“I knew this was too much cleavage,” Fiona said, peering down at the creamy expanse that her very low-cut shirt exposed.
“Oh, Princess. I hear the words ‘too much cleavage,’ but my brain doesn’t understand the meaning.” He winked at her, so hopefully she got that he was kidding and not turning into a lecherous pig. Although lately, around her . . .
“I’m taking your woman, funny boy,” the shifter mumbled. “Wanna play with the pretty human.”
“I beg your pardon,” Fiona said, all haughty lady of the manor. It was kind of hot, especially combined with her sex-kitten disguise. “Please address your comments to me. The human does not want to play with you. Be on your way.”
She made shooing motions with her hands, and Christophe sighed again. Like waving a red flag in front of a Minotaur. The shifter, predictably, snarled, showing a tangle of yellowed and broken teeth.
“Dental care, my friend. The great blessing of the modern age,” Christophe advised him.
The enraged shifter turned his attention away from Fiona, fisting his enormous hands. If he landed a punch, he might knock Christophe into next week. Best not to let him land a punch.
He stepped into the arc between the man’s burly arms, and before the angry drunk could form his next thought, Christophe had one dagger digging its tip into his throat and a second into his balls. The shifter made a noise between a yelp and a squeak, higher-pitched than Christophe would have thought the hulking man could utter.
“You’ll leave the pretty human alone now?”
The shifter nodded carefully, since his motion caused the dagger to slice a bit of the flesh from his neck. “Just funning,” he muttered as his blood trickled down his skin.
Christophe moved back and out of arm’s reach before returning his daggers to their sheaths, being sure to let everyone in the crowd gathering around them see the many weapons strapped to his body. Then, just for extra insurance, he channeled enough power to cause his eyes to glow a bright green.
The crowd around him jostled to get away.
“We don’t want any trouble, sorcerer,” one of them said. She was a tall female, curvy and muscular both, leaning against the bar. Her dark hair hung in a thick fall to her hips, and the promise of a wicked sensuality shimmered in her eyes. “Maybe you should go somewhere else to drink this night. Or at least let the human leave and you can stay and play with me.”
Fiona captured his hand and stared defiance at the shifter. “I think not.”
Amusement warred with anger on the woman’s face, but she finally settled on the first. Smiling at them, she indicated they should follow her. She made a gesture to the bartender, who nodded, and then she strode across the floor in a way that probably made every male in the place thank the gods for the invention of pants. If Christophe hadn’t met Fiona, he would have been one of them. Now, strangely enough, the shifter female’s rolling hips didn’t cause him even a twinge of desire.
She sat at a large table in the back of the pub, one that had been completely empty in spite of the large crowd. A slender man walked out of the shadows from a back room and silently joined her. She indicated the chairs across from her.
“Please. Sit.”
Christophe moved one chair so its back was to the wall as much as possible and sat, pulling Fiona into the chair to the left of him so anybody in the crowd who tried to get to her would have to go through him first.
“Fee, this is the alpha and her mate,” he said.
The alpha laughed; a deep, throaty sound of sex and pain and pleasure. “Correct. Most mistake me for my mate’s tame lapdog.”
“They’re fools, then,” Christophe replied honestly.
She laughed again and extended a hand. “Lucinda. This is my mate, Evan.”
He shook her hand. “Christophe, of Atlantis. My m—uh—
Damn, but he’d come close to saying the words “my mate, Fiona.”
Fiona glanced at him as if she’d noticed his slip, but she said nothing.
Evan wasn’t as courteous. “Claim her before another does, my friend.” He had a slight accent. Spanish, perhaps.
“I don’t know you well enough to be your friend yet,” Christophe replied evenly. “And we do things a little differently in Atlantis than you do in Pack hierarchy.”
“Maybe I’m the one who should claim
“You have bite, little human,” Lucinda said. “I almost feel like I recognize you, but you’ve never been in my pub before.”
“No, I haven’t. But it’s a lovely place,” Fiona said, gracious as usual in spite of her circumstances. “I’ll be sure to tell my friends about it.”
“Be sure not to,” Lucinda said dryly. “They might wind up as lunch. Now. Christophe of Atlantis, tell us why you are here, and what you want. I’d also like to hear if you have any American friends we may know.”
He knew what that meant. Squeezing Fiona’s arm so she didn’t start singing that ridiculous song again, he smiled at the alpha and her mate. “Lucas of the Yellowstone Pack sends you his fond regards.”
“Does he?” She tapped a very long, crimson-tipped nail on the table. “Just who is he?”
Christophe grinned. “Lucas said if you asked me that, I should remind you that he rescued one of your children who’d strayed too near a geyser on your vacation.”
Lucinda smiled—a real smile—and the force of her power washed over his own. “Stupid pups have no sense at that age. Now that all of them are teenagers or grown, I long for those innocent days.”
She turned to Fiona. “Do you have children?”
“Not yet, but I hope to one day,” Fiona said. He could tell she found the question to be overly personal and slightly offensive, but she presented a calm, smiling face to their hosts.
“Did you hear that, sorcerer?” Evan laughed and threw an arm around his mate’s shoulders. “Are you ready to be a daddy?”
“Have I done anything to offend you?” Christophe was getting a little tired of the man’s attitude. Sure, being mated to the alpha female must be exhausting, especially with Lucinda’s obvious power, but there was no need to vent his anger all over Christophe.
“Not yet,” Evan replied, a dull red light glowing in his pupils. “I’m sure you will before you leave. I don’t like sorcerers.”
“Neither do I, fur face. Not a sorcerer. Deal with it.”
Fiona sighed. “Really? Is everything about proving who possesses the bigger man parts?”
Lucinda roared with laughter. “Man parts? Oh, that is priceless, human. Now tell me what you need while I’m still amused.”
“We are trying to find out information about the theft of Vanquish,” Fiona said. “Anything you might know could help us out, and we’d really appreciate it.”
The alpha stared at Fiona in disbelief. “Anything we might know? You’d
Evan growled, deep in his throat, and Christophe got a sudden impression of predators stalking squealing prey. He smiled, a simple baring of his teeth, and Evan subsided. Wolves weren’t the only predators who hunted in the night.
“Have you heard the rumors of what that gem can do?” Lucinda snarled the words. “Enthrall my kind, perhaps permanently. What kind of a death wish do you have to come in here and tell me you’re looking for it?”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re after it,” Christophe said. “We in Atlantis don’t want it to fall into vampire hands any more than you do. If you know Lucas, then you know about our mission.”
“Protect humanity, noble sacrifices, whatever.” Lucinda shrugged. “Nothing to do with me or mine. I have heard nothing of the ones who took it, but if I do, they will regret the day they first conceived the idea. This Scarlet Ninja is already a dead man, though he doesn’t know it yet. If, to compound his transgression, he is working with the vampire Telios, we will make sure his death takes hours. Perhaps days.”
Christophe very carefully did not so much as glance at Fiona.
Lucinda planted her hands on the table and leaned forward, all crouching, feral fury. “If you discover anything,
