Page 6 of Forbidden

“Yes, Lilith,” he growled, keeping his gaze averted.

“Good boy.”

He wanted to pop her head like a grape, but the minute he made a move on her, all of her followers would retaliate. He couldn’t afford to make enemies of his own people.

As quickly as she’d begun, she released him, turning away and flouncing back around her desk. “You can go. Get back to work. Make me more money.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He wasted no time escaping her office, rubbing his hands over the already healed cuts her nails had left behind on his throat.

There was a crowd around the bar, and Xyra was pouring as fast as she was able. Wolf wordlessly went to work, pouring drinks and popping caps from bottles, taking cash and swiping cards and adding prices to tabs. It was monotonous but comfortingly familiar. He ignored Xyra’s questioning looks, ignored everything but the ebb and flow of tending the bar.

That is, until someone slid onto the barstool in front of him.

“There’s blood on your neck,” Talon said by way of greeting.

Wolf turned—and Xyra was there, holding out a wet wipe. He snatched it from her and wiped at his neck.

“What’d she want?”

“To know what you’re up to,” Wolf said, aggressively throwing the wipe in the garbage under the bar. “She thinks you’re planning something, thinks that’s why you’ve allied yourself with the human.”

Talon rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t exactly listen to reason,” Wolf added. “Shewants me to report on you and Malachi, let her know if your ‘situation’ changes.” His face twisted. He didn’t want to be in the middle of this. Why couldn’t they just let him mind his own business?

“Tell her whatever she wants to hear,” Talon said easily. “Don’t keep any secrets from her. I’ve got nothing to hide. Tell her whatever keeps her off your back.”

Wolf sighed. “You’re not even doing anything. There’s nothing to tell.”

“I know. Even better. That makes your job easier.”

It didn’t seem he had much of a choice. “Right.”

As the night wore on, the crowd began to disperse. Talon paid his tab with a sleepy Alex under his arm, left Wolf a generous tip, and disappeared. Malachi and Luke had already wandered off hours ago. When there were no more customers inside, Storm came inside to help Wolf and Xyra clean up.

They were a well-oiled machine by now. Storm put the chairs on the tables while Xyra swept and Wolf mopped. They were finished in half an hour, and Wolf sent them home. Storm took the garbage out when he left. Wolf stayed behind to check some of the bottles and make sure they weren’t running too low on any crowd favorites before he called it a night, but that shouldn’t take long. He grabbed a couple of new bottles from the storage room behind the bar to have in preparation for tomorrow night’s rush.

He liked the club like this the best, when it was cleaned up and eerily quiet. He locked all the doors and shut off the lights, weaving through the tables in the dark to the front door. Locking it, he breathed in the cool night air and turned away from the warehouse. Dawn would be coming soon, and he’d like to be home before the sun rose.

When he passed in front of the alley at the edge of the building, there was a faint scraping sound. He turned his head toward it?—

Two figures lunged toward him, their blades shining in the moonlight. Wolf dropped his keys, throwing himself away from their arcing swings.

Paladins.

He went out of his way to make sure none of the others were caught alone. How could he have been so stupid as to forget to follow his own rule? The humans were fast, well-trained. He couldn’t get close enough to either of them without catching a blade, and those blades were designed to kill.

Finally, one of them swung in a way that allowed him to catch his wrist. Wrenching his arm down, Wolf twisted until something in the human’s armsnapped. He screamed, and his partner rushed him. Wolf didn’t have time to turn, and he braced himself for pain.

A third figure barreled into the second paladin, taking them both off their feet. Wide-eyed, Wolf stole the blade from the paladin in front of him and cut his throat with it while the two figures found their footing. The newcomer was unarmed, and he raised his hands in surrender with a panicked expression, skipping backward.

“Ira, what the fuck?” the remaining paladin said, fumbling with his sword.

Wolf struck, ignoring the unarmed one’s hasty, “No, no, wait!” His stolen sword pierced the paladin’s stomach—a wound not unlike the one they’d given Luke, from Malachi’s retelling.

He let the body fall with the sword and turned toward the third one. Lanky, with chocolate curls that reached hisshoulders, his deep brown eyes were wide with horror as he stared at the bodies. Perspiration dotted his brow, gleaming in the moonlight. Wolf drank in the sight, wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked. Something inside his chest expanded, like it was making room for something bigger and better than Wolf could imagine.

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