Page 10 of Clash of Sin and Secret

“Huntley.” I shake his hand and frown at the heap of dead assholes oozing tar onto the sidewalk. “Fucking hell. We need to clean this up.”

He nods. “I phoned a friend. A cleanup crew is on the way.”

“And the fact that you shifted in public? What about that?”

He waves my concern away. “I threw up a glamor the moment I smelled the char of these fuckers. “We’re covered.”

I let out a long whistle between my teeth. “Impressive. I wish that was a skill my people had. Instead, I get called all hours of the night to deal with the bloody consequences of poor impulse control.”

Wilder stretches out his arms and tilts his head side to side. As the vertebrae pop and resettle, he seems to work out the last of his adrenaline. Given that he was a giant black beast with massive wings only moments ago, I’d bet his body produces a shit-ton of adrenaline in a fight.

“A dragon.” I scrub a hand over my jaw. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“Not many people do,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “We were wiped out completely, but there are a few of us left.”

“Jace! Shit.” Pyper is crouched over a heap of hot guy slumped on the ground. One minute, he was sitting up at the curb nursing the back of his head, the next, he is down hard.

Wilder leaves me to rush over to check on him. It’s hard to tell who’s with whom here. Honestly, I’d bet money they are a throuple.

Not that it’s my business…or that I’d ever judge.

In a lifetime of living with Zane and Scottie, the idea has appealed to me more than a few times.

Pyper is crouched beside him, holding his face in her hands and leaning into his field of vision. “Jace, sweetie, wake up. Come on, sugar, open those eyes.”

“He needs a hospital.” Wilder straightens, turning toward the street. “But if I leave to get the truck, the glamor will break, and this mess will be exposed.”

“I can help.” The words are out of my mouth before I have time to consider them. “I’m a true blood. Our healing ability is legendary.”

“A true blood what?” Pyper asks.

“Vampire.” Wilder’s tone is strained and unnaturally neutral. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to offend me, but I also get the feeling he’s not an active member of any vampire fan clubs.

Pyper’s gaze widens, flooded with fear for the first time since all this started. “Jace is human. He wouldn’t want to be turned.”

I hold up my hands. “It doesn’t work that way. I can donate a bit of my blood, and he’ll heal over the next hour and have no lasting effects.”

Her gaze narrows on me, but Wilder makes the decision. “Do it.”

Releasing my fangs, I press my thumb into the point and slash my skin open. Stepping over to the unconscious human, I slide my thumb into his mouth and let my blood cover his tongue.

After a minute or two, I step back and wipe my thumb on my pants. “He should be fine.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude swirls in Pyper’s gaze, but there’s still a healthy dose of skepticism in there, too. “Why are you helping us?”

I chuckle. “I’ve seen you perform and when you got out of the truck, I figured I’d follow you inside and catch a set. The fight was unexpected, but it’s a fucked-up time for my clan, and killing a few bastards was a welcome outlet.”

“I heard about the death of your king.” Wilder dips his chin. “You have our condolences.”

“Thank you. It doesn’t make things suck any less, but I appreciate it.” I haul a deep breath into my lungs and shove my hands into my pockets. There are people milling around outside the bars, walking past our little tableau of dead and decaying without notice.

Magic is crazy.

I’m about to take my leave when a man with long, multicolored hair rushes toward us from the shadows. He’s obviously a warrior given his frame and the lethal way he moves, and based on the air of untouchable he’s giving off, I’d bet he’s high in the rankings of his society.

As he closes the distance to our group, his long hair shifts colors under the streetlights, his gaze locked on Pyper holding her downed lover’s head in her lap.

“Jace!” The new arrival drops to his knees and checks him over with quick hands. “Fuck, what’s wrong with him?”

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