Loren gave a sigh. “Let’s hope they own some bicycles.”
Dallas grinned, a mischievous glint in her silver-green eyes. “That’s my girl!”
Dallas stayed at Loren’s side as she knelt before Sabrine’s photo and said a prayer to the gods and goddesses of the Star. She placed Stumpy on the sidewalk, next to the smiling face of their missing friend, hoping her prayer would help Sabrine find her way home.
—
“You didn’t tell me Loren had a smoking-hot redhead for a friend,” Maximus said to Darien as he walked at his side.
“And you didn’t tell me the cat’s got your tongue as soon as a pretty girl hits on you before you can hit on her.” He might’ve laughed, had he not felt just as tongue-tied as Max when he’d laid eyes on Loren earlier that evening. Luckily, he’d snapped the hell out of it before she could notice him gawking at the shape of her ass in the jeans she was wearing. Although she drove him up the wall more times than he could count, he had to admit she had an incredible body. Absolutely incredible.
Never mind that he’d sensed her arousal last week when she’d watched him remotely track her friend. He’d spent too many hours afterward wondering about the thoughts that had crossed her filthy little mind—and how it would’ve felt if he’d touched her between those glorious legs she’d pressed together under the table.
Fuck, he needed to get laid. This wholeprotection dutything wasn’t helping him think straight. He was already beginning to forget what life had been like before this human girl had come along.
Despite the crowd he was navigating, and despite that Max was at his side, remembering that night instantly put him in a state of semi-arousal. He had been so tempted to stroke her mind a little harder—just enough to see the look on her gorgeous face when release found her at his touch. It was a hellseher ability that was difficult to master, and not a lot of people knew about it, even other hellsehers. But no matter how much he would’ve thoroughly enjoyed watching her squirm, he wouldn’t have done it. Not without her permission.
But…even if she had invited him to do so—or, rather, acceptedhisinvitation, even if it had mostly been for teasing purposes—he likely would’ve declined. It would…complicate things. And besides, she was too good for that. Too good forhim. The near-constant color of her aura was evidence enough to back that statement up. After all, white sheets were the easiest to stain.
Darien’s Familiar Spirit spoke from within his shadow, his misty voice slicing into Darien’s thoughts.You could simply be nicer to her and see where it gets you. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to listen to your filthy internal brooding.
Mind your own, Bandit,Darien replied, though he did find himself shooting a backward glance at Loren, who was barely visible now through the crowds of people.
You’re fond of her,Bandit said.You don’t need to deny it.
Now’s not the time.
The spirit countered,Now’s never the time.But he stopped arguing after that.
“I think that’s a moot point,” Max mumbled, snapping Darien’s attention away from his nosy Familiar. Darien gave his head a shake to clear his thoughts. “But maybe you shouldn’t send me on any undercover jobs; I do better with blood than words.”
Darien smirked. “Clearly.”
They found Logan Sands near the edge of the crowd. The pure-blooded werewolf was by himself today; no pack members in sight, and the breeze that swept through the street carried no hints that any of them were lurking nearby.
Logan was a brawny brute with shoulder-length dark hair, brown skin windburned to a warmer shade, and eyes the color of the sun—upturned at the outer corners. The sun-colored eyes were a characteristic all werewolves shared; because of them, they were easy to pick out in a crowd, just as it was easy to pick out a venefica due to the silver cast to their irises. Easy even for humans, who had no enhanced senses to alert them to their presence.
Although it was against the law for a werewolf to hunt human flesh, there was the odd one who rebelled and did so in secret, unable to resist the taste of mortal blood for long. The law enforcement hardly gave enough of a shit to catch the offenders, for humans contributed so little to society that they usually weren’t missed once they were gone. And then there was the issue of the Meatpacking District, its operators giving even less of a shit than the law enforcement.
This city was a mess, he had to admit. It was dark and dirty and riddled with sinners, but it was his city, the only land he’d ever known. On some sleepless nights, the horns of the sinners became halos, and the streets felt like paradise.
The werewolf’s keen senses alerted him to their arrival seconds before Darien and Max reached his side. Logan turned to face them, concealing the surprise he felt upon seeing them here. Several months had passed since they’d done so much as talk.
Darien supposed that was his fault.
“Darien.” Logan’s chin dipped in greeting. “Maximus. What brings you two here?”
“We’d like to give our condolences for your sister,” Darien replied. Chrysantha had gone missing one week before Sabrine.
“I appreciate that,” Logan said, though his voice was strained.
Darien had a feeling Logan was holding his tongue against the words he really wanted to say—about what had taken place roughly ten months ago, when a tragedy had led to Logan rising in rank to leader of all wolf packs in the Silverwood District, Werewolf Territory of Angelthene. A tragedy that involved the death of Logan’s father. Darien had been too…busyto help Logan and the other wolves. Truth be told, he and the other Devils were at a house party hosted by the Angels of Death, and Darien had spent the night locked in a closet with Christa Copenspire, a girl he was sort-of-dating-but-not. It wasn’t a good enough excuse to miss a call for help from a friend, and Logan clearly hadn’t forgotten about that yet.
Logan said, “Are you here just to give your condolences for my sister, or did you know the Van Arsdell girl as well?”
“We came here with Sabrine’s two best friends,” Darien explained.
A curious glint entered Logan’s eyes, his nostrils flaring as he scented the girls on Darien and Max. “Has so much changed in the last few months that Darkslayers now run with witches and humans?”
