Lover Mine(187)

They found the black Mercedes AMG parked in front of a fire hydrant. The sedan stank of lesser, and as Xhex looked around as if searching for the next directive, John wasn't in the mood to wait.

He curled up a fist and punched out the front windshield.

The alarm went apeshit, and he glanced into the interior. There was some kind of oily residue on the steering wheel, and the cream leather was trashed with stains--he was damn sure the inky ones were lesser blood . . . and that rusty-colored shit was human. Jesus, the backseat looked as if it had been hit with a spastic cat, the scratches so deep in places, the stuffing underneath was showing.

John frowned, remembering back to training-center days. Lash had always been so particular about his stuff, from the clothes he wore to the way his locker was organized.

Maybe this wasn't his car?

"This is his," Xhex said, placing her palms on the hood. "I can smell him everywhere. Engine's still warm. I don't know where he is, though."

John snarled at the thought of the guy getting so close to his female that she knew him by nose. Fucking bastard son of a bitch--

Just as his anger was getting away from him, Tohr grabbed him by the back of the neck and gave him a shake. "Deep breath."

"He's got to be around here. . . ." Xhex looked at the building in front of them and then glanced up and down the alley they were in.

When John felt a burning pain in his left hand, he brought up his arm. His grip on his dagger had tightened so hard, the handle was creaking in protest.

His eyes slipped to Tohr's.

"You're going to get him," the Brother whispered. "Don't you worry about that."





Lash half-expected Benloise's men to pop some shit as he faced off at the pair of thick necks. He was separated from them by about ten yards of cold air, and everyone had their twitch on.

As he looked them over, he hoped they did John Wayne it and try something. The two thugs would have made an excellent addition to his growing stable--they knew the trade and had obviously earned their stripes under Benloise: there were a lot of kilos in those metal suitcases they had in their hands, but the humans were coolheaded and calm.

Armed to the teeth, too.

Just like Lash. Goddamn, it was a real Lead Rave here with all the guns and ammo--and wasn't he going to feel a whole lot better after there was less of him to get shot at. Shadow was better than flesh, anytime.

"Here's the art," the guy on the left said as he hefted the cases. "Sir."

Ah, yes, the one who'd watched the shit roll out with Benloise. Explained why they were both being so polite.

"Let's see what you got," Lash murmured, keeping the muzzle of his forty trained on them. "And let's have your hands stay nice and visible."

The flash of goods was efficient and satisfactory, the pair working together with the shuffle and reveal.

Lash nodded. "Leave the product. Go."

The humans pulled a Simon Says and put down the drugs, backed away, and then briskly walked in the opposite direction, keeping their hands by their sides.

As soon as they turned a corner and their footfalls continued to echo away, Lash strode over to the briefcases and opened his shadowy palms. On command, the handles popped up and the two loads of coke levitated from the asphalt into his grip--

The shrill sound of a car alarm brought his head around, the mad beeping coming from the alley where he'd left his AMG.

Fucking human pieces of shit downtown--

Lash frowned as his instincts rippled outward and located that which had been taken from him.

She was here.

Xhex . . . his Xhex was here.

As what was left of his vampire side roared with possession, Lash found his body vibrating until his feet were removed of their burden and he moved over the asphalt with the wind, leaning into the momentum he created with his mind, not his legs. Faster. Faster--

He came around the corner and there she was, standing by his car, looking like pure sex in her leathers and her jacket. The instant he appeared, she turned toward him as if he had called out to her.

Even with no lights shining down on her, Xhex was resplendent, the ambient illumination of the city gathering to her body, like her inner charisma demanded it. Fucking wow. She was one hot bitch, especially in the fighting gear, and as the hollow space in front of his hips tingled, he reached down.

Something was hard. Behind his fly, something was there and ready for her.

With a shot of adrenaline that was better than any kind of coke, he entertained how much fun it would be to take her with an audience. His cock had returned in some form or another and that meant he was back in business--just in time.

As she met his eyes, he slowed his speed and focused on who was with her. The Brother Tohrment. Qhuinn, the mismatched genetic failure. And John Matthew.