Page 52 of City of the Lost
This time his smile was grim. “Oh, that’s something I can assure you of.”
His radio crackled. “We have a code 809. Code 809.”
His face drained of color.
“What’s a code 809?”
But he was already turning away as one of his men ran up to him. “It’s Subject X, sir.”
And suddenly, it was like I didn’t even exist. They packed up and sprinted out of the stadium, leaving me standing alone in the dark. Something glinted on the ground. I crouched and picked it up—the tiniest sliver of metal.
Barnaby would be pleased.
Azren was waiting patiently by his bike. Or at least it looked patient until you got up close enough to notice the white-knuckled grip on his bike. Fuck this, I had no time for his issues right now. I was over the hot and cold.
I pulled out of my parking space and gunned the engine. With a throaty roar, the bike followed.
We made it home in record time, probably because we drove like demons. Mini was practically panting in exhaustion by the time I pulled up outside the house. I’d been racing Azren—dumb move considering he was on a motorbike, but still, for some reason I’d needed to do it. He’d won, of course, and was leaning up against his motorbike when I climbed out of Mini.
I patted Mini on the hood. “I’ll make it up to you, baby. We’ll fill up with the expensive stuff next time.”
He shot me an amused look before heading toward the entrance at a stride. Like heck he was beating me to the door too. I broke into a sprint, brushed past him, and reached the door a second before he did.
“Well, that’s certainly mature,” he drawled.
“About as mature as blowing hot and cold is.” Ha, take that on the last-word front, demon dude.
I unlocked the door and sauntered into the foyer to find Valance sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. His chestnut hair was disheveled as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Had it grown longer? It was curling under his ears, softening his chiseled jawline.
He shot up at the sight of us.
Azren moved fast, placing himself between us.
Valance rolled his eyes. “No need for the macho tactics. Leather girl and I had a heart-to-heart last night. I kissed her boo-boos, and we made up.”
Azren’s face darkened as he looked to me. “You were alone with him, after what he did.”
“It’s fine. We’re fine, and there was no kissing of any boo-boos.”
“Yes, we’re good,” Valance added. “But we do have a problem.” His expression sobered, his electric-blue eyes flashing. “Elora’s moved up the meeting. She wants to see you tonight. Now.”
12
My heart stalled and then began to beat super-fast.
Azren shook his head slowly. “No. She can’t. We’re not ready.” His eyes flashed dangerously bright and his glamour flickered, leaving his hands curled into talons and the lower half of his body flickering and wavering.
I held up my hands, mind racing. “It’s okay. We’ll explain what’s been happening and why we’ve not had any luck.”
But Azren was glaring at Valance. He took a menacing step toward the prince. “What did you do?” he demanded.
Valance slapped a hand to his chest. “Me? What has this got to do with me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Elora wouldn’t bring the date forward without a reason. So tell me, Valance, what did you do?”
Valance’s face hardened, all angles and chiseled planes, and his startling blue dragon eyes narrowed to slits. “You don’t get to call me by name. You never get to call me by my name again.” He stalked closer until he was toe to toe with Azren.
This close together, the differences in their bulks and statures were evident. Although Valance was taller by a couple of inches, he was leaner, broader in the shoulders and slender-hipped, whereas Azren was bulkier, his body packed with tight muscle. They glared into each other’s eyes, but Azren was the first to break contact; he turned his head slightly, nostrils flaring as something dark flitted across his harsh features.
