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“I advertised an orgy on Craig's List, but then... An ex-boyfriend showed up and interrupted us. So it never happened.” I explained.

Remi had taken a sip of beer and snorted at the same time. His eyes watered as he laughed and wiped the beer that had come out of his nose. “Fuck, that burns.”

Hugo glanced over at his friend. “Never have I ever, stolen someone's gun and spray painted it pink.”

Remi looked at me, expectantly. “I’m new to the base, and even I know this story.”

“Shit!” I startled. Grabbing my shot. “Frankie—I did do that.”

Hugo's crystal blue gaze didn’t leave mine as I took the shot. Downing it with a hiss. For some reason, he was giving me an in-depth look that I didn’t understand. His inability to make eye contact had been stripped away by suspicion and curiosity.

Remi broke the tension. “Your turn Frankie.”

I umm-ed and ahh-ed for a few seconds. “Never have I ever been in love.”

We all drank.

“Deep.” Remi Weber nodded a sagely as he took a swig from his beer.

For the next few rounds, we both chose stupid shit. Like riding in a car, or eating caviar and listening to Bon Jovi. Before long, my head rested against Remi's shoulder, and my feet were propped on Hugo's lap. My combat boots had been discarded long ago, and the incubus rubbed my feet.

“You should be a masseuse.” I moaned as Hugo rubbed his thumb into the arch of my foot. Remi was playing Super Mario on his phone, occasionally glancing up when one of us Drunkies said something stupid.

“Masseur.” Remi corrected. “They’re called a masseur if they're a man.”

I wriggled and sighed as Hugo's touch made my feet feel like they were in heaven. Then without warning, Hugo dropped my legs and mumbled an apology as he ran to the bathroom like the hounds of Hell were on his tail.

“What’s his deal?” I asked, putting my feet back in my shoes. “I was enjoying that!” I shouted at Hugo Sinclair’s retreating figure.

Remi shook his head. “He’s celibate.”

I snorted.

“No, really.” He argued. “Davenport told me.”

“What kind of incubus is celibate?” I asked.

“He’s a Cambion. Half-human. He doesn’t need to feed. He doesn’t like hurting people.” Remi said.

My brow creased. “Hugo shouldn’t go against his nature.”

Remi turned in the booth to face me. He placed his phone on the sticky table, screen down. “And is what you're doing in your nature?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a sniper. Are you lining up your shot?” Remi asked, deadly serious.

“You think I'm trying to get Hugo into bed?” I turned back in the direction of the men's room.

Remi shrugged.

“You could join us?” I suggested with a husky voice as I leaned forward.

Heat flared in his eyes. Even though what I said had been a joke, Remington Weber looked like he liked that idea very much.

I pulled away with a laugh and patted his cheek. Because my host was well and truly drunk, I missed and patted his nose instead.

“Relax, you beautiful unicorn,” I assured him. “Davenport would kill me if I slept with any of his Hunters.”

Before Remi had a chance to reply, Hugo had come back to our table. Pink cheeks and a bit boneless.

My eyes widened. “Oh my god!” I squealed. “You just took care of business by yourself, didn’t you?!”

Hugo shot Remi an exasperated look over the top of my head as I exploded in a fit of giggles.

“I think we should get Mistress Tequila here home,” Hugo suggested dryly.

The corner of Remi's lip twitched. “Agreed.” The huge man dipped down and wrapped his arm around my waist. He maneuvered us both out of the booth, while Hugo looked on with glassy, drunk eyes. The incubus swayed slightly, but he seemed in command of his own body.

“I wanted to bring the rest of the bottle.” I pouted as we hit the cold outside air. Goosebumps raised on my arms, but I did not feel it. Alcohol was wonderful.

“She’s a bad influence.” Remi shook his head as we walked to the jeep.

I reached out like an infant seeking its mother, grabbing the sleeve of Hugo's shirt. “Hewey-baby, we should stick together. We're the same.”

Both of the men ignored my rambling as we crossed the lot.

A can rattled across the asphalt, and raucous laughter came from behind one of the pickups in the lot. A group of men crowded in the lot. One crushed a beer can to his forehead and screamed in triumph.

Remi started to divert our path away from the group, and Hugo followed.

“Hey, Fellas!” One of them shouted. “Look what we've got here!”

“Just keep walking, Remi.” Hugo murmured under his breath as both men stared forward like the strangers did not exist.

“They’re Civilians.” Remi clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’m not going to start anything.” His British accent became rougher around the edges and affected a cockney twang.

I glanced over my shoulder.

“Look at that fine dose of brown sugar!” A squad man on the edge hollered. His nose was crooked; his eyes were beady.

I turned on my heel and ducked under Remi's arm.

“What did you say to me?” I called out. Striding towards the group with my chin held high. I wasn’t offended. I was curious. I wanted to see what would happen if I pushed. Brown sugar? Did humans really care about the color of someone’s skin that much?

“You’re a fine piece.” One of the men whistled and stepped forward. Remi grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me back, but I shrugged him off.

I could taste their sins. They were harmless. Maybe a bit lustful, but I had met murderers and rapists—of the several men in the parking lot, none of them had the stones to do anything beyond throw a few punches.

“You want to take me home?” I stopped, cocking my hip and pouting. The men glanced at one another. I felt Hugo and Remi on each of my shoulders. Their hulking presence like dangerous coiled snakes ready to strike.

I made sure to face away from the Hunters as my eyes bled into black. My magic latched onto the drunken idiots like a whip around their throats. Their worst fears, nightmares, and regrets floated to the surface of their minds. The emotion behind them and the terror that made them want to curl into the fetal position and hideaway.

I hadn’t fed in a while, and their waking nightmares fuelled me. I felt more comfortable than I had in days.

“What the fuck are you?” the squat man scrambled away, grasping the handle to his pick up and failing to pull open the door.

Another man sobbed and pissed himself.

“Your worst nightmare!” I said with a bright smile and an evil cackle. Hugo and Remi tried to pull me away as the redneck’s car sped away from the lot with a squeal.

Two of the men that were left behind ran away, tripping like they had their pants around their ankles.

I slapped my hands together and commended myself on a job well done.

My darkness bled away from the whites of my eyes, swallowed by my pupil. I turned to Hugo and Remi—who both looked frozen.

“They're not blocking the car anymore.” I said cheerfully, still a bit drunk, but full of energy. “Should we get back to base?”

Both of my men nodded robotically, and we got in the car and drove back to camp.

Chapter 6

I never got my pizza. Instead, I got a hangover that felt like someone had pushed a railroad spike through my host's skull. I pressed the heel of my palms into my eye sockets and tried to make the room stop spinning. I was going to vomit.