Page 66 of Lover Forbidden
L.W. was still walking away from them, looking at the closed doors of all the apartments like he was playing rock, paper, scissors with each one—and the rock was his shitkicker.
“I agree we need to just move on.” Shuli shook his head. “His Royal Fuck-Shit-Up’ness is going to want to be west of here, in a zip code that has a much, much lower median income and a far higher likelihood of crossing paths with something that smells like a human grandma.”
Plus he really wanted to get the fuck out of here. The idea Lyric was with somebody else made him want to get shitfaced on absinthe and fucked by someone with dark hair again—
He and Rhamp jerked around to the stairwell at the same time.
The scent they were looking for. Finally.
Lyric had not been mistaken.
“L.W.,” Shuli hissed as he took out one of his nines and kept it down at his thigh. “We got a party to go to.”
The heir to the throne might be big as a bus, but he could move like a sprinter when he wanted to. The asshole was instantly front and center—and even took the lead down the stairs as they started to track the stink. The three of them kept against the wall, moving silently, and at the floor below, they paused, even though the scent was still drifting up through the core of the building.
L.W. glanced back and met Shuli’s eyes. Then Rhamp’s.
When the heir nodded, they moved as a single unit. Down. Turn. Down. Turn—
They ran into two humans on the third landing, a couple on their way out, scarves wrapped tight on their necks, gloves being drawn onto hands. Rhamp, who was bringing up the rear, did the duty, brushing their memories clear and inserting the ironclad conviction that it was too cold for them to go anywhere. Home was better.
Or something like that. Whatever thought he put in their brains, they instantly backtracked and disappeared.
Now was not the time for kibitzers.
As Shuli arrived at the lobby, he dipped into the vestibule. No smell, so he shook his head sharply.
The slayer had to be in the cellar.
When L.W. pointed to the secondary fire stairs at the far end, Rhamp nodded and jogged off, his shitkickers quiet over the carpeting, his weapons making a sweet chiming sound under his jacket that only fellow vampires would hear.
Before L.W. could continue the descent from their position, Shuli latched on to the male’s sleeve. Those pale green eyes swung around, and the two of them just stood there.
Time slowed down as the scent of the enemy wrapped around them, binding them together—and Shuli reached up to his face and put his forefinger under his eye. With a swipe, he removed the foundation he used to cover the teardrop that had been inked onto his skin.
Unlike the King’s son, the tiny outline was the only tattoo he had—and he had a thought, as they were suspended on the precipice of yet another engagement with the enemy, that as much as he hated the job he’d been force-fed…
He was going to take the shit seriously.
Especially after tonight. It wasn’t the audience with the King and the sparing of his ass that shined a light on his intention. It was the dumb shit with Lyric, the fantasy that he had to let go. She was out living her life, and he needed to get real and find a better purpose than mooning after that female.
As he had no other potential motivators, it might as well be keeping L.W. alive—and that was a noble calling: There were plenty of people engaging in the war, plenty of fighters and Brothers killinglessersand trying to get to Lash.
But there was only one who was supposed to watch out for the heir.
And whether L.W. liked it or not, they were stuck with each other.
“Doing his best” was going to be a lot more than a throwaway excuse from now on, goddamn it.
“Let me go first,” Shuli said in a low voice.
L.W.’s expression screwed down into the frustrated anger that was as much a part of the male as his frickin’ heartbeat.
And Shuli just shook his head at the guy. “Please. I’m not important. You are, and we don’t know what’s down there. Let me die as the target, and you can clean up.”
The curse that came back at him wasn’t a surprise. “Come on. Why the hell are you doing this—”
“Because I don’t have anything else in life, you dumb shit.” Shuli stepped around the other fighter. “And being remembered for trying to save you ain’t a bad way to go out. You can put it on my gravestone.”
