Page 17 of The Firebrand
Smartass.
This female was trouble. She forced him to lose control, wanting to strangle her or run his hands all over her too-skinny body, craving her flavor.
“Where are we? Who was that man?”
“Firebrand Stronghold. That was my commander.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Don’t walk away from me.” She stomped her foot. “Damn it. Tell me…”
Rein snapped his wrist again, and Braelyn froze with her mouth open. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted while her hand clasped her throat. She gasped, as if trying to talk but unable to get out any words. She directed an if-looks-could-kill evil eye at him.
“You’ll be fine. Simmer down, female. Just sit still, shut up, and wait.”
A Scath law forbade using a spell on humans without consent unless they were a threat or needed protection. He figured Braelyn needed protection. From himself.
So, no law broken.
****
Inthe locker room, Rein stuffed dirty clothes into a duffle while muttering a string of damns, hells, holy schisms, bloody covens, and fucks. He exchanged his chest holster and three modified US Marine Raider stiletto blades for a brass-handled Dolch short sword. Strapping it to a belt, he tied it down on his leg. No Firebrand, even one in street duds, was without the tools of the trade. The trade being death. Kicking his locker door shut, he dented its worn exterior.
Ramirez, fresh from a sparring session and clean shower, changed into flashy duds. A hairsbreadth shorter but broader in the shoulders than Rein, he was not as fast, skilled, nor calculating. Whenever they squared off, Rein rattled the younger male, goading him into making predictable mistakes. The hot-headed, full-of-himself satyr Firebrand versus the cool, controlled, and experienced warrior. No contest.
Jezzi, a panther shapeshifter, having struggled into her tight-ass, black leather pants, sat on a bench and pulled on boots tall enough to make a hooker proud.
Still throwing practice punches, Tyr, a cocky young warlock with a silver piercing through his brow, came in from a workout. “Rein. Ram. Jezzi.” He nodded at all three. “Who’s the human female outside?”
Rein rubbed the back of his neck.This will be as fun as jumping into a pit of vipers.“She’s with me.”
Ram snorted as he slammed his locker closed. “Met up with Chay in the Cubes. The ylve’s yucking it up about you not being able to scrub her memory. Says you brought her over from Earth, Rein-man. Something about a cocked-up mess with a Kalli.”
Tyr threaded fingers through his spiked dark hair. “Not cool, dude. Your rep’s gonna suffer a downhill slide.”
“What are you going to do with her?” asked Ram.
“None of your business.”
Ram shrugged but bristled beneath the gesture. “I’m out of here.” He grabbed his duffle and swiveled toward Jezzi. “Heading to the Blood Shed later if you’re interested.” His gaze raked over the panther shifter. “I’d love to see you there, Jez. Maybe I could get a closer look at your tits.”
Satyrs could get into any female’s pants. Probably because pheromones leaked from their pores.
“Ram, you smooth talker. You want a closer look? Here they are.” With a teasing arched brow, Jezzi sidled up to the satyr, pressing her breasts against his chest. When he looked down, her dagger was at his throat, nicking it. “What do you think?”
“They look great. Some of the best I’ve seen.” He grinned, catching a swell of blood with his thumb before it dripped onto his collar.
She sheathed her blade as Ram sauntered off, his lips curled.
“Right answer,” she yelled at his back. “Fuckin’ satyr. Think you can dope me with your sex spice.”
“Not you,freron. I know better,” he said, his hand waving goodbye above his head.
By the time Rein caught up, the satyr was in the gathering area, his damp hair streaming past his shoulders. He was on pause in front of Braelyn, balancing his weight between his spread, thickly muscled legs.
Braelyn’s chin tilted upward. Good thing. Otherwise, her nose would be buried in his fucking crotch.
