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“Don’t worry.” I wasn’t stupid.
Taking another gulp for courage, I meandered through the crowd. Morgon men’s eyes followed me as I passed, none of them matching the description by Bennett Cremwell.
Raucous laughter and cat-calls from a table in the corner drew my attention. I set my beer on a round-top, meandering toward the throng. Shielded by the winged-backs of Morgon men and a few women, I couldn’t see what drew everyone’s attention at the center. Inching closer, I heard a feminine squeal of laughter.
A strong hand wrapped my forearm in a firm grip, a voice rough as rock spoke one word. A command. “No.”
A wall of heat at my back, I glanced over my shoulder at the tallest Morgon man I’d ever seen. I stepped away, pulling my arm free. He let me. He was hard in every way—demeanor, expression, posture, appearance. A cold slab of marble chiseled down into the statue-like physique of a dark, forbidding Morgon. He had a reddened scar slashing from above his left cheekbone to below his lip. His eyes were a midnight blue except for a pale ring circling the pupils. They seemed crafted by magic or some other supernatural force as they glinted blue-silver in the dark. No one needed to tell me his name. It left my lips without my consent. “Kol Moonring.”
Chapter Four
Dark hair fell in staggered waves to the nape of his neck and across his forehead. At six feet, I was accustomed to being eye level with most men, even Morgons. Not this one. He was the tallest I’d ever seen. He tilted his cleft chin down, taking me in. “You’re tall…for a human female.”
I straightened in my heeled-boots. “You’re observant…for a Morgon male.”
His eyes lighted on mine, no hint of a smile, but definitely a glint of surprise.
A trill of feminine laughter and masculine whistles erupted from the horde in the corner. I tried to walk around him, closer to the crowd. Without seeming to move, he stood in my path.
“What’s the problem? Are human women forbidden?”
“Not at all. You’re welcome to join them.” He shifted his weight to one side, still blocking my way. “If you like strangers licking salt from your body and sticking their tongues down your throat, go right ahead.”
Oh. Body shots.
“Just so you know, that group barely understands boundaries when they’re sober. And they’re nowhere near sober right now.”
Within the circle of raucous partiers, a Morgon man’s wings flared above the crowd, his actions hidden by the surrounding horde. His performance earned him a roar of cheers.
“Lorian asked me to keep you out of harm’s way.” He nodded in the direction of the rowdy bunch behind him. “That’s harm’s way.”
I crossed my arms, deciding whether to see for myself or to follow his advice. As much as I hated to submit, my quarry would probably not be among the party-hard heathens in the corner. “I think I’ll skip body shots tonight.”
His gaze flicked to my chest. Crossed arms under a corset pushed my full breasts to new heights. I quickly uncrossed them, nearly earning me a full smile from Mr. Wall-o-Morgon. “Do you think any of that group was responsible for the victims?”
The hard planes of his face fixed into adamant, as if sculpted in ice. His jaw clenched. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
One brow arched. “Quite.”
A clamor of noise came from the entrance. The bare-chested players flooded into the cellar, their groupies trailing behind them. I watched Conn and the friend of his join Kraven to one side. One player from each team bee-lined for the cage to the whooping cheers of their fans.
“What’s going on?”
Kol was a shield behind me. Though not touching, I could feel the heat of him pressing along the lines of my shoulders and down my back as I watched the scene unfolding across the room. His proximity put me on edge. Uncomfortably so.
“The main event.” His voice had dropped low and deep, his breath brushing my hair.
Never one to let a man ruffle me, I eased a step forward. “I should go. Thanks for the warning about, uh, them.” I gestured to the crowd behind us just as they surged toward the Pit en masse. Kol didn’t move, effectively blocking me, as they stumbled past in a rough cluster.
“Moira! Hey, girl.” Someone tugged my arm. “What are you doing here?”
Surprised, I spun to find an unexpected acquaintance. “Layla? What are you doing here?”
Layla was a student who worked at the reception desk in the Liberal Arts building, the same which housed The Herald offices. Usually meek and mild at work, I never expected to see someone like her in a place like this.
“Having fun.” She winked. By her short skirt and low-cut top, she was out for more than fun. “I didn’t think you ever came out of that office. Look at you, all hot and spicy.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me with her. “Come on.”
