Page 12 of Fae Divided
“Not yet,” Sarah admitted, self-consciously adjusting the sagging, single sleeve on her shoulder for the hundredth time.
“Motherfucker.” His biceps bulged as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared, the nostrils of his wide-bridged nose expanding in anger.
“Do you believe James would allow me to die?” she asked, disappointed the pack had lost faith in her Ca’anam so quickly.
Hop looked away, scanning the sea of people filling the club to maximum capacity. Jet-black hair streaked with gray and gathered in a long, tight plait accentuated his stern profile. “No.”
“He’s coming home.”
“I know.” Hop’s troubled gaze skittered over the dancers again, then moved rapidly to the exit doors before locking on the Guards posted near Queen Rose’s and Prince Myles’ booth on the upper floor. When his focus returned to Sarah, a flush darkened his high, flat cheekbones. “Do you need a hug?”
She kept her lips from twitching—barely.
Hop was a shifter male, his Ferwyn DNA demanding he soothe a distressed female whether she was a clanmate or not. He knew Sarah was touch-deprived from James’ absence and couldn’t walk away without attempting to ease her discomfort. No pack member would.
“Yes, I’d love one,” she said honestly.
Hop nodded with a grunt and dutifully drew her into a loose hold. He patted the space between her shoulder blades awkwardly. Sarah let her forehead drop to the shifter’s breastbone, and took a deep breath. His cotton tee was soft and smelled of fresh-cut green grass. She saturated her lungs with the familiar scent of the males of her race, hiding her second smile of the night.
“Thank you,” she said after a last inhale, taking pity on the least demonstrative Ferwyn in the Walker Pack by withdrawing from his unenthusiastic embrace.
He cleared his throat, acknowledging her gratitude with another brusque nod.
“Have you seen Noah?” she asked. Her son was on duty with the queen’s Guard and lost somewhere in the crush.
“I sent him to investigate a brewing disturbance between a group of aggressive Anwyll males and a female witch. They were harassing her human girlfriends, and it was turning into a shouting match. He should be—”
Whatever Hop was about to say was cut short when the club went dark, Chess’ expensive LED lighting completely failing. Surprised yelps and a few nervous giggles broke the momentarily silenced crowd. Anxious chatter returned with the electrical whine of the generators struggling to activate.
“Power outage?” Sarah asked, her pupils dilating. Although a she-wolf’s night vision was inferior to a Ferwyn male’s, it was better than a human’s—but woefully inadequate when compared to the Dádhe race.
“Probably,” Hop said, looking up as the overhead lights briefly flickered. “What the hell is that?”
“What—” Sarah didn’t get the chance to finish her question. She gasped as something smacked her bared shoulder, the impact bursting the thin, rubbery material against her skin. An oily substance that smelled of Untouched blood and the licorice of a witch’s spell dripped on her chest.
Shrieks replaced laughter as hundreds of the small, round objects fell from the ceiling, striking and splattering the mysterious liquid on the patrons below. Hop cursed viciously at the ominoussnickof dozens of vampire incisors sliding into place reverberated throughout the darkened club.
“Change!” Samuel roared from the third tier of Chess, her brother’s voice brimming with compulsion. The magic-laced demand forced Sarah’s canines and claws to appear unbidden when they usually materialized only when faced with a direct threat.
The emergency lights blinked on.
“Sarah, get out of the building,” Hop yelled above the frightened shouts of humans bolting to the exits and the anguished screams of those who could no longer run. Caught by blood-crazed vampires who fed without bothering to ensure the bite was pleasurable instead of agonizing.
Lieutenant Tucker’s voice spit from the comm unit on the Guard’s shoulder, the beta ordering the warrior to protect the queen.
“Hop, go.” Another sphere landed and ruptured at her feet, splashing her pant leg and staining the once white fabric dark crimson.
“Sarah—” Her clanmate lost the battle against his Alpha’s command to convert, shimmering into a huge black wolf.
“Go!”
Hop growled in frustration but turned and fled toward the stairs.
Sarah hesitated. She had never encountered a vampire overcome by bloodlust; newly transitioned fledglings were kept isolated from the public until trained to suppress their primal urge to drink from anything with a human pulse. And although the Dádhe weren’t interested in shifter blood, interrupting mature vampires in the throes of a feeding frenzy was a terrifying prospect.
She was surrounded by chaos. Chaos and blood.
Massive wolves were scattered throughout the club, shielding the Untouched from the hungry vampires wherever they could. Her clanmates snapped and snarled at the mindless vampires, their fur wet with Dádhe blood and the tainted copper-smelling ooze.
