“WE HAVE TO LEAV E,” I GROWLED.
Saiman shrugged with elegant nonchalance. “You worry too much.”
Twenty minutes had passed since the People and the Pack Council had gone into their private room and I couldn’t for the life of me pry Saiman free. He kept drinking. Before he’d drunk to build up his courage, now he was drinking to commemorate surviving the ordeal.
Saiman lived in the bubble of his own egocentrism. Nothing was more important to him than money and influence. Breaking the rules of Atlanta’s elite would cost the offender both. No strong emotion disturbed or troubled Saiman enough to make him break the rules. He simply couldn’t comprehend that Curran would sacrifice everything for a chance to sink his claws into Saiman’s throat.
More, Curran was obligated to violence. Saiman had delivered a colossal insult in front of Pack members. Right now Curran sat in that private room, fantasizing about redecorating the dining room with garlands of Saiman’s guts. Sooner or later, he’d come out and I didn’t trust myself to keep Saiman safe.
I wanted a confrontation. I wanted to break the bottle over Curran’s head. But once we started at it, I’d forget Saiman was even there. I would be so intent on hurting Curran, I’d become oblivious to all else. There was a reason why the first rule of bodyguard detail said, “Know where your ‘body’ is at all times.” The moment you lost sight of the body you were protecting, he became vulnerable. Curran was a lethal bastard. I couldn’t afford to risk Saiman’s safety.
I tried reasoning. I tried threats. Saiman remained rooted to his chair, hell-bent on ensuring I ended the night cradling his corpse. Leaving him and walking out, hoping he’d follow me, was out of the question. For all I knew, Curran would burst out of that room the moment I stepped out of sight. And Saiman was too heavy for me to carry him out. Of all the times not to have supernatural strength. If I had Andrea’s strength, I’d sling him over my shoulder and drag his ass out.
Jim strolled out of the private room and headed our way. He moved with casual grace, just a friendly tough guy on the prowl. People discreetly shrank from him. It’s hard to shrink when you’re sitting down, but they managed.
He stopped by our table and stared at Saiman. Jim’s voice was melodiously smooth and he spoke softly, but his words dripped malice. “If you leave now, alone, the Beast Lord will grant you safe passage.”
Saiman laughed, a quiet humorless sound. “I hardly need his assurances. I’m very much enjoying my date, and I plan to enjoy the rest of my night in Kate’s company.”
Jim leaned to me, pronouncing the words with crisp exactness. “Do you require assistance?”
Yes. Yes, I do. Please whack the dimwit next to me upside his head, knock him out, and help me carry him out of here. I unclenched my teeth. “No.”
A triumphant smile played on Saiman’s lips. Just one sucker punch and he’d be picking his teeth out of that perfect hair.
Jim leaned closer. “If you want to leave without him, I’ll make it happen.” A green sheen rolled over his eyes.
“I’m obligated to stay with him for the evening. But I appreciate the offer.”
Jim nodded and withdrew.
If fury generated heat, I’d be boiled from inside out. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I scraped together what little feminine wiles I had left and touched Saiman’s hand. “Saiman, please let’s go. As a favor to me.”
He paused with a glass halfway to his mouth. “I’m looking forward to tormenting him a bit more, once he emerges.”
Idiot, idiot, idiot. “You’ve made your point already and I’m tired and stressed out. I just want to go and have a cup of coffee in my kitchen.”
His mind took a moment to work through the alcohol daze. He arched his eyebrows. “Are you inviting me for a private cup of coffee at your place?”
“Yes.” I’d give him a cup of coffee and a big helping of a knuckle sandwich. Generosity was a virtue and I was in the mood to be extremely virtuous.
Saiman made an exaggerated sigh. “I recognize it’s a bribe, but I would be a fool to decline.”
“You would.”
He paid the bill. With luck, the People and the Pack would remain cloistered for a little while longer.
We started down the staircase. I watched him like a hawk, expecting him to trip on the stairs, but he managed to descend with his usual elegance. Outwardly he showed no signs of inebriation. He didn’t stumble and his speech didn’t slur, which worked against him. Curran might be able to forgive a drunken man but not a sober one.
Outside, snow fell from the black sky, hiding the ground in a soft white blanket. Saiman raised his hand, and snowflakes swirled to his skin, trailing his fingers.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Very pretty.” I steered him to the vehicle.
We finally negotiated the parking lot. Saiman snapped his fingers, pulling the keys out of thin air.
“You shouldn’t drive,” I told him.
“On the contrary, I should.”
A normal human would be dead of alcohol poisoning by now. He wanted to drive. “Give me the keys.”
He considered it and dangled the keys before me. “What do I get if I let you drive?”
I felt the weight of someone’s gaze, as if a sniper had sighted my back through a rifle scope. I turned. The building loomed about thirty yards away. The double glass doors leading to the balcony swung open, and Curran walked out.
“What do I get if I let you drive, Kate?”
I grabbed the keys from his hand. “To live! Get into the car.”
“Now, now . . .”
I snapped the locks open, jerked the passenger door ajar, and shoved him into the seat.
Curran’s eyes glowed with gold. He shrugged off his leather jacket, grabbed the neck of his turtleneck with both hands, and ripped it in half.
I dived into the car and floored the gas pedal.
In the rearview mirror Curran tore apart his pants. His flesh boiled, and a monster spilled forth.
“What’s the rush?” Saiman wondered.
“Look back.”
The man was gone. In his place stood a beast, dark gray and corded with muscle. I caught a glimpse of huge fangs on a face neither lion nor human, and then he leapt off the balcony onto the neighboring roof.
“He’s chasing us.” Saiman stared through the rear window. “He’s actually chasing us!”
He’s chasing you. He wouldn’t hurt me. “Well, what did you expect?”
Shock stamped Saiman’s face. “He’s abandoned all pretenses at humanity.”
I took a sharp corner. The tires skidded. The vehicle slid, brushing a snowdrift. I wrestled with the wheel, righting the car, and we hurtled down the street.
Curran appeared above the building behind us. He sailed through the night sky like he had wings and landed on the shingles. The moonlight clutched at his shaggy mane. He took a running start, cleared another gap between the buildings, and followed us, bounding from roof to roof in great leaps.
I tried to speak clearly, hoping it would penetrate the fog of Saiman’s brain. “We go to my place. I get out. You get behind the wheel and drive as fast as you can. It’s your only chance.” And my only chance to settle all that ailed me without outside interference.
Saiman didn’t answer. Flesh flowed on his face and hands, changing into a new shape and instantly shifting into another, as if his body had gone liquid.
“What are you doing?”
“Burning off the alcohol.” He glanced back. “He’s still there!”
“Help me navigate. I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Take the next left. You’ll see a bridge. Go up.”
I made the turn, praying the tech would hold. If the magic hit us, we’d be in deep shit.