Nightsoul Read online

  I turned around to see her pull a phone out of her pocket and extend it to him, nearly shoving it into his chest.

  “I hate this thing. Give me my old phone back.”

  “This one is better, and if anything happens, I can find you.”

  “It keeps blocking my calls and most of the time I can’t unlock the stupid thing. And no, I don’t want it to recognize my face. I want to just pick it up and use it. How hard is that?”

  With a heavy sigh, he looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be here.” I gave him a glib half smile. I didn’t miss the narrowed-eye sneer she gave me when she turned around. I wondered if the whole phone thing was a ploy to get him out of the grips of the siren.

  Pressing my finger to my lips, they still felt warm. I slid the glass away and propped my feet on the table and tried not to review the past five days of my life. It was hard not to.

  What am I going to do?

  I was still wondering about my next course of action when Asher knocked and then opened the door.

  “Your date’s over already?” I asked the frazzled Alpha, who was sporting a rigid scowl.

  “Her old phone belonged in a museum. It was a flip phone without an ability to track it. I’ve seen better burners.”

  “Why do you need to track her?”

  “I don’t need to track her. I can usually find anyone in the city if I need to, but scents vanish. It’s hard telling her the gravity of what she is without scaring her. She’s a person born of a cat-shifter who lived as a loner. She never changed and has enhanced senses. Especially her eyesight and hearing.”

  “I knew she didn’t need that hearing aid!”

  Asher laughed. “No, she doesn’t need that hearing aid, or the cane for that matter. She slipped on ice a few years ago and got it.” He stopped and chewed the bottom of his lip.

  “I know. She’s a friend of the pack and I can’t reveal anything you tell me.”

  “That’s not it. She fell on the concrete and didn’t sustain an injury. She’s resilient like shifters—it takes a lot to break our bones.”

  “Except when you change,” I pointed out. Although shifters with experience do it with exceptional speed, bones break and realign, tendons stretch, and muscles tear and reform to accommodate their animal form. Considering that it all happens in a matter of moments, it doesn’t seem so absurd that humans didn’t immediately accept them. And they didn’t seem to exert the same energy to change as I had when I used a transformation spell to turn into a cat.

  “If her shifter parent is a cat, why isn’t Sherrie handling her?”

  He shot me a devilish smile. “I can’t turn it off. Women, no matter the age, are drawn to me. It’s a curse and a blessing,” he drawled. Stepping closer to me, his lips quirked into a half smile.

  “It’s getting easier,” I shot back. He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. I inhaled his earthy musk. When we pulled away, his face was serious. “I have a rapport with her. It would complicate things to abandon her and heighten her anxiety. No need to put her through that, if she can’t change. She’s a friend of the pack, that’s all that matters. Sherrie will treat her as such, if I’m not able to help.” A frown emerged and quickly disappeared, but hints of it remained in his narrowed eyes.

  “And?”

  His brows inched together in question.

  “And, what’s concerning you besides her being a cantankerous anomaly who’s fallen for your alleged charisma?”

  Flashing me a wolfish grin, he said, “There’s nothing alleged about it, and you know it.”

  I rolled my eyes. Ugh, this guy.

  His smile quickly fell and his mood grew heavy. “I’m torn,” he admitted.

  Typically taciturn when not dealing with his pack, Asher sharing with me took a great effort, I knew that. Asher washed his hands over his face and sighed. “I’m curious about her, too. I’ve debated bringing people in to study her.” By people, I knew damn well it wouldn’t be anyone outside his pack, or at the very least another shifter.

  “What concerns you?” I asked, keeping my voice soft and as unobtrusive as possible, surprised I’d gotten this much from him.

  “Studying her opens up doors to knowing of her existence. And if by some chance it gets out, I can’t control what others would do with that information. Shifters who don’t have to answer to the call of the moon but possess all the heightened senses and abilities? People can be cruel when they think the results are worth it.”

  I wondered if he was including himself. Blinded by good intent, everyone can blur the line between good and bad, ethical and unethical, moral and immoral.

  Before I could question him further, he started moving to the kitchen. “Finish what you were telling me earlier,” he urged. With my refilled glass in hand, I followed him and sat at the breakfast nook while he made himself comfortable. After taking a moment to look in my refrigerator, he glowered. Then he searched the small pantry next to it, and then my cabinets.

  “You don’t have any food,” he announced. I didn’t miss the judgment in his voice.

  I need none of that.

  “I have plenty. There’s a large multipack box of popcorn and two bags of chips. Look farther back in the freezer, you’ll find a bag of pizza rolls.”

  “Pizza rolls?” His eyes widened and his lips twisted.

  “Yes, Your Highness, pizza rolls.” I hadn’t had a chance to shop. I was busy fighting a rogue fae and dying.

  “What have you had to eat today?”

  “A bag of popcorn, cheese sticks, and this.” I raised my glass.

  Taking out his phone, he scrolled through it. “Chinese?”

  I shrugged. “Fine, I’m not picky.” He glanced at my fridge and I could see the comment obviously glint in the recesses of his slate-gray eyes, the devilish smirk that pursed his lips. My eyes narrowed on him, daring him to say it out loud.

  He met my gaze and his lips twitched, fighting the urge to meet the challenge. Jaw clenched, after several lulling moments and considerable effort, he did.

  Once Asher ordered the food, I returned to the sofa, plonked down on it, and refilled my glass. Asher joined me in silence, but I could feel his intense gaze on me. When I turned to face him, I took another long sip from the glass and handed it to him. It was a communal drink now.

  “Your mother’s a god, but what about your dad?”

  I took the drink from him and nearly emptied it. “I don’t know who or what he is. I’m not a death mage, never have been, so I doubt he’s one. My parents had been hiding that from me for years. Not raven cursed. I can’t use magic because somebody decided to restrict it.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged a response and filled my glass again. There was so little ice in the glass that I might as well have been drinking the vodka straight. I took a sip, my eyes remaining on Asher’s disapproving gaze. Taking the glass from me, he tossed back the remaining contents. Then he grabbed the bottle and drained it.

  “If you didn’t want me to drink, you could have just said so.”

  He leaned in, his finger brushing rhythmically along my cheek, and whispered, “I want to have this conversation with you sober.”

  “We should have had this conversation five hours ago,” I teased.

  He went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water and handed it to me. “Why was your magic restricted?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Either because my mother is a psychopath and they didn’t want her daughter out there doing the same, or they were trying to protect me and prevent me from being found each time I used my magic.”

  He considered my answer for a long time. “Hmm. I think it was your father who restricted your magic.”

  “Why?”

  “You were adopted as a baby, right?”

  I barely nodded my confirmation.

  “Who else would want to protect you other than your father?”

  “My father—” I stopped abruptly. Why
was I calling these people mother and father as if they were anything more than people who helped give me life? Egg-lady and Sperm-dude didn’t seem right either. Donor number one and donor number two? Perfect. “My father had sex with a certifiable evil goddess with a thirst for violence, murder, and domination. I’m not sure he’s the nurturing, protecting type.”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out. Sometimes people fall in love with people they never expected to. Perhaps she seduced him, for the sole purpose of making you.”

  No, she desired a death that would trick the spell that bound her into thinking she was dead and releasing her. But I kept that part to myself.

  “The question still remains, why would she want to kill you?” he asked.

  Was that information I could give him? Again, I found myself trawling through all the information Mephisto had given me, trying to determine which information wasn’t privileged.

  How do shifters keep this straight?

  The arrival of our food gave me more time to sort through the information and edit what was necessary. The Huntsmen’s secrets meticulously intertwined with mine. By the time I made it to the kitchen to help him with the food, I’d sorted things out the best that I could.

  Shifters had helped with taking down the Immortalis, and I wasn’t under any illusions that Asher didn’t know about them. The shifters might work for the STF, but everyone knew where their true loyalty lay.

  “My mother created an army, the Immortalis. A lot of them have been killed, and because of me, she can’t make another army. Her magic is shared with me.”

  “And you’re sure she’s able to get you?” he asked between bites.

  I nodded. Unsure of anything, I relied on Mephisto’s information.

  His eyes assessed me with uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

  I shook my head. Something would give me away. The human lie detector was making it difficult to navigate and dance around the information.

  “How did she escape?” he asked, ignoring his food.

  That was something I couldn’t tell him. Shoving several more bites of food into my mouth, I shrugged.

  “Does it have anything to do with that new scar near your stomach?”

  “No.”

  His lips kinked into a disapproving scowl.

  “I’d rather you tell me it’s confidential than lie to me. There are no lies between us.”

  Nearly choking on my food, I hurried to chew it and chugged the remainder of my water. “There aren’t?” I asked. “Asher, I think there are plenty of lies between us, the only difference is you’re usually the one telling them.”

  He gave me a smug, indulgent look as if he was standing by his statement.

  “How did you get the Mystic Souls book?”

  “You wanted it. I acquired it.”

  “Did you steal it?” Cory was convinced Asher had stolen the arcane book that I tried to use to allow me to borrow magic without killing the donor.

  “You wanted it. I acquired it,” he repeated, the look on his face intensifying. If he didn’t want to give me the truth, he wouldn’t. People who are good at detecting lies tend to be great at telling them. Even if I hooked him to a lie detector, I was confident he’d pass.

  “The Salem Stone. How did you get to it before I did?”

  “I’m a really good hunter.”

  I glared at him.

  “No lies, just secrets between us,” I said.

  “Semantics.”

  We finished our food, allowing the conversation to devolve into nonsensical and superficial topics, which I appreciated. I had a lot to think about, including me wanting to use Asher as a distraction. I wasn’t totally convinced that’s all it was. When we decided to watch a movie, my leaning against him with his arm wrapped around me was the bottom of the list of bad choices.

  Asher offered to stay but I needed to be alone.

  It wasn’t just solitude I wanted. I needed time to sort things out. My dad could have been the one who took me and restricted my magic. Who and what was he to possess magic like that?

  CHAPTER 4

  Asher finishing off the vodka was probably for the best because instead of waking up with a throbbing headache, I awoke motivated to discuss the past few days with Madison. Asher probably woke up without any problems—the benefits of a shifter’s metabolism.

  Madison’s decision to give me time to process things was appreciated, but unfortunately Cory didn’t share the same belief or possess the discipline. Since informing him of my leaving Mephisto’s, I’d received at least ten text messages and one call while Asher and I were watching the movie.

  “Movie! Your life is in shambles, probably in peril, and you’re cuddling with Asher!”

  I wanted to snap back, I died! Can’t I at least enjoy a movie before battling my mother? But with Asher so close, I just snarked back something and told him to meet me at Madison’s, so I wouldn’t have to repeat the information.

  The conversation with them would be easier than it was with Asher because I could give them the truth, straight no chasers. And maybe the tightness that had settled in the muscles of my neck and chest would ease.

  Weaving my way through traffic that was heavier than usual for a Saturday, I got off the highway, two exits from Madison’s, and watched the black R8 that had been following me since I’d left my apartment exit as well. And the matte-black SUV with a modified grill that made the vehicle look more hostile than any vehicle should. It was easy to assume mere coincidence when I first noticed them, but when they remained close after my coffee stop, I knew I was being followed.

  Not wanting them to follow me to Madison’s, I pulled into the shopping plaza and parked close to a convenience store. There was enough activity that if I wanted to draw attention to myself, I could. When they parked on either side of me, making it brazenly apparent they were tailing me, I realized I hadn’t been at all cunning in spotting them.

  With my double-karambit in hand and a knife sheathed at my ankle, I stepped out of the car and quickly made my way to the driver’s window of the R8, rapped on the window, and jerked my head at him to get out.

  “Shifter,” I groaned under my breath as the tall, olive-skinned man who had me by nearly seven or eight inches stepped out. If it weren’t for the glint of predatory awareness in his chocolate eyes, I would have been met with boredom. Thin and wiry, his short-sleeve shirt exposed sinewy muscled arms and a tapestry of ink snaking up them when he crossed them over his chest.

  “Yes?” he inquired, brow hitched up. The purse of his lips hinted at the same boredom I saw in his eyes.

  The shorter woman who stepped out of the SUV had a predaceous mien that made me grip my karambit tighter. Although stout in build, she moved with the fluid grace and self-assurance of shifters. She looked like she was on a security detail job, dressed in a black shirt and pants. I noted the bulges in her clothes that I suspected were concealed weapons.

  “What’s wrong?” the female shifter asked.

  Mr. Bored shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been made.” I have to stop watching police dramas and thrillers with Cory.

  Mr. Bored smirked. “Made? We weren’t hiding. We were following you in plain sight. Asher wanted our presence to be known.”

  “Asher? He put you up to it?”

  “No, we had nothing better to do than go with you on a Starbucks run,” the female shifter quipped.

  Fixing the comedy duo with a hard look, I said, “I don’t want to be followed.”

  They responded with disinterested and dismissive looks.

  “That’s not really up to you. Maybe you should take it up with Asher,” the female shifter finally said, ending the awkward silence.

  Standing up taller, my hard glare shifted to her first. Her diminutive size made me think she’d cower easier. She didn’t, returning my glare with one of her own: icy, steely, and indomitable. And a little bitchy. Served me right for judging a book by its cover. Mr. Tall and Bored’s gaze mirrored
hers with just a skosh of jackassery to drive home the point.

  My badass stare-down has been honed from years of practice. It got results and I gave them the full intensity of it. “Stop. Following. Me. I command you.” My voice was dagger sharp and arctic cold. For effect, I shifted my weapon, allowing the sun to gleam off it, making it look more menacing.

  Their roars of laughter and looks of amused incredulity were, frankly, insulting and ignited my anger.

  Shifters are the worst.

  I was the reason they were immune to magic. Shouldn’t I be their queen or something? Or at the very least Alpha by proxy.

  Their narrowed gazes followed me as I stalked back to my car. Yanking open the door, I snatched my phone off the seat. Then I gave myself several minutes to get hold of my emotions before scrolling through my contacts and calling Asher.

  “Erin,” he answered in a raspy purr. A smile was in his voice and I could envision the half grin and its unyielding self-assurance.

  “Call them off.”

  “Ah, you’re out and about, I see.”

  “Yes, I’m out and about and being followed by your shifters. Send them away.”

  “No,” he responded without consideration. Hearing the amused satisfaction in his voice just made me more determined.

  “Asher, this isn’t a debate.”

  “Exactly. Yesterday you told me someone wanted you dead. I’m not about to let that happen. You’re right, there’s not going to be a debate. The answer is no. If we’re done here, I’d like to get back to work. No matter how effortless I make it look, running a business is a challenge.”

  I didn’t immediately respond and let him hear me seething. He had to know this wasn’t going to end that easily for him.

  “Goodbye, Erin.” With that, the phone disconnected. I couldn’t bear to look out my window and see the smug looks on my sentries’ faces.

  When I started the car and pulled out without warning, I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to catch up. Out of the rearview mirror, I got a glimpse of the female shifter’s grin when I got back on the exit in the opposite direction and sped to my destination. The towering building at the beginning of the street dwarfed all the others except for its twin at the end, the Lion Pack’s building. Both were a dark brown, with lush manicured bushes flanking the entryway. A lighted fountain decorated the front lawn along with newly installed statues of howling wolves, facing in opposite directions.