“Combination platter for four,” Curran ordered.
His hungry and my hungry were two completely different things.
The waiter departed.
Curran smiled. It was a happy, genuine smile and it catapulted him from attractive into irresistible territory. He didn’t smile very often in public. That intimate smile was usually reserved for private moments when we were alone.
I pulled the band off my still-damp braid and slid my fingers through it, unraveling the hair. Curran’s gaze snagged on my hands. He focused on my fingers like a cat on a piece of foil pulled by a string. I shook my head and my hair fell over my shoulders in a long dark wave. There we go. Now we were both private in public.
Tiny gold sparks danced in Curran’s gray irises. He was thinking dirty thoughts and the wicked edge in his smile made me want to slide over next to him and touch him.
We had to wait. I was pretty sure that having hot sex on the floor of Arirang would get us banned for life. Then again, it might be worth it.
I raised my tea in a salute. “To our date.”
He raised his cup and we clinked them gently against each other.
“So how was your day?” he asked.
“First, I chased a giant jellyfish around through some suburbs. Then I argued with Biohazard about coming and picking it up, because they claimed it was a Fish and Game issue. Then I called Fish and Game and conferenced them in on the Biohazard call, and then I got to listen to the two of them argue and call each other names. They got really creative.”
“Then Jim called,” Curran said.
I grimaced. “Yes. That, too.”
“Is there a particular reason you’re avoiding our chief of security?” Curran asked.
“Do you remember how my aunt killed the head of the Mercenary Guild?”
“Not something one forgets,” he said.
“The Guild is still squabbling over who should be in charge now.”
Curran glanced at me. “That was what, five months ago?”
“My point exactly. On one side there are the older mercs, who have combat experience. The other side is the support staff. Both groups have roughly an equal share of the Guild as a result of Solomon’s will and they hate each other. It’s getting into death threat territory, so they’re having some sort of final arbitration to decide who’s in charge.”
“Except they are deadlocked,” Curran guessed.
“Yes, they are. Apparently Jim thinks I should break that tie.”
The Guild’s now-dead founder was a closet shapeshifter, and he had left twenty percent of the Guild to the Pack. So as long as the Mercenary Guild remained deadlocked, nobody was getting paid and the Pack alphas wanted that income stream to start flowing again. They put pressure on Jim, and Jim put pressure on me.
I had done enough years in the Guild to be viewed as a veteran. Jim had as well, but unlike me, he had the luxury of having kept his identity semi-private. Most mercs didn’t know he was high up in the Pack.
I had no privacy. I was the Beast Lord’s Consort. It was the price I paid for being with Curran, but I didn’t have to like it.
His Majesty drank his tea. “Not looking forward to settling the dispute?”
“I’d rather eat dirt. It’s between Mark, Solomon’s longtime assistant, and the veterans led by the Four Horsemen, and they despise each other. They aren’t interested in reaching a consensus. They just want to throw mud at each other over a conference table.”
An evil light sparked in his eyes. “You could always go for Plan B.”
“Pound everyone to a bloody pulp until they shut up and cooperate?”
“Exactly.”
It would make me feel better. “I could always do it your way instead.”
Curran raised his blond eyebrows.
“Roar until everyone pees themselves.”
A shadow of self-satisfaction flickered on his face and vanished, replaced by innocence. “That’s bullshit. I’m perfectly reasonable and I almost never roar. I don’t even remember what it feels like to knock some heads together.”
The Beast Lord of Atlanta, a gentle and enlightened monarch. “How progressive of you, Your Majesty.”
He cracked another grin.
The male necromancer in the booth next to us reached under the table and produced a rectangular rosewood box. Ten to one, there was some sort of jewelry inside.
I nodded at Curran. “Your turn. How did your day go?”
“It was busy and full of stupid shit I didn’t want to deal with.”
The blond woman opened the box. Her eyes lit up.
“The rats are having some sort of internal dispute over some apartments they bought. Took all day to untangle it.” Curran shrugged.
The woman plucked a golden necklace from the box. Shaped like an inch-and-a-half-wide segmented collar of pale gold, it gleamed in the feylantern light.
I poured us more tea. “But you prevailed.”
“Of course.” Curran drank from his cup. “You know, we could stay over in the city tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because that way we wouldn’t have to drive for an hour back to the Keep before we could fool around.”
Heh.
A scream jerked me to my feet. In the booth, the blond necromancer clawed at the necklace, gasping for breath. The man stared at her, his face a terrified mask. The woman raked her throat, gouging flesh. With a dried pop, her neck snapped, and she crashed to the floor. The man dived down, pulling at the necklace. “Amanda! Oh my God!”
Past him two pairs of red vampire eyes stared at us through the window.
The dull carmine glow of vampire irises flared into vivid scarlet. Shit. The restaurant had just updated its menu with fresh human.
Flesh boiled on Curran’s arms. Bone grew, muscle twisted like slick ropes, skin sheathed his new body and sprouted fur. Enormous claws slid from Curran’s new fingers.
The vampires rose off their haunches.
Curran stood up next to me in his warrior form, nearly eight feet of steel-hard muscle.
I gripped Slayer’s hilt, feeling the familiar comforting texture. Bloodsuckers reacted to sudden movement, bright lights, loud noises, anything that telegraphed prey. Whatever I did had to be fast and flashy. The blood alone wouldn’t do it, not when every table was filled with raw meat.
The front window exploded in a cascade of gleaming shards, and the vampires sailed through, like they had wings. The left bloodsucker landed on the table, the remnant of the chain hanging from its neck. The right skidded on the slick parquet floor and bumped into another table, scattering the chairs.
I screamed and dashed to the left, pulling Slayer as I sprinted. Curran snarled and leaped, covering half the distance to the right bloodsucker in a single powerful jump.
My vamp glared at me. I looked into its eyes.
Like staring into an ancient abyss. Behind the eyes, its mind seethed, free of its master’s control. I wanted to reach out and crush it, like a bug between my fingernails. But doing that would give me away. I might as well give the People a sample of my blood with a pretty bow on it.
“Here!” I flicked my wrist, making the reflection of feylanterns dance along Slayer’s surface. Look. Shiny.
The bloodsucker’s gaze locked on the blade. The vamp ducked down, like a dog before the strike, front limbs
