Page 62 of The Tracker's Rage
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it some more?” he asked as if he were some sort of therapist and not a drug lord, willing or not.
“I’m sure.” I danced on the spot, wiggling my torso and arms. “I’m here for some fun.”
His concerned expression changed to something slightly predatory, and he answered in a voice an octave deeper. “Fun with you is the best kind.”
We moved onto the dance floor. People made way for us as they noticed Stephen. They ogled him as if he were some sort of celebrity, and I registered the jealous glances that both men and women sent in my direction.
The song the DJ was playing was some dubstep with a strong baseline that rattled in my chest. I began moving to the rhythm of the beat, swaying my hips and weaving my arms as if I were a spell-wielding mage. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jake dancing with the redhead he’d mentioned. She was practically hanging off of him, rubbing her entire front against his body as if she were a human windshield wiper.
My rage, which I had managed to keep in check during the last few days, reared its ugly head. A tingling sensation rippled from my shoulders all the way down to my hands and sharp claws sprang at the tips of my fingers.
I balled my hands into fists to hide my reaction from Stephen. He inclined his head, leaning closer. “It seems impossible,” he said in a rumbling voice, “but you’re even hotter than before.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. I placed my fists on his chest and slowly allowed my fingers to spread open. The claws were gone, and I did my best not to glance in Jake’s direction.
“And I can feel you’re as strong as ever.” I let my fingers explore his firm pecs, teasing his nipples on my way up toward his neck.
He shivered and smiled, his eyes growing hooded, while, under his shirt, I felt a thick chain. Pressing his nose to my hair, he inhaled deeply and ground his hips into mine. I felt his hardness through the thin fabric of my shorts and fought the urge to push him away. Instead, I wrapped one hand around the nape of his neck while I allowed the other to follow the trail of the chain. Finally, my fingers found the pendant Jake and Ulfen had mentioned.
As I tried to feel the trinket through his shirt, I noticed Jake march off the dance floor. The redhead was hot on his heels, appearing confused. He looked pissed. I smiled. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one experiencing a bit of jealous rage, except he’d opted to leave rather than bare it.
Serves him right.
Shaking all thoughts of Jake aside, I tried to concentrate on touching the pendant through Stephen’s shirt, but I got no vibes of any kind from it. I needed to be able to touch it directly. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, I worked to undo one of the buttons of his shirt—except, he didn’t miss a beat and made a sound in the back of his throat as he noticed my daring move. Of course, he took it the wrong way and concluded I had the hots for him.
Sonotthe case.
In fact, bile was starting to rise up my throat. He had helped Blake hurt Jake at the warehouse. They had almost killed him. If I hadn’t been there, I had a feeling Jake would be dead now, and we would have found no trace of his body to even bury or use for evidence to find the culprit.
My rage rekindled like a stubborn forest fire that wouldn’t be put out.
I didn’t yet know if I should hate Stephen or not, but, as he pressed his body against mine, all I wanted to do was punch him in the jaw.
Reigning in my anger, I snuck my fingers through the gap I’d created in his shirt. They touched something cold and intricate. I closed my eyes trying to focus, but Stephen snatched my hand and pressed it to his lips.
“I’m so glad you came,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to see you, but I’ve been so busy. Ever since I came back from New Orleans, my life has been a whirlwind.”
I smiled up at him, syrupy sweet. “How come?”
“With my father in jail, I’ve had to focus on the family business. Now that he’s out, though, I hope I’ll have more time to see you, if you would like to, which I’m getting the feeling you would.”
My saccharine smile deepened. “I’ve been busy too, but I look forward to it. We should both try to make time to—”
Without warning, Stephen lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting of alcohol and basil. I resisted the urge to gag, kissed him back for a millisecond, then pulled away. He growled in the back of his throat and got ready to kiss me again, but the clear sound of glass breaking rose over the music’s bass.
Stephen glanced up, and I followed his gaze. We couldn’t quite see what had happened through the mass of dancing bodies, but it seemed one of the staff had dropped a tray of glasses, and they had smashed on the floor. Jake stood nearby, towering over everyone, his clear gaze smoldering with anger. Something told me he had seen that kiss and had caused a ruckus to create a distraction.
Taking advantage of the moment, I slipped my fingers under Stephen’s shirt once more, and touched the pendant.
A slew of images tumbled into my mind, crashing into one another, overwhelming me with the speed at which they appeared. Their colors were strident and discordant like a symphony of rainbows on steroids. Behind all the clashing colors, I perceived the outline of shapes. Objects, faces, buildings, but the images blurred, indistinguishable and useless.
Even after the onslaught should’ve stopped, it continued with a hammering quality that threatened to split my skull in two. I yanked my hand away from the pendant and pressed it to my forehead, staggering backward, suddenly weak-limbed and dizzy. Stephen caught me just in time before I fell.
“Toni!” He swept me off my feet and carried me off of the dance floor.
I blinked drunkenly as the sea of bodies parted to let us through, some of them gaping while others seemed to swoon at my knight in shining armor’s chivalry. He brought me back to the booth, sat me down, and squatted in front of me. Holding one of my hands in his, he stared up with concern.
“Are you all right?”
