Page 18 of The Fanged One

Her makeup was minimal because she rarely wore it, and she kept only a travel bag of makeup and toiletries at the Oslo apartment. She stuck with her tinted moisturizer, a clean flick of black liquid liner at the outer corner of each eye, mascara, and a swipe of red lip gloss.

The dress was the one Alruna had bought her for her last birthday, and she hadn't had a chance to wear it. It was dark blue velvet, long-sleeved, fell mid-thigh, and fitted her generous curves within an inch of public decency.

She put on sheer black stockings and ankle boots with a heel low enough to walk in. It wasn't snowing, but she wasn't in the mood to break an ankle from one slick misstep in anything higher. She turned once before the mirror, decided she couldn't improve on it, and walked out of her bedroom before she lost her nerve.

Fenris was standing at the window of Tor's lounge with his back to the room, looking out at the lights of Oslo. The black shirt he had conjured for himself was rolled to the elbows. His hands were in his pockets. The streetlight made the long pale line of his profile look like something a sculptor had carved to perfection.

Linnea's palms went sweaty. Gods, he was beautiful. He looked like a feral thing dressed in nice clothes.

That's exactly what he is, her wolf whispered unhelpfully.

She cleared her throat so it wouldn't crack. "I'm good to go when you are."

Fenris turned and stared at her without answering. His pale blue eye went dark, and his half-gray one lit at the edges. The wolf was suddenly looking out at her through a man's face.

Linnea's body went hot. Her wolf wagged so hard she thought she was going to have a heart attack. The backs of her knees went stupid. She kept her chin up because she had úlfheðnar pride if nothing else, and because if she dropped her gaze first, he would know she was intimidated.

"What?" she demanded, her hands going to her hips. "Too much?"

"Have you forgotten half of it?"

"Excuse me?"

"The dress." He gestured vaguely at the entire length of it. His voice deepened as he asked, "Where is the rest of it?"

"This is the whole dress, Fenris. Women's fashion has changed a lot since you last walked the earth. You're going to have to get used to it because you will see a hell of a lot less on women tonight."

"What makes you think I care what other women are wearing?"

Fenris made a small, frustrated sound at the back of his throat that wasn't quite a growl. His mouth set, and the sheer brooding wattage of his face went up by a measurable amount.

It shouldn't have made him look even hotter. It shouldn't have made her hotter. It absolutely did.

"If you go out like that, it seems I'm going to be fighting more than your relatives tonight," he grumbled.

"Yes, well, that sounds like a you problem." Linnea went to a cupboard by the door and took out one of her nice coats. It was a long black wool trench, lined with black fur, that would keep her bare legs warm. "You'd better conjure yourself a coat, or people will stare at you."

A leather jacket appeared over his shirt, and Linnea couldn't help but feel a little envious that he could do that.

"Are you ready?" she asked, picking up her keys.

"No," he muttered, his eyes looking at her legs.

"Tough. Let's go," Linnea said, and she was careful to hide her smile when his brood deepened.

Ritual was already busy with a long line when they pulled up at the curb and got out of their taxi. The street was wet from a thin Oslo sleet, and bass was leaking up through the pavement.

Fenris stopped at the corner of the building before they reached the door. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and looked at the whole black-painted brick facade.

"There are dragon wards on this place," he said, sounding surprised.

Linnea blinked at him. "How can you tell?"

"They taste like fire when I breathe in."

"Cool," she whispered because she was always going to be a magic nerd. She rocked back on her heels. "What you are sensing would be King Taranis, who is a dragon. He warded the place after a Fomorian mage firebombed it. Von refused to give up the location of a friend. The building burned down, and Taranis rebuilt it from scratch with the kind of wards you can't break with anything less than god-level power. They warn Von if someone with ill intentions towards him or the family enters the club."

Johan was at the door. He was the size of a bear, had the kindness of a Labrador, and after bouncing at Ritual for six years, had seen it all. His whole face lit up when he saw Linnea waiting. His eyes shifted to Fenris standing behind her, and he turned wary.