CHAPTER TWENTY
THANE AND HIS BOYS SPENT the rest of the day searching for Jamila’s spirit, and when that proved unfruitful, hunting for the prison where her body had been kept, determined to burn it to the ground. But Burden had hidden it well, for they found no sign of the building in the heavens or on earth.
The need to save what was left of her rode Thane hard, as did fury and a feeling of helplessness. Every minute spent in a demon’s care damaged your spirit, soul and body, and he hated that Jamila had died without a single ray of hope.
He hadn’t worked with her long, but he had liked her, and had admired her strength. Had she lived to be freed, the experience would have changed her and not for the better, but he could find no solace in that.
Zacharel blamed the high lord pulling Burden’s strings, and was on his way to speak with someone who might know exactly who that high lord was. For now, there was nothing else Thane could do. He needed a distraction.
He needed a new lover.
He prowled The Downfall’s main room. He saw warriors and joy-bringers mingling, drinking and laughing. Not everything was fun and games, though. In shadowed corners, vampires drank from willing victims. A few Harpies occupied spots at the bar. A Phoenix shifter who resembled the one he’d already had gyrated on the dance floor, even crooked her finger at him, but he ignored her. His Phoenix hadn’t recovered from their passions yet, and he would have her rather than one of her kin. If he took another, he would not be allowed to touch the first, no matter how much he paid.
The Phoenix were that possessive—and that selfish with others of their race—so until she was ready for him, he would try another type of creature.
Several other females summoned him over, but he ignored them, too. Tonight he wanted someone who would overwhelm his senses and make him forget his failures of the day. He wanted something different from the others he’d had.
He found that someone locked in a conversation with a male siren. Thane closed the distance and simply towered beside their table, waiting to be noticed. Only took a few seconds for the male to glance up.
“Excuse— Oh, Thane,” the siren said, his voice as lovely as a symphony. “Is something wrong?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s taken for the evening. You may find someone else.”
“But—” Again the siren caught himself. He glanced behind Thane to the guards leaving their posts at the walls to flank his sides. Even if the male knew Thane could not kill him without consequences, the same could not be said about the guards.
“You’re right. I will.”
The chair squeaked over the tiled floor as the siren straightened and moved away, careful not to brush against Thane.
Thane easily slid into place.
Cario, a woman of questionable origins who had frequented his club quite often lately, glared over at him. Thane kept tabs on all the regulars.
“I liked him,” she said.
When she had always left the club on her own? “He never stood a chance with you and you know it.”
Rather than melt under the charm of his voice, she scowled at him. “You can’t know that.”
“I know that you’ll like me better.”
“There’s no way you can know that, either.”
“Wait. I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer. That wasn’t a suggestion, but a command.”
Finally, the reaction he had craved. Slowly she grinned. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, the position a mimic of his earlier one. “Why would I like a man who refers to me as a woman of questionable origins?”
“I did not refer to you as such.”
“Not out loud, no, but in your mind.”