battered her around—she just held on until she couldn’t anymore. Everyone knows female phoenixes have more power than the males, but Hollace says she’s also one of the oldest and most vicious of the females. Her soul has been around for ages.”
The link with Austin sparkled with pride. “And now both of the alphas of this territory have taken her down.”
“I’m not so sure I could do it again,” I said.
“Ah, would ye schtawp.” Niamh gave the ceiling a long-suffering look.
“Was that English?” I asked with a grin.
“Janie Mack, ye’re driven me mental, so ye are. Go have dinner. Austin Steele, if ye’re goin’ta have all these people in this bar all the time, ye’re gonna need more bartenders.”
A woman in her early twenties staggered a little as she climbed the steps from the lower area with the pool table and the bathrooms to the main bar area, from which the pool table had been removed a while ago to create space for the crowds. Been there, done that. She was one of the Janes and definitely a tourist.
I sipped my wine, nearly finished, losing sight of her within the throng of people.
“Are you over capacity?” I asked, pulling my fingers from Austin’s pocket and tracing them up his hard side.
He glanced around, taking in the crowd. I caught sight of the woman again, all hips and breasts, her miniskirt barely covering her crotch and her tube top covering just a strip of her middle. Her jewelry glittered, layered on her chest. I watched, transfixed like a magpie, an effect of my exhaustion. I could think of at least three outfits I had that would look great with that collection of jewelry. If only it was in vogue to steal so I wouldn’t have to go shopping.
It didn’t dawn on me that she had drifted a little too close until Austin stiffened, curling his hand around my far shoulder and turning, using body language to advertise that he was with me. I looked at her face; her makeup was a bit smeared from heavy drinking and her lips twisted in a hungry though taunting sort of way.
“Mmm, I like me an older man,” she purred, slowing.
I could feel my eyebrows lowering and wondered if she thought that was a flattering thing to say, calling Austin an older man. Didn’t men take that as the insult women had been taught to?
But when her gaze roamed his broad shoulders, dipped to his defined chest, evident even through his nondescript cotton top, and settled on his package, the logical part of my brain dimmed. Rage as hot as Cyra’s magma bubbled up out of nowhere. My whole being throbbed with it, pulsing with power.
My scope of vision reduced down to the woman, turning a little as she slunk by, her fingertips trailing across her cleavage, tinkling those stylish necklaces. Her predatory gaze darted to me.
She had no idea what a predator really was.
She had no idea who she was challenging.
I pushed Austin away and stood from my seat, power pumping, ballooning out. That distant part of me, the logical part, screamed at me to stop. To control the magic. To reel it back in.
I shouldn’t reveal my power to so many innocent bystanders, and I definitely couldn’t go after a Jane!
But none of that would register.
My wings itched at my back, my gargoyle threatening to claw its way out, and a pinkish-purple sheen vibrated into being around my body, trailing my movements.
I could have sworn a bell rang in the distance. A death knell. I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, or if Ivy House was fueling the fire, telling me to protect what was mine.
Mine.
A stocky woman with white-blonde hair—Isabelle—stepped forward suddenly and rammed into the younger woman, knocking her sideways into a crowd of male shifters watching the scene with grim faces. She screamed as she tried to correct on four-inch stilettos, but the excessive alcohol hindered her movements. She scrabbled at one of the shifters as she fell, trying to grasp an arm or a hand.
The man, a newer guy I’d seen patrolling the streets in jeans and a white shirt, pulled his hands away and stepped back, getting out of her way. The others followed suit, letting her fall.
“Oh my God, what the hell?” the woman demanded, fighting with her long, wavy blonde hair as she tried to look around.
“He’s taken,” Isabelle said, looking down on her.
“You bitch,” the woman yelled, pushing to her knees, but Isabelle was