But before the second ring on Ronan’s line, my hope died. The warmth that had buoyed my spirits only moments ago vanished just as quickly as it’d arrived, leaving a cold, hollow dread in its wake.
Something was wrong.
I closed my eyes and reached out for her with everything I had, following the tendrils of her scent that still lingered faintly. I could feel the rush of blood to her head. I could feel her fucking heartbeat.
It was too fast.
I forced myself to take another breath through my nose, my senses still hunting for more. Her presence came back stronger for a moment, but then soured. I felt things—tastedthings—that simply should not have been. The surge of her magic, familiar but for a new tinge of something rotten and diseased. The sharp, knife-blade edge of her panic, followed almost at once by a flood of boundless determination. And though our blood bond did not afford me a glimpse into Gray’s thoughts, my gut—which, much like blood, had never led me astray—told me that my little brawler was embarking on a journey from which she’d likely not return.
Ronan’s voicemail greeting announced his absence, and I forced myself not to throw my damn phone into the wall.
Infernal damn devices!
“Vacarro,” I barked. “Where the bloody hell are you? Kindly return my call at your earliest convenience, by which I clearly mean call me back in the next two minutes unless you want to die a painful and bloody death the likes of which your kind has not yet known.”
I tossed the phone onto the bed and paced the depressing room. Counted the unidentifiable stains in the dingy, threadbare carpet. Left three additional voicemails and sent a dozen texts to each of their numbers, none of which were being returned.
Bloodyhell, waiting was a terrible way to pass the time.
Where could they possibly be?
Out of range? Stealthily tracking a potential source? In trouble?
Concern flickered in my gut as the last possibility continued to rear its ugly head.
I retrieved the phone.
“You’ve got one more minute, demon,” I said, attempting to leave yet another pointless voicemail. “Or I’ll have no choice but to—”
My warning was cut off by the flood of a new scent cresting just outside my door—adrenaline, mingled with fear and the unmistakable scent of raw male aggression.Humanmale aggression—the worst sort there was.
No sooner had I darted behind a tall dresser just inside the door did the keycard reader beep, and two brawny men slipped inside my room, quietly shutting the door behind them. They were fairly nondescript, dressed in plain jeans and faded T-shirts. Each had what appeared to be a rune branded into his inner forearm, but otherwise no identifiable tattoos or markings.
I was certain I’d never seen or scented them before. Yet they seemed to be looking for me. They’d procured a copy of my key.
And a set of dangerously pointy hawthorn stakes.
I had approximately eight more seconds before their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and they turned and spotted me.
The one who seemed to be in charge pointed at the Queen-sized bed at the center of the room, then gestured for the other to look underneath, as if they were dealing with a small child hiding from a monster.
At this, I grinned, my anxiety somewhat loosening.
Iamthe monster, you bloody imbeciles.
I supposed I owed the legends my gratitude; of the humans who believed in our existence, many thought we slept away the daylight hours in coffins. The dark, confined space under the bed seemed like the logical choice.
I’d be more than happy to set the record straight.
As the boss scanned the rest of the room, his number two—younger, probably less experienced—crouched down on the far side of the bed, stake clutched menacingly in his hand, and I saw my opportunity.
With all the strength I possessed, I shoved the tall dresser, plowing it into the boss and crushing him against the wall. I heard the crunch of bone and a deep grunt. The wet stain of his blood darkened the carpet below.
“Fuck!” Number Two shouted, leaping to his feet. “Jerry!”
“I’m afraid Jerry can’t respond right now,” I said. “Pity.”
He stared at the stain on the carpet beneath the dresser. He was so disturbed by the sight, he seemed to have forgotten I was the cause of it.
