slid her past me. Her ponytail swished, brushing my arm. Real hair. God. She smelled like honey and sin and something else.
Rye took her in the back room. He’d shoot her up with earth magic. His own. He’d tell her it would make her feel at one with the planet, or some stupid line.
“Phaedra.” Her name reached me. A whisper. A kiss. I could hear her even over the blaring music and the shouts of the crowd.
“Follow them,” J.C. said again. “This one might be interesting.”
“Cover section three,” I said over the radio. Topher nodded my way. He stood guarding the closest hallway near the restrooms. I scanned the crowd one last time. There was the usual groping going on as patrons tried to touch the dancers in the cages. A few threw tokens at their feet. The girl in the cage nearest me leaned down, letting her breasts nearly spill from her top as she picked up the tokens and slid them into her waistband.
I sensed hunger, but no danger. Nothing high-level. Nothing Topher and the others couldn’t handle. I turned my back on the dancefloor and headed for Rye and Phaedra.
Laughter. Hers. Was she actually having a good time? I sensed no lust from her toward Rye. But there was something about her. Not fear. Agitation. Adrenaline.
Rye had partially closed the curtain separating the common areas from what J.C. liked to call the Goodie Room. Through the one-inch gap, I could see Rye had Phaedra at the bar. She sat on a stool, leaning toward him. He took a vial of earth magic from the black and gold tank behind him. I watched him draw the syringe. Phaedra gasped. Her whole body quivered. With my wolf eyes, I could see the tiny hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Gooseflesh covered her skin.
Want. Need.
Rye took her hand, turning it to expose her wrist. Tender skin and veins. One prick and he’d promised her the world.
That’s when I saw it. A tiny flash. Her spine...glowed. Just a split second. If I hadn’t been staring straight at her. If I hadn’t tuned myself to her…
I don’t remember moving or taking a step. I don’t remember even forming a coherent thought. I knew the second Rye pricked her skin, he might see what I saw.
My claws came out. I let out a growl and tossed Rye against the wall. The vial slipped from his grasp. I crushed it with my foot.
Phaedra staggered backward, knocking over the stool. From the corner of my eye, I saw it again. Just a flash. Fire. Whatever she was trying to do, it wasn’t working. Her magic was starting to come out.
“The hell is wrong with you?” Rye shouted as he recovered.
“Boss changed his mind,” I lied. Thankfully, J.C. didn’t have eyes in this room. “That weak shit won’t cut it with this one.”
That weak shit was Rye’s own magic. She was covering well, but this chick had already borrowed some fire magic. What the hell was she thinking? Mixing the two could kill her. Not on my damn watch. How the hell had Rye missed it?
“You should get the hell out of here,” I said to the girl. “You want to play with fire? Do it somewhere else, kid.”
She straightened her shorts. With those heels, she came up to my nose. She had to be five eight, five nine then. Strong, too. She had flat, toned abs. Only the nails, the hair, screamed rich girl, not fighter.
“I think I’m a better judge of what I can handle,” she said. Defiant. Damn. The fire in her burned strong. How the hell had Rye let this one slip through? We had rules. Nobody comes into the Golden Taurus already spell-high. J.C. sourced his own magic. That way, nothing could go wrong. Or at least if it did, we could get a handle on it before anyone else knew. His fucking business model. He never missed the opportunity to remind me of it.
“Party’s over,” I said to her. “Come on.”
I took her by the arm. Her damn heat seared me. Fucking Rye. It was so obvious. He licked her, for God’s sake. As soon as I got her out of here, we were going to have words.
“This way,” I said. She jerked her hand away from me, but followed. I led her down the hall to a separate exit. No way I wanted her storming back through the main club.
“You need a chaperone back to wherever