She cracked open her senses. Smells crested over her in waves. The fresh scent of shifters, the spice of vampires and the sharp, overly sweet stench of an odd magic user were all added to the mix. Every time a practitioner used their craft, a splash of magic skittered along Raven’s arms like she’d brushed against cobwebs.
The knot in her stomach clenched. She called it excitement, refusing to admit she could’ve made a mistake coming inside. The last time she’d been around this many people, it hadn’t gone well. At the slightest threat, her power took control and did whatever it had to in order to protect her.
The harsh reminder soothed her ragged emotions, and she shoved them into the vault from which they’d escaped. Emotions meant loss of control, meant someone would suffer. Closing her eyes, she searched every nook and cranny of her shields for cracks.
When she found none, the last of the knots holding her muscles hostage faded. No one would attack her here. No one would be able to break her shields and discover the horrible truth.
“In or out?”
“Excuse me?” Raven whirled, her gaze unerringly finding those of a man...no, a wolf in human form who stood a little over six feet. He towered over her by at least half a foot, forcing her to take a step back in order to meet his gaze without cricking her neck.
Damn touchy-feely shifters. They didn’t have any boundaries or understand the concept of personal space, especially between unclaimed men and women.
Fresh air clung to him, relaxing some of her initial surprise at finding him so close. Though handsome, there was something a little too masculine about him, a little too purposeful in his actions that left her unsettled. She resisted the urge to fidget, glad she took care to make herself as forgettable as possible. Dressed in black, her distinctive, silver-tipped hair pinned back like a prim schoolmarm, she little resembled the carefree, underdressed partygoers who frequented the place.
“I said are you going in or out?” Dark brows lowered in annoyance, and those deep brown eyes shone brightly in the hallway, revealing his animal nature. Power wrapped around him, barely leashed, rubbing against her. It didn’t hurt, though it wasn’t quite pleasant either. More of a brusque probe to find out if she was a threat. The taste of his magic revealed he had no interest in her.
She stepped aside to let him pass, refusing to shrink in front of him, taking care to ensure they didn’t touch. He didn’t seem to notice, not even sparing her a glance. He just grunted, gliding by on silent feet. The noise of the club rose as he entered the room beyond.
Raven pried open her clenched fingers, finding them reluctant to obey. Though she should be pleased, his dismissive attitude annoyed her. Despite having a very small portion of the shifter genetic make-up, her mind blared a warning that all males inside would have the same reaction. Like was attracted to like, and she most definitely was not one of them. Not really, despite all the tests conducted on her as a child. Tests the labs performed to find out how much control she had over the animal counterparts locked away at her core. A core that gave a low rumble at his easy dismissal.
“Don’t mind him. He can be an ass.”
Raven jerked at the masculine voice, surprised to find herself not alone. She’d shut herself down so hard she’d inadvertently blocked some of her senses. A costly mistake. Especially since her animals liked to come out to play when she shut out the very electricity she used to keep them at bay.
“My fault.” She pushed the words past her constricted throat. From now on, she would stick to business and shove the personal nonsense the girls always spouted into the garbage where it belonged. She could deal with her gift by herself like she had all her life. Plans were in place if the worst came to pass. “I should go.”
When she went to retreat, the boy, who had to be no more than eighteen, stepped in front of the exit, barring her way. “Don’t. Please.”
The tremble in his voice drew her attention. Instincts sharpened. Then she noticed the slave collar clamped around his throat.
The delicate threads of metal, a combination of silver and gold, marked him as a slave to the shifter community. Welts beaded on his skin where the silver encircled his neck, and she couldn’t prevent her lips from curling in disgust.
She understood the aching need to belong, but she couldn’t condone the process. How could a person permit another to use them just to earn a place in the pack?
“Why do you do it?” The question slipped out without thinking of the consequences.
No retaliation came. More surprising, he didn’t appear angered at her question. Pack always held their business close to their chest. Unless you were a fur-and-claw-carrying member of the club, you didn’t need to know.