“Purely business, I assure you.”
“Perhaps a pet, then?” Qwynn asked, her eyes now glowing with power.
“Careful, I bite,” Vivien said from behind me. Then she let out a yip-yip, and growled like a dog.
The urge to laugh took me by surprise, but I stifled it.
Qwynn didn’t take her eyes off me, but ire flashed in them before she could hide it. Vivien had cut through her shield of cool, aloof power. Vivien’s powers of antagonism were impressive. I already knew that, though.
Qwynn shrugged, then said, “Good to see you, Grim.”
I only granted her a slight raise of the head.
Time sped up as music pounded around us again. The dancing mob resumed their enthusiastic writhing, and Qwynn was gone. The partygoers stepped in to fill the gap she’d left behind. I removed my other hand from my pocket and took a deep breath. I drained the remaining contents of my drink.
“So who the hell was that?” Vivien demanded.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, making my way to a tall, round table at the edge of the dance floor. I set the empty glass down. Vivien followed.
“She was powerful, like you, like Bianca.”
“Yes,” I confirmed, not wanting to talk about this any longer, but Vivien, of course, persisted.
“But they can’t reap souls?”
“No, they are…they have different powers.” I turned to face Vivien. “Qwynn is not someone to trifle with.”
“Why? Because she might pull out my hair and scratch my eyes? Or because she’s your ex?” She folded her arms, daring me to say otherwise.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. How did she do that? Take me by complete and utter surprise?
As if reading my thoughts, she waved a hand. “Please, it’s obvious she wants you back. I’m not an idiot.” She pushed her hair back behind her ear in a vulnerable gesture that was unusual for her. “What happened between you two? And what kind of gal dates Death?”
“The kind who shouldn’t be messed with,” I reiterated, shooting a warning look at Vivien. “She wasn’t here for me. She was here for you.”
Vivien drew closer. Her presence erased the remnants of Qwynn that lingered around me. “What? How can you tell?”
“I picked up a few key things about my ex-wife, so I know she was here to check on you, not me.”
“Wife,” she repeated in a lower tone, as if absorbing that fact.
A scream interrupted us, somehow piercing through the cacophony of the club. The music stopped and the crowd parted again, this time in a panic. A man dangled in the arms of the large, muscular vampire. He was gushing blood all over the dance floor, his throat torn out.
15
Bruiser was back, and it looked as though he’d found a snack. After all, I’d kept him from chowing down on Miranda, so the poor dear must be hungry.
All hell broke out, as shouting people ran every which way in a mass of confusion.
My stomach somersaulted, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the abject look of terror on the victim’s face or if it was the tantalizing smell of hot, human blood calling to me. The victim dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes and Bruiser strode over to the convulsing man. The club lights accentuated his broken, blunt nose.
Part of me hoped his brain would overload again, and his violence would drain away like it had the last time and he’d turn right around to go back to where he came from.
He bared his teeth at me with promise.
Or not…
Grim stepped in front of me and his power whipped out in a mantle. Most everyone had cleared out, leaving us supernaturals to duke it out. When Grim spoke, his voice was layered and sonorous, like when he yelled at me about my Mistress Kitty outfit. “You come into my club, harm one of my guests, and think you will walk out alive?”
