Werewolves Be Damned - By Stacey Kennedy Page 0,29
right now, in a room full of wolves. She knew they weren’t supposed to be bad, but that didn’t change the fact that they had a habit of attacking—and sometimes killing—people.
Instead of hoping for the impossible with the booze, she scanned the dance floor, trying to find the killer that Foley’s partner tracked to the club. Inside the classy lounge, tables were scattered in front of the stage at the back, and couples swayed to the beat on the dance floor before the blues-rock band.
The longer she studied the werewolves, the more questions rose in her mind. In the nightclub, mostly werewolves attended, but there were a few mortals, all of whom looked out of place, uncomfortable even.
Needing clarification, she turned to Kyden next to her. “At the vampire club it seemed so energized with…” She paused, her cheeks warming, then she finally gave up trying to find an easier way to say energized with lust. “Everyone tonight seems like they’re in love and no one seems at all interested in the humans. Why is that?”
Kyden’s mouth curved in his sexy way. “Most of the couples are destined mates and carry a deep bond forged by their magic.”
Perhaps with their near kiss attempt tonight made her all very needy, since seeing all the couples around her, brought forth a sense of almost…jealousy. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she studied a couple on the dance floor who embraced each other in a way that illustrated Kyden’s words.
Intense passion all but dripped off the air. When she looked to Kyden, he stared at her with something similar, causing her body to flush. She cleared her throat. “Guardians don’t have this type of thing, right?”
He shook his head, leaned against the bar, and the soft lights above accentuated his six-pack. “Our bond is based on love, not on a soul-deep connection like werewolves. But we do have a ceremony that magically bonds guardian mates and deepens the relationship.”
Her lips parted to ask what exactly that meant in normal talk, when she spotted a familiar face over his shoulder. She squinted, wanting to be sure she saw this right, but her eyes didn’t betray her. “He’s there.”
Kyden didn’t hesitate. He spun on his heel and rushed the werewolf. Nexi had never seen him move so fast, and she liked—a lot—that he took her word without investigating himself if she had the right person.
Not giving the man the chance to run, Kyden had him by the throat with one hand while the other gripped the werewolf’s shoulder. Struggling against Kyden’s hold, the werewolf attempted to free himself, as Kyden shoved the wolf backward to the far side of the club.
Nexi hurried after him, watching the werewolves in the club glancing their way before each and every one ignored the commotion. She wondered if anyone would protect the werewolf—one of their own—from Kyden, but no one moved to help him. Clearly, they didn’t mess with Otherworld business.
Staying right on Kyden’s heels, and unable to tear her eyes off his flexing back muscles under the force of disabling the werewolf, she followed him down a long hallway. Only a few steps later, he entered a room off to the right.
When Nexi stepped over the threshold, she wasn’t surprised by the private lounging area with the small silver tables scattered throughout, or the low, intimate lighting. However, she was sure as shit flabbergasted by the werewolves on the circular bench.
The nude werewolf straddled the male werewolf’s lap, moaning deeply with her head thrown back. Nexi groaned in discomfort. Kyden pushed the killer to the floor, kneeled on his back, then he looked to her with a smile.
Her face heated all the way up to her hairline and she looked away, avoiding Kyden’s awareness of her embarrassment. Glancing to the cavorting wolves, she said in a loud clear voice, “Sorry to interrupt.”
Both jerked their heads toward her. The woman’s eyes widened and with a gasp, she was on her feet, totally buck-ass nude. She grabbed her clothes from the floor, then ran out of the room with a face burning brighter than Nexi’s. Which Nexi thought was ridiculous, wasn’t as if the door had been locked.
Besides, having sex in some club—even a fancy one—didn’t spell romance. Not that Nexi had much experience in that department. Still, if being a supernatural meant sweaty sex in a nightclub with a stranger, she’d rather be labeled a mortal, who had morals.
Glancing away from the door the woman had vanished through, she