Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian #4)(39)

“No, you won’t fucking see me in the morning. Or any other morning.”
“Riley—”
“Fuck off.”
With little other recourse left, I spun and walked away. His gaze just about burned a hole in my back, but I didn’t look around. I strode up the street, around the corner, and across the road. I didn’t see the car, only heard the screech of tires as the driver swung to avoid me. A beer-fueled male hung out the passenger window and made several crude comments.
I swore at him too, then shifted to my wolf shape. I wasn’t in the mood for male attention of any kind right now—which just went to show the depths of my fury. The moon was riding high and the fever should have had some influence over my reaction to the comments and the man.
I walked on, wishing I’d parked closer. My nails clicked on the concrete, a soft tattoo that echoed in time with the anger beating through my veins. Which is probably why it took me several more minutes to realize the compulsion to go home was nowhere near as strong as it had been.
I stopped.
Go home, go home, go home. The words were still a mantra in my brain, looping round and round. And yet, like the moon hunger, it was a compulsion that I suddenly seemed able to push into the background and ignore. Why?
I shifted back to human shape. The force of the compulsion jumped back into focus, as strong and as sharp as the moon fever spinning through my veins. My feet moved forward without any real command on my part, padding along the pavement at a decent clip. Shifting back into wolf form seemed to once again ease both compulsions.
Well, well, well.
No one had ever told me that being in wolf shape would ease the fever, but in some ways, it made sense. Werewolves didn’t make love while holding wolf form—at the very least, it was considered disrespectful, often an act of degradation, and, at the very worst, an act of rape. If you respected your partner, you just didn’t mate in animal form. It was one of those unwritten rules every wolf, young or old, knew.
Besides, what sane werewolf really wanted to ease the moon fever in any other way besides the time-honored, human-style method of mating?
But how many people knew the force of a vampire’s compulsion could actually be muted by changing body form? Quinn’s order to go home had been embedded deep into my human brain, but wearing my wolf skin seemed to somehow transmute that order into something that could be, if not totally squashed, then at least ignored. 
Which was a very handy thing to know—not that it would matter anymore when it came to Quinn. He was out of my life, whether he believed it yet or not.
The thought made me swear internally. At him, at my job, at fate in general. Dammit, why couldn’t anything go smoothly?
There were a lot of things I could put up with in a relationship—hell, I’d proven that by putting up with an arrogant, self-centered asshole like Talon for so long. Quinn could be that, and a whole lot more at times, but he could also be an amazingly caring and gentle man, and so totally fun to be with. We were good together, at least when he wasn’t being an ass.
But the one thing I’ve never liked is partners who tried to use force to make me do what they wanted. It was simply unacceptable.
And that’s the line Quinn had crossed tonight, even if he’d used psychic strength rather than physical strength.
It’s not as if he didn’t know how I felt. I’d warned him more than once. Now I had to back those words up with action. Had to. If I didn’t, he’d just ride roughshod over my entire life. Give a vamp an inch, and he’d sure as hell try to take a mile, and Quinn had proven that adage true time and again.
God, why did he have to force the issue? Why couldn’t he have just let me do my job, whether or not it was safe? Life itself was unsafe—death could hit anytime, anyplace. Wrapping me in cotton wool was never going to work, no matter what he thought. I wasn’t the type of girl who enjoyed being pampered and fussed over twenty-four hours a day. I could never be that type of girl, even if I wasn’t now a guardian. And if that’s what he wanted in a relationship, then he was chasing the wrong bit of tail.
And speaking of chasing, this bit of tail had a job to do.
Ignoring the pang of sadness, and the deeper, darker ache that seemed centered somewhere close to my heart, I turned around and loped back toward Jin’s house.
Quinn had moved from Jin’s doorway and taken up residence in the shadows of a garden several houses down. I padded along on the opposite side of the street, keeping close to the cars parked along the curb, using the metal and the shadows to help hide my form. Not that I really thought he’d see me—he was watching for evil, not for a wolf. Besides, I very much doubted the possibility that I could shake his compulsion would even cross his mind.
When I was close to Jin’s house, I positioned myself between two cars, keeping low and deep in the shadows, and waited. There wasn’t much traffic at this hour, but the night was far from quiet. People moved in the house behind me, flushing toilets and turning lights on and off. Laughter drifted on the night air, and somewhere in the distance music heavy in bass played, making me want to tap my paws.
Quinn didn’t move. Neither did I.
Time ticked by. The moon reached its zenith and began to wane. I crossed my front legs and shifted my rear ones, trying to find a comfortable position. The cold, hard pavement wasn’t helping the aches any.
It had to be nearing three when a car finally pulled to a stop in front of Jin’s house. It wasn’t Jin—the legs that appeared underneath the car door as it opened were decidedly feminine, as was the flowery scent that spun through the air.
The car door slammed shut, revealing a short blonde wearing four-inch heels, rolled-up jeans, and a purple crop top. She was a little on the overweight side, but absolutely stunning to look at. Her keys jangled loudly and silver flashed, drawing my gaze. Two letters hung from the ring—MF. Short for Maisie Foster? If it was, she wasn’t the least what I expected a mage to look like.She made her way through Jin’s gate and up the steps. I glanced at the house where Quinn hid, and felt shock ripple through me.
He was gone.
Completely gone.
And yet I’d seen or heard no movement and his car was still parked up the road.
How could he leave without me catching some hint of it? He may have vampire speed, but even if he’d moved faster than a speeding bullet, I still should have caught some hint of it. Should have seen the disappearing flare of his life force.
Frowning, I scanned the area with infrared, looking for some sign of him. Why would he wait all this time for Maisie, then run off? It made no sense at all.
Then I caught the familiar scent of sandalwood and masculinity in the air. Quinn’s scent.
He was still here, even if I couldn’t see him.
I raised my nose, drawing in the scent, trying to find direction. It was coming from high above me. Not from the rooftops, but from the sky itself.
My gaze went to the night and the stars, but there was nothing to be seen beyond the gathering clouds and the brightly shining moon.
What the hell was going on? Vampires couldn’t fly—not unless they were bird-shifters in their pre-vampire life, anyway. And whatever else he was, Quinn wasn’t a shifter. Of that, I was sure.
Then something he’d said a few months ago came back to me. I’d asked him how he’d gotten into Starr’s compound without Rhoan or anyone else seeing him, and he’d said, I simply ceased to exist in any term the human mind recognizes.
Shame he’d forgotten to mention the same damn talent allowed him to fly.
My gaze went back to Maisie. She’d reached the front door and was searching through her bag. Obviously, she didn’t keep her door keys on the same tag as her car keys. For a powerful mage, she was kinda dumb.
Quinn’s scent sharpened, and I had a sudden sense of movement through the air, though there was still nothing to be seen.
At the last possible moment, Maisie seemed to sense the same thing, because she swung around and gasped. A hand formed out of thin air, chopping down hard. Maisie dropped to the steps like a stone.
Quinn’s form seemed to merge from the night as he drifted down the steps, landing neatly and lightly next to Maisie’s body. He studied her for a moment, then looked around, his gaze skimming past my hidey-hole with nary a pause of concern. Then he bent, picked Maisie up, and walked down the steps toward his car. He placed her in the passenger seat, then climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and zoomed off. I watched the car disappear, then backed out of my hiding spot and shifted shape. The compulsion and the moon heat leapt into focus, but one was now stronger than the other.
Maybe shifting into wolf shape several times had finally muted the strength of Quinn’s order. Which was good, because I needed to go to the club and do some serious ache-easing. 
As my steps echoed across the still night, I pressed the com-link in my ear and said, “Hello, hello, anyone tuned in?”
“I’m always tuned-in, unlike some former liaisons who shall go unmentioned.”
Oh joy. The caramel cow. “And a good evening to you, too, Sal.”
“What do you want, Riley?”
Pleasantry, which I was never going to get talking to her. But I guess I wasn’t overly generous with it myself, so I was hardly in a position to bitch.
Which had never stopped me before.
“Jack around anywhere?”
“One moment, please.”