s nature is that denial heightens longing. Upright now, he took slow, measured steps backward, away from me. Amusement played over his features. “I’m no one’s servant,” he said before turning to look back at the screens.
It was ridiculous calling him Mephisto. He seemed to know far more about me and my kind than I had thought, and I didn’t know the first thing about him. It was bugging me. With a name, I could begin to investigate. Just give me a name.
“Is it working?” he finally asked.
“What?”
“All the effort you make trying to make me seem so undesirable? Have you succeeded?”
His dark eyes appraised me intensely for several moments. “If it hasn’t, know that the offer stands. Perhaps you will enjoy that devil’s playground.” As if to drive home his words, I heard the faint sound of The Rigs’s song “Devil’s Playground.” I was now convinced that he chose Mephisto for the numerous songs about the devil at his disposal. I remembered our first meeting, when I made a comment about working for the devil; on my next visit, I was met with the song “Sinnerman” by Nina Simone. It played at a low volume during the entirety of the meeting.
My rebuttal was not nearly as well thought out as I’d like. Mephisto flustered me.
“I have no interest in what happens in your bedroom because I’ll never be one of the women in it. Your magic makes me curious and yes, I want to know what it feels like, but not enough to risk having anything more than what we have now. The tall, dark, and mysterious shtick doesn’t intrigue me the way you think it does.”
“Hmm,” he mused, “if you believe any of that to be true, then good for you.” He was out the door, giving me a quick, “Be careful with the job.”
Be careful. It was the platitude I hated the most. Most people tried to be careful. What was the alternative—be reckless?
CHAPTER 9
Within half an hour, the games had started and there wasn’t much to see. If people knew they were on camera, they ignored it, with the exception of Asher. He looked at his cards, placed his bid, and the rest of the time his gaze stayed on the camera. I would have ignored him, but I had to keep an eye on the room, and each time my attention went to camera four, there he was, looking up at it.
He didn’t look down at his hand or any card that was played or his growing pile of chips and two acquired items: another moon ring and a Glanin’s claw. I had a claw. They weren’t magical, just very useful when dealing with a shifter. It clamped around the arm, usually, although some were large enough to get around the ankle. A quick press of a button injected an unreasonable amount of silver into the wearer, preventing them from shifting. Even if shifters were mid-shift, the claw was strong enough to knock them right out of it. I could only afford one. A single-use product, I kept it as a last resort. And here these people were offering them up like they were trinkets.
In the time it took to move my gaze from one screen to another, everyone was frozen in their spot. Just as I suspected, there were two people involved and they were filling their bags like children grabbing Halloween candy. I did a quick check: Taser sheathed, 9mm with rubber bullets, another holstered at my left leg, and knife sheathed at my lower leg. I raced out of the surveillance room.
When I burst into the game room, the female’s bright green eyes widened. A shock of red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Parchment skin flushed to just a few shades lighter than her hair. She wasn’t able to dodge the rubber bullet. It hit her hard, knocking her on her ass. Distracted by whatever was in her hand that she was readying to lob at me, I didn’t see the man who tackled me. His slim, coltish build felt denser than I expected. Struggling to get the upper hand, hammer pounding on his back, I felt him go for my gun. It was only a matter of time before he grabbed it. I smashed my head into his nose. It didn’t break it but distracted him enough so I could toss him off me. Still on the floor, I blocked the blow from the redhead and countered with one that hit her squarely in the jaw. Her bleat, a shrill distressed sound, made it apparent she had never been punched before, used to having magic at her disposal. I reached for my 9mm, but it was gone. I scanned quickly and saw it sprawled several feet from us. When the man came to his knees, I grabbed the gun with the rubber bullets and shot him in the arm and her in the leg. She went down with a thud. Pulling myself to my feet, I grabbed the zip ties I’d lost and approached him.
Magic slammed into my back. I crashed to the ground and quickly rolled to my feet. My elbow caught the witch in the throat. As she gasped for breath, I noticed the chain around her neck. The charm on it explained her unlimited and powerful magic. I yanked it from her neck.
Her partner rushed me, moving so fast it took a moment to register his movement. The front kick landed in the middle of his chest, and the spin kick knocked him back to the floor.
Snatching up the zip ties again, I approached, ready to secure him. His red, furious eyes slipped in the redhead’s direction. Something in his face made me realize she was the magic, he was the transportation, and no way was he leaving without her.
Without the enhancement charm, she didn’t have an infinite pool of magic to pull from. Wynding in with her partner and rendering the players frozen would deplete even a powerful witch such as herself.
The man’s eyes were still ablaze with anger but now they turned as black as the streaks in his brown hair. I stepped back, feeling a flood of magical energy pushing off him. I’d seen that wave of color before: Shifters had it right before they changed. What type of shifter could Wynd? My mind raced through the possibilities. New hybrid? Possible. He was a shifter and what? More magic, harder, tumultuous, rose from him. His body contorted, and black scales punctured his skin, rolling over his body, covering once-human arms as his body quadrupled in size. Before me, a black dragon with eyes just as dark as his scales emerged. His tail lashed at me and spun my other gun across the room. I flipped out of the way and grabbed the gun I had lost. I shot once, hitting him in the chest. He didn’t budge, not even an inch. I shot again, hitting him in the temple. I was rewarded with a slight jerk of his head.
