He looked around the bathroom. “You let me take you in here and push your skirt up and fuck you. And you’re surprised I don’t care? Exactly what did you think was going to happen?”
The last of the excited, I’m-a-good-girl-doing-a-bad-thing drained from her expression. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“Why is it bitches like you are always surprised?”
“Bitches?” Self-righteous anger distorted her face, taking her from pretty into gorgon territory-and yet making her somewhat more intriguing. “You don’t know me.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re a slut who lets a guy she’s never met before come in her mouth in a bathroom. Please. I’d have more respect for a prostitute. At least they get paid in something other than spunk.”
“You are such a bastard!”
“And you are boring me.” He reached for the knob.
She grabbed his arm. “Watch it, asshole. I can make things bad for you in a heartbeat. Do you know who my father is?”
“Someone who didn’t do his job of raising you properly? ”
Her free palm hit him square in the face. “Fuck you.”
Okay, the fighting definitely made her more interesting.
As his fangs punched out into his mouth, he was ready to bite through her throat like it was a Twizzler fresh out of the bag. Except someone pounded on the door and reminded him he was in public and she was human and cleanup was always a bitch.
“You’re gonna be sorry,” she spat at him.
“Oh, yeah?” He leaned in and was surprised when she held her ground. “You can’t touch me, girlie.”
“Watch me.”
“You don’t even know my name.”
Her smile was icy, adding years to her age. “I know plenty-”
The pounding on the door started up again.
Before she teed up for another slap and he couldn’t stop himself from retaliating, Lash ducked out of the bathroom, his parting salvo a quick, “Pull your skirt down, why don’t you.”
The guy who’d been knock-knock-knockin’ on the other side took one look at him and stepped way back. “Sorry, man.”
“No problem,” Lash said, rolling his eyes. “You probably saved that bitch’s life.”
The human laughed. “Stupid whores. Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.” The bathroom next door opened and the guy turned away, flashing a righteous eagle embossed on the back of his leather jacket.
“Nice bird you got there,” Lash said.
“Thanks.”
Lash went over to the bar and nodded at Mr. D. “Time to go. I’m done.”
He took his wallet from his back pocket-and froze. The billfold wasn’t his. It was his father’s. He quickly slipped a fifty out, then buried the thing back where it had been.
He and Mr. D left the crowded, noisy club and when he stepped onto Trade Street’s sidewalk, he took a long, deep breath. Alive. He felt totally alive.
On the way over to the Focus, Lash said, “Give me your phone. And the numbers of four straight-up killers.”
Mr. D handed the Nokia over and recited some digits. As Lash called the first one and gave the slayer an address in a high-rent part of town, he could practically hear the bastard’s suspicion-especially as the lesser asked who the fuck was calling him on Mr. D’s phone.
They didn’t know who he was. His men didn’t know who he was.
Lash handed the fucking phone back to Mr. D and barked for the Fore-lesser to give confirmation. Man, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the doubting thing, but that shit was so going to change. He was going to give his troops a few places to hit tonight to gain himself some cred, then the Lessening Society was going to have a come-to-Jesus meeting in the morning.
They would follow him or meet their maker. Period.
After he and Mr. D did the cell phone handoff three more times, Lash said, “Now take me to Twenty-one Fifteen Boone Lane.”
“You want me to call more men in to hit it with us?”
“For our next house, yeah. But this first one is personal. ”
His dear old cousin Qhuinn was about to eat his own ass for lunch.
After five months of being the Primale, Phury was used to not feeling comfortable. The whole goddamn thing had been one ill-fitting suit after another, a whole wardrobe of I-don’t-want-to-do-this.
And yet interviewing Layla for the position of First Mate felt especially wrong.
Viciously wrong.
As he waited for her in the library, he prayed to God she didn’t drop her robe like the others had.
“Your grace?”
He looked over his shoulder. The Chosen was standing in the open double doors of the room, her white robe falling to the floor in folds, her slender body held with regal grace.
She bowed deeply. “It is my wish for you to fare well this evening.”
“Thank you. I hope the same for you.”
As she straightened, her eyes met his. They were green. Like Cormia’s.
Shit. He needed a blunt. “Would you mind if I light up?” “Of course not. Here, let me bring you the flame.” Before he could tell her not to bother, she picked up a crystal lighter and came over to him.
Putting a hand-rolled between his lips, he stopped her as she flipped the lid free. Taking the heavyweight from her, he said, “Not to worry. I can do it.”
“Of course, your grace.”
The flint rasped and the flame popped up yellow and she stepped back, her eyes moving around the room. “This reminds me of home,” she murmured.
“How so?”
“All of the books.” She went across the way and touched some of the leather spines. “I love books. If I hadn’t been trained as an ehros, I would have wanted to be a sequestered scribe.”
She seemed so laid-back, he thought, and for some reason that made him anxious. Which was nuts. With the others, he’d felt like a lobster in the lobby of a seafood restaurant. With her, they were just two people talking.
“May I ask you something?” he said as he exhaled.
“Of course.”
“Are you here freely?”
“Yes.”
Her answer was so level, it seemed rote. “You sure about that?”
“I have long wanted to serve the Primale. I have been steadfast always in this desire.”
She seemed totally sincere… but something was off. And then he figured out what it was. “You don’t think I’m going to choose you, do you.”
“No.”
“And why is that?”
Now the emotion came out in her, her head dropping, her hands coming up, her fingers entwining. “I was brought here to see Master John Matthew through his transition. I did so, but he… denied me.”
“How?”
“After he’d been through the change, I washed him, but he denied me. I have been trained to serve sexually and was prepared to do so, and he denied me.”
Whoa. Okay. TMI. “And you think that means I won’t choose you?”
“The Directrix insisted that I come to you, but it was a measure of respect for you, to give you leave over all Chosen. Neither she nor I expect you to elevate me to First Mate.”
“Did John Matthew say why he didn’t…?” Because most males were horny as hell right after their changes.
“I left when I was asked to. That is all.” Her eyes flipped up to Phury’s. “Verily, the Master John Matthew is a male of worth. It is not in his nature to detail the faults of another.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t because of-”
“Please. May we depart from this subject, your grace?”
Phury exhaled a stream of coffee-scented smoke. “Fritz said you were up in Cormia’s room. What were you doing there?”
There was a long pause. “That would be between sisters. Of course, I would tell you… should you order me to do so.”
He couldn’t help but approve of the quiet reserve in her voice.
“No, that’s okay.” He was tempted to ask if Cormia was all right, but he knew the answer to that one. She wasn’t. Any more than he was.
“Would you like me to go?” Layla asked. “I know the Directrix has two of my sisters prepared for you. They are eager to come over and greet you.”