Page 24 of Fanged Secrets
Despite my best efforts, I could not get the taste of her blood off my lips.
Trudging through the busy streets all night had done nothing to clear my head and the intoxicating essence of Amara was like a rope length between us, pulling taunt the further away from her I walked. I replayed the events of the night before, over and over again until the memories blurred together and I couldn’t piece together a timeline of how it started, and how it escalated so quickly.
How it ended, though, that part was vividly clear.
Amara had bared her neck to me, and I felt her tantalizing pulse against my lips. Against all reason, my fangs had come out. It was a dangerous move, biting down on her lip – drawing blood. I had put the identity of the Leyore coven at risk. I put Amara herself in harm's way, untethered and hungry as I was. I had let an unwieldy, primal urge get the best of me, and broke every rule of self-preservation that I had.
It was hard not to hold it against her. But in truth, I only had myself to blame. I knew where Amara’s allegiances lay, and I kissed her anyway. And now I had the audacity to feel sorry for myself.
I couldn’t go home, couldn’t face her. I couldn’t even trust myself not to take her in my arms again. Pathetic as that notion was. I wasn’t even sure she’d still be there. And the thought of coming home to an empty apartment hurt the most.
Disappearing on the spot had not been my smartest move.
I had just turned the corner of another packed sidewalk when my phone chimed in my pocket, wrenching me out of my own head. Jordan had texted me an address, one of Don’s bars, followed by five exclamation marks and about a dozen emojis that I couldn’t decipher.
Grateful for the distraction, I responded with a single question mark and immediately got an incoming call from Jordan.
“We’ve got eyes on a potential dragon shifter. I need you to get down there and confirm.”
I considered, examining my bloodshot eyes in the reflective windows of a storefront. I had been up all night, dodging strangers in the street, still wearing my blood-stained clothing from the night before. I could do with a shower and a decade-long sleep. But I couldn’t go back to the apartment.
“Sure,” I responded, already changing course and heading toward the pin drop on the map. “I’ll be there in no time.”
Jordan was quiet for a moment before asking. “Are you all right? You sound kinda –”
“Sorry. Signal’s bad here.” I cut her off, holding the phone away from my face and aiming it at the blaring sound of traffic. “I’ll call you when I have answers.”
I ended the call and pocketed my cell, dipping into an alleyway and trailing shadows as I went.
The sun was just setting by the time I made it to the bar. Already, a queue was forming at the entrance and I ducked my head down, slinking through the crowd. Getting inside, instead of hiding out on the rooftops, was risky. But if I was going to root out a dragon shifter I wasn’t left with much choice.
The pulsing lights and pounding music were disorientating, but it was easy to slip around unnoticed in the packed bar. As I moved deeper into the building, a flash of silvery hair caught my eye. I turned sharply, concealing myself behind a couple caught in a lip-locked embrace. Past their smooching, I spotted the head of gleaming hair again. The snowy-haired woman in the corner was unmistakable, I recognized her from the night before. She had been on the boat at the docks, helping Don aboard.
If this was the dragon shifter, it raised even more questions. The thought that Don might know more about the supernatural world than he let on gnawed at me. Or were the dragon shifters operating right under his nose? Either way, it was suspicious.
The wheels in my head turned as I followed the woman with white hair. She weaved through the throng of people with practiced ease, eventually reaching a quieter corner of the cramped bar. I watched from a close distance as she handed a drink to a blond man with a grim expression. They stood together, speaking in low voices, unblinking eyes observing the crowd.
Sticking to the shadows, I crept closer, straining to hear their conversation. I dodged a drunken student as they stumbled by, spilling beer on their Queens hoodie. Taking up residence in the shadowed spot near the bathroom, I was just within earshot and squinted at the two blondes.
The woman looked more human than she had last night, cloaked in a luxurious fur coat. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, as opposed to gray, and her eyes were no longer filled with that abyssal blackness. But there was still something strange about her. About both of them. They stood like stone statues, the movement of their lips so minute I could barely catch them. They moved like ancient beings who had all the time in the world.
The words "Leone" and something that sounded like "sacred egg" floated over the din of the music. I didn’t know what to make of it. These people were definitely connected to Don, but the mention of a sacred egg left me puzzled. There was also something peculiar about their speech. Their accents were thick and jarring, with a lilting cadence that took me a moment to place. Russian. The realization sent a shiver down my spine.
These people were dragon shifters. I was sure of it.
But it was the woman’s next words that had me rooted to the spot. Her tone was monotonous when she spoke, wholly apathetic. “ – the death of Don Leone’s daughter will be coming soon enough.”
Horror settled over me, cold as frostbite. The room slanted before my eyes, the rest of the duo’s words lost to the swell of the music. The death of Don Leone’s daughter. They were talking about Amara.
My mind raced, trying to put the pieces together. Dragon shifters, and a sacred egg. Don Leone at the docks. The death of his daughter. Did he know what they had planned? It was obvious Don cared little for Amara, his own flesh and blood, but apathy was plenty steps away from premeditated murder. Who were these people, and what did they want with her?
I considered confronting them right then and there, slitting their throats if I had to. I edged closer, stepping lightly on the balls of my feet. It was irrational, I knew that. The bar was filledwith people. A stern voice in the back of my mind told me to wait, that my job was reconnaissance only. But louder still was the voice screaming for their blood. The crowd flowed around me, paying me no heed. I could do it. I had the element of surprise…
I reached for my blades, only to realize that I only had one. I’d dropped the other one after confronting Amara the night before. That was fine, I could work with one. I slowly tugged it from its sheath, concealed under the sleeve of my jacket, and froze.
A familiar face in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A familiar figure pushing through the throng of bodies, caramel curls swishing on dainty shoulders. My stomach dropped, and panic set in, the fine hair of my forearms standing at attention.
Jostled by the crowd and craning her neck like she was looking for someone, Amara was here.
