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Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian #4)(40)

By:Keri Arthur

The sound of heels clicking came through the earpiece, meaning Jack was somewhere other than his desk. “Riley?” he said, after a moment. “Did you take care of our mage?”
“Not exactly.”
“What happened?”
“Quinn happened.” And just mentioning his name had the barely settled anger rising again.
Jack sighed. “What’s he done this time?”
“He’s just kidnapped our little mage.”
“What?”
“Yeah. We did foul the pentagram through which she was calling the demons, which according to him was better than destroying it, because it will force her to expend more energy making a new one.”
“In dark spells, it’s usually the magician’s blood that fuels the summoning. Fouling it won’t actually stop her using it; it’ll just prevent her from calling through certain types of entities.”
“Meaning I should have destroyed it?” That Quinn had spun yet another lie?
“She would have sensed the destruction. It might have driven her—and the rest of them—underground.” He paused, and the sound of liquid hissing into a cup came down the line. He was either in the day-shift operations room or the foyer, where the other coffee machine was situated. “What happened after that? How come Quinn kidnapped the mage and why aren’t you with him?”
“Because the bastard pulled his vampire wiles on me—embedded an order to go home while our telepathic line was open.”
“Game man. Has he still got his balls?”
I grinned, and very much suspected there was nothing pleasant about it. Amusement wasn’t high on my list of emotions right now. “For the moment. I did make an interesting discovery in the process of going home, though—becoming a wolf actually transmutes the compulsion.”
“Does it? That’s interesting.”
“Yeah. Once I’d discovered that, I naturally headed back to see what Quinn was up to. That’s when I discovered he could not only make himself totally invisible to all senses except scent, but that he could also fly.”
“What?”
“Well, I’m not actually sure if he was flying. I couldn’t see wings or anything. He seemed to be more drifting.”
“Even very old vampires cannot fly.”
“But before he was vampire, he was half-human and half something else,” I corrected. “And that other half is something that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Only birds—or bird-shifters—fly.”
“So do gryphons. So do a hundred other things that can’t be classified as birds.”
“None of which Quinn is.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Then you know what he is?”
“Nope. I only know what I’ve been told.”
By his sister, no doubt, who was the next one up the vampire ladder from Quinn. Which, in itself, was a mystery waiting to be solved, because Jack was a whole lot younger in vampire terms than Quinn and his sister. “Quinn’s driving a black Porsche.” I gave him the license plate number, then added, “He’s got GPS in the car—don’t suppose you can plug into the satellite and backtrack to see where he is going?”“It’ll take a bit of time to find his car-code and then track him, but we can try.”
“And in the meantime, what do you want me to do?”
“Any word from Jin?”
“No.” Of course, it was hard to get word when I had the phone off. But I wasn’t about to mention that because Jack would kill me.
“Any chance that you could get an invite to their dinner party tomorrow night?”
Who’d have guessed that was coming? “Can’t you get the infrared working?”
“No. He’s got some of the most sophisticated shielding in that house that I’ve ever come across. We can get their body heat and positioning, but we’re still only catching snippets of actual conversation.”
“I can try.” Turning on my phone would probably be a good start. Given the frustration burning down the telepathic line earlier, Jin was one needy little demon. And while he could go out and get himself another girl, he’d gained a taste for werewolf flesh. And it wasn’t a boast to say we did hard sex better than most humans, simply because we had the stamina.
“Then try. We need to get into that house and see what they’re up to.”
I blew out a breath, and hoped like hell that Jin had learned his lesson and started fucking like a normal psycho rather than an abnormal one.
Though, was there any such thing as an abnormal psycho?
“I’m heading to the Blue Moon, boss. Give me a call on the cell if you happen to track down Quinn.”
“Will do.”
I touched my ear once to turn off sound but not tracking, changed my clothes, then climbed into my car, and drove on to the club. As usual, there was a queue out the front, though given the full moon was still a few days off, it wasn’t all that bad. I walked past them and ignored the annoyed comments thrown my way. If they were stupid enough not to make a permanent table booking in a club as popular as this one, well, that was their problem, not mine.
Jimmy, the half-lion-shifter, half-human bouncer gave me a huge gold-toothed grin as he looked me up and down. “I like the dress, but the drying blood on your arms and legs is a bit of a worry.”
“You don’t think it’ll catch on as a fashion statement?” I paid my entrance fees and struck a pose.
He snorted softly. “No. You been in a fight again, girl?”
“Everyone knows there’s nothing like a good fight to get the hormones going.” I grinned and stood on my tippy-toes to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. “Anyone I know inside?”
“Kellen came through about half an hour ago looking for you.”
Ah, good. I was hoping he’d be here—it saved me the trouble of ringing him and inviting him down. Jimmy opened the door, and I scooted inside. The air was rich with the scent of lust and sex, and I breathed deep, allowing the atmosphere to soak through every pore, every muscle, every bone. The desire burning through my bloodstream leapt into renewed focus, and suddenly it was all I could do not to shuck off my dress, dump my bag, and go join the sweaty, passionate crowd pressed so close together on the dance floor. 
I loved this place. Always had. But in recent months, I hadn’t come here as often as normal, and standing here now, I had to wonder why. I mean, Quinn had made it patently obvious he didn’t like the werewolf lifestyle, didn’t like our free and easy attitude toward sex, despite the fact he was a benefactor of that attitude. And he hated me coming to the clubs when he was in town.
But it wasn’t until now that I realized just how much I’d curbed my wilder nature for him.
At least I wouldn’t have that trouble any longer. I could do who I wanted, when I wanted. I briefly raised my gaze, watching the hologram stars twinkle against the midnight-colored roof as I blinked away the sting of tears.
Damn him to hell, I thought, and headed down the steps. Closer to the dance floor, the sensual beat of the music was accompanied by grunts of pleasure and the slap of flesh against flesh. The fever in my blood rose to boiling point and my breath caught, then quickened. I wanted—needed—to get out there. To lose myself in the middle of that sweating, writhing crowd, to think about nothing more than sheer and utter pleasure.
Once again I resisted the temptation to just dump everything on a table, and walked instead into the changing rooms. After a quick shower to wash the sweat and blood from my skin, I finger-combed my damp hair, then shoved my clothes into the locker. Once I’d clipped the key onto a chain around my neck, I finally headed out.
The rich aromas of hunger and desire spun around me, a living thing that stole my breath and made the lowdown ache even fiercer. Despite this, I stopped, my gaze scanning the lusty crowd. The moon fever might burn, but tonight there was only one I wanted. Someone totally opposite to Quinn in every way imaginable. Someone who was warm and caring and, most important of all, dependable.
Someone who not only wanted me every bit as badly as Quinn, but who wanted me as I was, not as I could be if only I would allow myself to be that bit more malleable.
My gaze centered on the brown wolf dancing with several females on the far edge of the dance floor and anticipation zoomed through me.
I moved into the crowd, flirting, dancing, and teasing, enjoying the press of so much flesh but never stopping, my eyes always on the main prize.
He was dancing with several different females by the time I neared him, meaning he was merely cruising, waiting rather than participating. The thought had my hormones doing a happy little jig. I dropped a kiss on his shoulder blade and drew in his scent, so spicy and rich and male, then slid my hands around his waist and pressed my breasts against the heated flesh of his spine. As I echoed his dance moves, I skimmed my fingers down his abs, enjoying the tremor that ran through his muscles, feeling a sudden rush of power as he pressed back against me. Encouraging, demanding. My touch slid lower, caressing hair, then flesh. His penis was thick and hard, pulsing with desire. I caressed him, teased him, sliding my hands up and down his shaft as I slid my breasts up and down his back. His hunger flicked around me, a noose of heat that captured me, drowned me, making me hunger for him, making me ready for him.
I slid my hands to his hips, gently pulling him backward, guiding him deeper into the thick press of flesh, until the smell of sex was so powerful it was almost liquid, and space was at such a premium that it felt like a hundred different people were touching, pressing, caressing.