anymore.
I hear approaching sirens and saunter to my bike, flinging my leg over and revving the engine as I stare at my phone, waiting.
Well done. Next contract in twelve hours.
Another hunt done, another scumbag dead. I watch the money flow into my account and laugh.
It’s time to celebrate.
The music pounds through me. Luckily, it’s at a decibel that doesn’t hurt my ears. The pluses of being at a supe club. Some know who I am as soon as I walk in and flee, some avoid me, and others don’t know who I am. I lose myself in their masses. I don’t drink, not ever—it makes you weak, vulnerable, slows down your reflexes—but for a minute, I let my eyes close and I tip my head back, listening to the notes that carry me away.
For a moment, in the writhing bodies of the supes around me, I’m not alone. I’m not a freak, a hunter, a council lackey…I’m Remi.
I feel it then, eyes on me. People avoid my gaze, avoid looking at me, even when they don’t know who I am. It’s a natural response to a predator, but not these eyes. I can feel their hunger, their lust as they lock on my moving body. I tilt my head and use my senses to locate the person—a man, I feel the masculine energy. Opening my eyes, I lock on him instantly. The crowd fades away, all the people around him too, as he stands on the balcony surrounding the dance floor. His hands grip the silver barrier in front of him, and his eyes are only for me, those dark orbs filled with something I can’t understand before it fades to pure fucking desire.
Grinning, I keep my eyes locked on him as I dance. He’s my prey for the night. The one who will replace the meaty dead wolf’s touch. I washed before I came, just because the smell of blood would get everyone riled up, and I slipped into a short, tight black dress. It’s backless, but it has plenty of room to hide weapons, even though they tried to take them from me at the door.
Like that would happen.
Eyes on the man, I move, dancing just for him. He’s good-looking. Not enough scars to get me dripping, but I would definitely sit on his face. He has long blond hair, hanging in waves to his shoulders. He has high cheekbones and a square jaw in an almost boyish face, but those black eyes, completely black, stand out. They’re almost out of place on his face. Inky, dark, hungry, and dangerous. He’s tall, and I can tell he’s got muscle under his shirt and jeans. But it’s those eyes I keep going back to, drawing me in like looking into death itself.
I don’t even know what he is. I try to sort through the scents, but there are too many here. Maybe a shifter? Vamp? No…no fangs. Demon? Maybe. Not that it matters. Tonight, he will be whatever I want him to be, with his cock in my pussy and his blood spilling under my nails.
I wind my hips, dragging my hands up my stomach to cup my breasts and squeeze before I slide them down to my thighs and start to pull up my dress. Those black eyes narrow, and he grips the railing and leaps over it. He lands on the edge of the dance floor without looking away or blinking. I smirk. Oh, this one will be fun.
The people around him back away, some even lowering their heads from the dominance flowing off him in waves. They bump into me, almost pushing me backwards. If I was a weaker shifter, I would be belly down right now, bowing to his power, but instead, I raise my head and keep dancing, teasing him, showing him he has no effect on me.
He might be used to others cowering, but me? Baby, please, I fuck death on the daily.
His lips tip up like he liked that, and he starts to walk towards me, cornering me and barring me in place even as I keep dancing. Everyone moves away, knowing two predators are here and focused on each other. They probably think we’ll fight, but that’s the best bit, fighting or fucking…or both. His dominance surges through me in waves with each step he takes, the swells growing stronger and stronger, pulling a gasp from my lips and a pulse from my pussy.
I’ve never felt power like this before, sheer