He ignored his pursuer. In flight, he was the one who was faster, his powerful body streamlined for slicing through the air. He was also the creator of the storm. It fulminated around him while hurricane-force winds buffeted the one who fought to follow. The storm blew that one behind.
The predator was one of the world’s best trackers. Locating his prey was child’s play. She was too innocent. She had not known to hide from him. As he fell to earth, he changed to wear his human skin, but the beast that raged inside him was far older and much more dangerous than a human being. His clothing, absorbed when he took his Wyr form, settled into place again on his body.
He slammed open the doors of the Big Red bar and stalked inside.
The predator paused for a heartbeat as human sights, sounds and smells assaulted him. Laughter, music, liquor and food. Perfume, perspiration and aftershave. He ignored the fragile humans. He noted the location of the real possible threats, the harpy and the Vampyre. They leaned against one end of the bar while they talked and watched a crowded dance floor, their alert, watchful, roaming gazes belying their bodies’ casual posture.
Then he caught sight of her, his prey, on the packed dance floor and she was—
He gave his head a sharp, disbelieving shake. The beast inside him roared.
She was a small, exquisitely boned, deliciously curved, raven-haired beauty who shimmered with so much molten light as she danced, she looked like she was a creature made of sunlight and lightning. Enormous gray eyes glittered under sultry lids, and her soft, glistening lips were painted the intoxicating color of poppies. Her slender, curved white legs with those narrow delicate knees were naked, and her tiny feet arched in four-inch fuck-me silver high-heeled shoes. She was a teacup temptress, undulating in that silvery light slip of scandalous something that she wore—
Dress, it was a dress—
That depraved piece of skintight luminescence wasn’t a dress. It was a heart attack waiting to happen. It was covered with so many tiny, sparkly silver dangling sequins, and it was so low in the neck and so high in the hem, it barely covered her nipples and her sweet little round ass. With every graceful flirtatious dance move she made, the neckline and the hem hovered on the edge of unveiling the treasures they were intended to guard.
And didn’t every red-blooded male in the building know it. The room reeked of sexual interest. Hot interested males from all over the room watched as she danced, undressing her with their eyes. He growled low in his throat.
Mine.
The predator bared his teeth and promised them all murder as he advanced across the room.
Normally Niniane loved to go out. But tonight, no matter how she threw herself into the effort, she couldn’t relax and enjoy the moment.
The whole thing started when Aubrey and Kellen stepped out on the patio to protest the harpy’s presence. Heaven only knew where Arethusa had gone, or Niniane had no doubt the Commander would have joined them. Then Carling had strolled out to take a seat at the table, listening without comment to the argument.
Not that it was much of an argument for long. Niniane told them all, “I know that Dragos and his sentinels had nothing to do with the attack.”
Deep lines bracketed Kellen’s mouth. They scored his face from fine-molded nostrils to the sides of his mouth, evidencing his displeasure. He said, “Your highness, please.”
“Try not to be more of an idiot than you can help,” Aryal told him. The Justice glared at her, his expression full of offense. The harpy clicked her tongue at him, looking remarkably avian despite being in her human form.
Niniane swallowed a bubble of hysterical laughter. Carling met her gaze. “Never send a harpy on a mission of diplomacy,” the Vampyre murmured. “Are you sure about this?”
“I have examined the facts, and yes, I am sure,” she replied in a firm voice. She looked hard at Aubrey and Kellen to make sure they heard her.
Aryal turned to Carling in a sudden movement. “The Wyr have the right to investigate what happened,” the harpy said. “If there are other Wyr involved, we are responsible for bringing them to justice.”
The warm breeze ruffled the hem of Carling’s caftan, the plain cotton rippling around her bare feet. Carling’s perfect face remained impassive, her gaze on Niniane.
Niniane looked from Carling to Aryal then to the two Dark Fae males. Both Aubrey and Kellen frowned at her, their gazes intent.
You should be careful where you step, Niniane.
You’re in a fragile place.
Her back muscles were rigid from the tension she would not let show in her face. She would not deny her friends, but if she was not careful, she could also alienate two Powerful government officials and much-needed Dark Fae allies.
A heavy fullness pressed at the back of her throat. It tasted a little like grief. She said to the two males, “The Wyr have been friends of the Dark Fae before. They are my good friends now. You must accept this.”