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“Okay-ish.” He pulled me in for a quick, one-armed hug. “I’m sorry to drag you out here the second you got back. We were on our nightly demon sweep, but this time there were a lot more demons. It was going to be a bloodbath, but this guy showed up. Saved our asses and then asked to talk to you. He wanted me to put in a good word for him. I guess he thought you’d blow him off without it. Anyway, guy saved our butts. So, would you mind talking with him?” The way Adrian was asking, thick with unspoken apology, made me wonder what the other shoe was and when exactly it was going to drop.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“The only thing is…he kind of knows things.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. “What do you mean? Like he can read minds.”
“Yeah. I think?” He crossed his arms. “He says that he’s got a beef with Astaroth, and—”
“Wait. Who’s Astaroth?” This conversation was getting frustrating. It felt like Adrian was burying the lead.
Adrian shrugged. “Apparently, a demon none of us ever want to meet, but this guy said you met Astaroth last night. I figured that was why you pulled all that power through the packs?”
“It is.” The demon in the black abyss. Astaroth. His name felt right, somewhere deep in my gut.
If we could trust this guy, then I was about to be a step ahead. Or at the very least, not so many steps behind.
Before I could think too hard about what I was doing, I quickly followed the trail of sulfur deeper into the woods. When I saw a group of people standing around, I paused.
The earth was scorched in spots all over the small clearing between the trees. Each spot marked a demon killed. Broken branches and debris littered the dirt. I was almost sorry to have missed the fight. Actually getting to fight an opponent, instead of getting magically and psychically attacked, would’ve been a nice reprieve.
A few Cazadores were off to the side, talking quietly amongst themselves. They looked like they’d been through it. Blood dripped down one Cazadores’ arm. He was going to need some holy water. Fast.
Five more Cazadores were standing around a guy who was leaning against a tree. None of them were saying anything. But the Cazadores—all in their black sweats—were giving the man some serious side-eye.
I stepped forward, and the Cazadores who’d been talking came over to us. Dastien spoke to them but I tuned them out. My focus was on the guy in a white V-neck, leaning lazily against the tree. His relaxed stance gave off the impression that he wasn’t intimidated at all being surrounded by a group of Weres. He looked to be maybe in his mid-twenties, but I couldn’t assume anything. Donovan looked about twenty-five, and I knew he was much older than that.
Coming here, I didn’t know what to expect. We’d rushed over here so quickly, I hadn’t really thought it through, but I didn’t expect him. The man was beautiful. Like stepped-out-of-a-magazine beautiful. His long, white-blond hair brushed his shoulders. His brows were dark and furrowed. Deep-set pale blue eyes caught the moonlight, glowing just enough to hint at his supernatural nature, but his face was soft. Sweet. Almost cherubic.
He wore relaxed fit, light washed jeans, and his white shirt didn’t have a speck of blood on it. Even after saving Adrian and the others from a horde of demons.
If we were anywhere else I would’ve thought he was just a pretty face or a model, but something was seriously off with him. Why was he so freaking handsome? And where the hell were his shoes?
As if he could read that thought, a smirk spread across his face.
I wasn’t sure if he was reading my mind like Adrian suggested or just something in my expression, but either way, I built up my mental barrier and tried to school my features into a calm mask. “You wanted to talk to me?”
He stepped toward me, and I could feel Dastien’s heat as he came to stand right behind me.
“I’m not going to hurt her.” The man’s voice sent tingles down my spine.
The Cazadores stepped back, giving us room. Clearly they trusted him, but my mate was having the opposite reaction.
What did he just do to you? Dastien said, but his words barely registered.
I don’t know, but there’s something magical about his voice. “What are you?” I asked. It came off as rude, but I didn’t mean it that way. I had to know what—or who—I was dealing with. Especially if he was using magic on me.
“A friend.”
“If we’re going to be friends, then I need to know—what are you?”
“You werewolves are always big on scent. Come closer.” He held out his arm. “Take a good whiff. Let’s see if you can make a guess.”
I started to step toward him, but Dastien grabbed my wrist. No.
I’ll be fine. The words came out before I could think too much about it. My wrist slipped from Dastien’s hold as I stepped toward him, closed my eyes, and breathed in.
He smelled like earth and sun and the grass smelled on a hot summer day. And jasmine. The scent of jasmine grew and grew until it overpowered all the sulfur that lingered from the earlier demon battle. When I opened my eyes, it was all I could smell. “Are you fey?”
