does.
I release Grim’s arm and stalk over to Gunnar. “I want to know where Vanessa is, Kitten, and I want to know right now.” I pat my hand over his impressive chest, stroking over the muscles concealed under his shirt.
“I’ll find out,” Gunnar assures me quickly. “Give me an hour.” He grabs the back of my head and fuses his mouth to mine. All my pent-up energy and anger coils out of me as I dig my fingernails into his heavy shoulders, and kiss him back with just as much aggression as he’s offering.
Our teeth hit more than once, but I don’t even care. When he pulls away, I bite his chin roughly for denying me, then shove his chest. Gunnar stumbles back, drawing his hand over his mouth and chin with a feral sneer on his face.
“Go, now!” I order, even more pissed because I let him distract me for those few precious seconds. In the next breath, he’s gone, nothing but his lingering scent to tell me he was even here.
I face the others, daring them to say a word about the kiss. Grim has his head tilted to the side, while Calix has his hands shoved deeply into his front pockets. Their faces are smooth without any sign of censure to be seen.
I was expecting some kind of disapproval, instead, Calix asks, “Where should we look for her?” My thoughts go right back to Aeson. She’s just so tough, I can’t imagine her ever letting Vanessa, or someone from her coven, get close enough to be a threat.
I grab my hair and tug it backwards. “I don’t know,” I reluctantly admit, and suddenly feel guilty, because I don’t know enough about her. “We talked all the time, but she always kept it vague. I know she has a penchant for leather and never has less than five men in her life at once, but I don’t even know where she lived.”
I’ll get word to her band that she isn’t here. Her disciples are already looking for her. The veterans are conducting business as usual so as not to draw attention to her absence. Samson steps forward on one huge, black paw, preparing to leave.
“Thank you, Samson, for coming to me,” I tell him earnestly.
You’re welcome, Dami. I will return if I hear anything. Try not to worry about the Brownie; I don’t know many fiercer. Samson lumbers out of the living room to disappear the same way he arrived.
“I think I should check in with Rocky and the guys. I’m not sure if they’ll know anything, but it couldn’t hurt. Will you be able to stay with Damiana?” Calix looks to Grim for an answer.
“I don’t need anyone to babysit me.” My hackles rise at the implication that I would.
“I will not leave her unless one of you are present.” Grim ignores my comment and answers Calix.
“Okay, I won’t be long.” Calix drags a small set of keys from his front pocket and tosses them on the counter, then tugs his t-shirt off.
I forget about my argument of not being treated like a baby and watch as he drapes the fabric over one of my chairs.
“Uh, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” I question, when Calix reaches for the button of his pants.
“I can travel much quicker if I shift,” he replies, not missing a beat as he drags the zipper down.
A whole lot of tawny skin is showing, enough that a girl can’t take any blame as her thoughts scatter. Calix’s chest is covered in a light smattering of short hair, it’s a few shades darker than his light locks. His stomach is flat, and there’s no clear definition of abdominal muscles, yet his body screams masculinity.
He shucks the pants off quickly, not bothered in the least with my staring. I watch his hand move to the waist of what can only be described as a pair of tighty-whities, but damn, I ain’t ever seen a pair look so good. The material is tight enough that I can easily see his growing erection pushing against the fabric.
“Shifting, shifting.” I find myself repeating the words, but I’m definitely not thinking about him shifting into a Nemean lion. Not at all. My eyes are glued to Calix’s hands as he hooks his thumbs into the tight fabric and pushes it down enough that I can see where his body hair grows a little thicker, leading down to his dick.
“Don’t hurry back, Nemean.” At Grim’s words,