Sir—Nix, fucking hell—snorted a laugh at my boss, and it was pretty damn clear he wasn't falling for that line.
"Mik, you must think I've gone senile. I'm not that old." Nix loosened his tie, undoing the knot then rolling it around his fist a few times before pocketing it. "I'm certainly still young enough to kill your pet kitsune and get away before you can take my head."
Mikhail didn't fuck around with insults or name calling. He moved faster than the eye could follow, slamming into Nix with the force of a hurricane and throwing him into the wall so hard that it cracked the brick.
The two men fell to the ground as I made a split-second decision.
Stand by Mik … or stay out of this fight.
But Nix was my target, and Mikhail was my boss.
The choice was easy.
Moving toward the pair of men, I was surprised when Mikhail stumbled to his feet and put his hand out, slamming his palm into my chest and knocking me to my ass next to my discarded bag. Ziff poked his head out with a scream of rage and clawed his way up my arm to cling to my shoulder.
"Stand down, Thea," Mik shouted at me, chest heaving, a bit of blood leaking down the side of his face. His sapphire blue eyes flicked from me and back to Nix, just in time to see the other man rise to his feet and lunge forward with an impressive amount of speed and strength—even compared to my vampire boss.
"Stand down, my ass," I snarled as I shoved to my feet and put a hand on Ziff's back. All vulpes—that is, foxes—had a little bit of magic in them, even ones that weren't shifters. I might not have any magic, but Ziff did. To be fair, what he had was like a raindrop in the ocean of my own magic, but even a dribble of vulpine power was enough to pull off a trick.
Mikhail and Nix tumbled across the gravel and garbage strewn alley, clawing at one another like animals. There was something … off about the way Mik was fighting. I'd sparred with him enough times—seen him in action almost as much—and it was like he was handicapping himself.
He doesn't want Nix dead.
That thought was like a punch in the throat. Why would I be assigned Nix Locklear as a target if he wasn't meant to die?
The two men broke apart, spattering blood across the pavement, across my bare toes. I had no idea whose blood it was, but they were both covered in it. Crimson streaks dripped from the edge of Mik's ebony hairline, and sluiced tantalizingly between Nix's lips. The man in question flicked his eyes over to mine and then slowly, carefully licked some of the crimson from his mouth.
"Do you like the show, sweetheart?" he asked in the most condescending tone imaginable and using the rudest fucking nickname known to man. Nix Locklear rose to his feet, still handsome and impeccably dressed in his suit and tie. Even the blood and dirt couldn't subtract from his elegant manner.
"Thea, go." Mikhail was panting hard now, his gaze focused on a man that was supposed to be our combined enemy. And yet, Mik was holding back. The men were fairly evenly matched, so any self-imposed handicap was a big goddamn deal.
"No stay, Thea," Nix purred, reaching up and unhooking the silver chain that kept his ratty fur cloak in place. With a flash of fang and a grin, Nix threw the skin over his head and I watched in abject fascination as it bound itself to his flesh.
When a shifter changed forms, it was like watching a goddess play with a ball of clay—only in fast forward. We were reshaped and molded from what we had, like water being poured from one container to another. This was … different.
I'd never seen a skinwalker change in my entire life, and after this, I wasn't sure that I wanted to ever again.
Nix screamed this strange sound that was part animal, part human … part pain, part pleasure. Light exploded from the underside of the fur as it clung to his body and sealed against his flesh, pulling and stretching his face. It was as if the fur was a living thing, one that was skinning Mr. Locklear like an orange.
Pale human flesh pulled back, flashing muscle and bone underneath as Nix dropped to all fours. He looked vulnerable as hell, the perfect chance to strike. And yet, Mik wasn't making any move to approach him.
"Don't go near him," he growled at me, suddenly standing by my side, his lip curled into a snarl, hands in tight fists. Mik looked like he wanted to punch me about as much as he wanted to strangle Nix.
"You're trying not to hurt him," I said as Nix's body was eaten alive by the ratty fur. It was one of the most fascinating—and most disturbing—things I'd ever seen. "Why?"
"If you answered your damn phone, maybe you'd know the answer to that question!" he roared at me, all six foot five of his massive form … towering over me. And yeah, not in a good context at all. He smelled like copper, like blood, and his pupils were rapidly dilating. I'd never been worried about Mik losing control before. I was worrying a little bit about that right now.
I kept my hand locked on Ziff, just in case.
With a howl, the red-brown creature lying in a lump on the pavement stood up and shook itself out, its now glossy pelt rippling in slanting orange beams of light from the street lamps. The coyote turned its head to look at us, a dog-like smile curving its lips. A massive male coyote typically tops out at around fifty pounds. This one … was bigger than a wolf, probably closer to two hundred pounds.
A supernatural breeze swirled through the alley, shifting leaves and bits of trash. Ziff's hackles went up and he let out a scream as the coyote—aka Nix—summoned a circle of protection around himself, the strange runes lit up with gold. Most shifters relied on the moon for their magic and our power manifested itself as silver.
This was completely foreign to me.
"Don't make me tell you to go home again," Mik growled, pushing me out of the way as Nix lunged, bringing his magic with him. It swept over me like sunshine, almost unbearably hot but not entirely unpleasant.
I stumbled back into a dumpster, taking Ziff with me, and watched as Mik met the edge of Nix's circle of protection with two open palms. Vamp magic was anathema to shifter magic, death to life and all that. But I had no idea what the fuck a skinwalker qualified as or where their power came from.
Energy crackled between the two men for a moment before Nix abruptly dropped his barrier and used brute force instead, smashing into Mik and taking them both out of the alley and into the street.
Fucking great.
Public relations between supes and humans were bad enough.
A bloody fight between a skinwalker and a vampire on a Tuesday night in the middle of downtown Denver? Fab.
"Men," I told Ziff as I stepped out after the two assholes and paused.
The sharp earthy scent of a foreign kitsune was one I wouldn't fail to recognize, not even in the middle of a garbage dump. Didn't matter how many competing smells there were, I'd be able to single out another of my kind.
Especially if I'd never met them before.
"Exactly right," the newcomer purred as I turned to look at … her.
No doubt in my mind that this was Revel Jones, the vixen I'd found on the online dating site.
My mouth dropped open and a surge of … fucking something went through me at the sight of her. It wasn't sure if it was jealousy or envy or what. But all of these feelings swept over me like a tsunami when I saw her standing there, leaning back against the wall of a nearby building with bloodred hair and eyes as sharp and bright as fresh-cut grass.
She smelled like oak and pine, and her smile was as cruel as Nix's, only with a different heat level. He was cold as ice. This bitch, she was on fire.
"There's always been one universal trigger, responsible for most problems in the world," she told me as she stood up and Ziff made this strange chirping sound in the back of his throat. It was a happy sound, despite the blood and magic and bullshit happening not six feet in front of us. "And do you know what that universal trigger is?" Revel asked, tossing gleaming ruby red waves of hair over one shoulder.
She was pretty.
Beyond pretty.