Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,16

look for Taran—something about her setting a sacred mountain shrine on fire, and bodies of witches are popping up all over the Nevada side.”

“Are you messing with me right now?” I ask. “Didn’t we just annihilate a zombie army a few weeks ago?”

“Is this a good time to remind you evil doesn’t care, Bren?” Koda barks back. “Genevieve is out-right pissed off. These witches aren’t part of her coven, but the head witches the dead belong to are demanding justice since it happened under Genevieve’s watch and our territory. It’s a political nightmare. Shayna’s coming with me to make sure I don’t snap someone’s broom in half and we can’t get a hold of Emme.”

My focus drifts back to Emme, and the growing number of weres gathered around her. They know she’s one of us, except most of them are looking at her like more than just an ally.

“Emme is with me,” I growl, at them.

Koda thinks I’m talking to him. “Good. Take her with you. She’ll keep your ass out of trouble.”

With that, he disconnects and I’m the one in charge.

“Hey,” the human in the white shirt yells. “Can we get some service here?”

The glare I peg him with knocks him off his stool, and he like, runs away. I roll my eyes and saunter over to the weres, taking control and showing these bitches (except for Emme) how it’s done.

“All right, pussies. Which one of you knows how to bartend?”

They blink back at me, evidently taken with my riveting speech. The werecheetah in a tight blue dress raises her hand. “Me and Grace used to work at a bar.”

“Close enough, come on up here, you’re on.”

“Seriously,” the hyena asks. “This is your plan?”

“No, dickless,” I say. I motion around. “You see all these humans?”

“Yeah?”

“They need protection and they need to stay here. Whatever is out there mutilated one of our kind. What do you think it’ll do to them?” I scan the group, searching for anyone looks somewhat bright. Except for the girls who agreed to bartend, none of them scream Rhodes Scholars. “You, you, you, and you. Take a team of three and hit the clubs along this strip. Most people around here are out for the night. Keep them safe.”

They nod as one and disperse. “What about us?” Houndstooth asked.

“Yeah,” Orange Polo says. “He’s a Leader and we’re just as strong as these guys.”

The hyena hears him and cackles on his way out. Under other circumstances, I’d laugh right along with him. Except, I’m supposed to be all motivational and shit. “You guys patrol the area. Hit the streets, the beach, the alleys. Anything you find that doesn’t look right, you call, get me? The world is counting on you.”

I don’t quite finish with a straight face. Except these guys, especially Houndstooth, are used to having their egos stroked. They take in my bull, allowing it to fill their lungs and puff their chests.

“Yes, sir,” they reply.

And fucking salute.

Really? How has nothing eaten them yet?

I leap over the bar and march toward the door. Emme’s voice glues me in place. “Bren? What about me?”

My throat warms, down to my stomach and further south. I spit the words out through my teeth. “Emme, you’re with me.”

I take off, faster than I intend, the need to keep some distance between me and Emme clouding my common sense. I practically plow through the bouncers at the door. They’re human so they don’t say shit. Figures the vamps at the door would take off without letting anyone know.

“Bren, wait,” Emme calls after me.

I force myself to stop at the corner. Emme reaches me, out of breath. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble keeping up.”

Of course, she is. She’s not Celia who can outrun my ass. “No, I’m sorry. I just…you know I’m not used to this leadership crap.”

She reaches for me, her two delicate hands giving mine a squeeze, and Jesus God, it’s all I can do not to have sex with her against the building.

My neck practically creaks with how slow I swivel my head. Strands of her long, blond hair spill away from the clip to skim her shoulders and face, that same face I touched and kissed not long ago. Why did I have to kiss her? Now, I just want to kiss her more.

“You’re doing great,” she says. She smiles apologetically. “I just don’t move as fast as you. Maybe it will be better if we take an Uber?”

“Werewolves don’t Uber,” I practically snarl.

Any human would run