Chapter 5

Skye wasn't sure how she managed to stroll casually back into the formal salon. Inside she was a seething stew of... Actually she didn't know what was stewing inside. What she was certain of was that she'd never felt an ything like it.

Micha.

She'd glimpsed him at a distance, of course. When she'd come out of Peri's private rooms and joined the party, she'd seen the vampires dotted around the salon like aloof statues, surveying the crowd with a hint of disdain. Or maybe they'd been pretending to survey the crowd as they kept a wary eye on each other. Whatever the case, she'd been focused on calming her friend, not paying attention to the unwel come intruders.

It wasn't until Micha had followed her from the salon and she found herself up close and personal with the leech that she experienced the full impact of his presence. And what an impact it was.

Like all vampires, he was gorgeous. But it wasn't the elegant beauty of Valen or the dignified perfection of Gabriel. Micha's presence was like a punch to the gut, demanding a stunned sense of awe. In ancient days he had no doubt been worshipped. And even now she suspected he would cause riots on the street if he wa sn't a recluse.

Barely remembering to breathe, she had allowed her gaze to roam over the angular lines of his features. The proud thrust of his nose, the full, sensuous lips, the chiseled cheekbones, the wide brow, and the golden eyes that studied her with a terrif ying intensity.

This was the face of a warrior. A predator. A hunter who'd discovered his prey and was patiently wai ting to pounce.

She should have been frightened. Vampires might pretend to be civilized, but they considered themselves above laws and basic morality. As far as they were concerned, they were the chosen species and everyone must bow to their will.

But it wasn't fear that scoured through her, stripping her nerves until they felt raw. It was fierce, br utal awareness.

Thankfully, she'd spent her whole life hiding her emotions. First from her father and then from the demons who'd held her hostage. That experience allowed her to share a conversation with the magnificent male that had included more than dumbfounded grunts and sig hs of pleasure.

She was taking that as a win.

Heading directly toward Peri, Skye ignored the demons who chatted in loud voices and shoved one another aside in an effort to get closer to the vampires. Their antics were understandable since they depended on the goodwill of the leeches to maintain their ancient homes in the Gyre. And of course, many of them were hoping for a chance to become a meal for one of the vampires. Becoming a blood donor meant large amounts of cash and added social status. Or at least, that was what Skye ha d always heard.

With a grimace, she halted next to her friend. She'd been honest with Micha when she said that it usually wasn't this hard to shield herself. But then she usually wasn't squished in a relatively small space with dozens of royal demons and five members of the Vampire Cabal, who sent out pulse waves of thunderous power. It was no wonder s he was on edge.

"You look pale," Peri said, lifting her hand toward a uniformed servant standing across the room. The male with dark eyes and a brilliant red aura nodded before he promptly disappeared. "Valen promised to start clearing out the guests within the hour," she assured Skye. "You sh ould get home."

"What about you?" Skye demanded, trying not to reveal her relief at the thought of escaping from the party. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Peri swept a resigned glance over the mingling crowd. "Would you define okay as fantasizing about jumping out the nearest window and finding a sunny beach where no leech could ever find me?"

"Just another Friday night in the big city," Skye murmured.

"Something like that." Peri paused as the demon servant shoved his way through the crowd and handed Skye her long white cape that matched her gown. "Mercado can d rive you home."

"No need." Skye hastily declined the offer, unable to bear the thought of spending any more time in a confined space. "I need the fresh air and open sky."

"But—"

"I can take care of myself," Skye interrupted, leaning forward to sweep a kiss over her friend's cheek before Pe ri could argue.

Then, with grim determination, she battled her w ay to the door.

She would return tomorrow to make sure Peri wasn't being bullied, but first she needed a good night's sleep. And maybe one of Maya's calming potions, better known as a margarita...heavy on the tequila.

Once at the door, Skye retrieved the phone she'd dropped in the pocket of her cape. She wanted to pull up her transit app before leaving the building. She preferred to take a leisurely stroll to Penn Station, but she was willing to dash through the backstreets if there was a chance of getting an earlier train to Jersey. Her thumb hovered over the screen when she realized that she'd missed a dozen texts. All from an unf amiliar number.

With a frown she pressed the top message, a chill running down her spine as she read the words.

I'm in the city. Need to see you. Come to the pub Under t he Bridge ASAP.

Love, Dad

Dread crawled through Skye, leaving behind a nasty taste in her mouth. It didn't matter that it'd been fifteen years since she'd last laid eyes on Howard Claremont. Or that she was no longer the vulnerable young girl that he'd bartered off like a piece of property. Just the thought of him was enough to mak e her nauseous.

An icy awareness abruptly shattered the suffocating sense of doom. Skye lifted her head to discover Micha studying her with an unwavering intensity from across the room. Her breath tangled in her throat as she allowed herself to sink into the hypnotic power of his eyes. A portion of her unease faded and she brushed her fingers over the charms she'd coated with potent spells before leaving th e Witch's Brew.

She'd not only survived her past, she silently reminded herself, but she'd gained the sort of power that meant she no longer had to fear men like Howard Claremont. Not to mention the fact that she had friends who would destroy him without b linking an eye.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out of the apartment and headed for the private elevator. If she could face down Micha—one of the most powerful creatures in the world—then she could confront her father and tell him to crawl back under the rock he'd bee n hiding under.

Refusing to contemplate whether she was being an idiot for giving in to her father's demand for a meeting, Skye stepped out of the building and waved down a passing taxi. As much as she wanted to enjoy the night air, Under the Bridge was a notorious demon pub located near the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was too far to walk. Plus, it had the reputation of erupting into fights on a nightly basis and selling dragon scale powder to the more adventurous customers. She wanted to get in and out before the place descended into a messy brawl.

Less than an hour later, she was standing in front of the narrow redbrick building surrounded by broken asphalt and weeds. It wasn't directly beneath the bridge, but during the day it was shrouded in the shadows from a massive pier. And she assumed the demons liked the play on the old nursery tale about the troll un der the bridge.

Forcing herself to walk forward, Skye ignored the loud music and coarse shouts that spilled through the open doorway. With any luck she would be in and out of the pub before she was noticed by the locals. Then finally she could head home and t umble into bed.

The image of being snuggled beneath a pile of blankets was beginning to form when a shadow abruptly detached from the side of the building to reveal a male goblin. He was dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt with a New York Yankees ball cap. He was tall enough that Skye had to tilt back her head to take in his massive form that towered over her, but the aura that surrounded him was a pale red. His ancestry was diluted with human blood, weaken ing his powers.

Assuming he was the bouncer who was there to intimidate the customers into taming their most violent tendencies, Skye ignored his lingering gaze as she step ped around him.

Without warning, his arm shot out to block her path. "Sorry, babe, this is a private club."

"I'm me eting someone."

"Meet them somewhere else." He took a slow survey of the expensive cape that swirled around her and the pearl-encrusted shoes. "We don't serve y our kind here."

She heaved an impatient sigh. He thought she was a human. "I don't want trouble," she assured him. "Ju st move aside."

The demon narrowed his eyes as he leaned down until their noses were nearly touching. "Are you deaf? You can't come in."

"Demons," she muttered, arching away from the nasty smell of cigarettes that clung to his skin. "Always the hard way."

"You want it the hard way?" The man reached down to cup the front of his jeans. "I'll give i t to you hard."

Sexual threats were always the go-to favorite for bullies with more brawn than brains. Skye slowly smiled. It was luck more than foresight that urged her to load a curse onto one of the charms on her bracelet. It wasn't as nasty as the ones that Peri could brew, but it would cover him in painful hives for the next few hours. Long enough for her to do her business and be safely back at th e Witch's Brew.

Brushing the crow-shaped charm, Skye was on the point of releasing the curse when another male suddenly appeared in the doorway. This one was several inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter, but his aura pulsed with a deep rose color. He was several steps above the bouncer in the d emon hierarchy.

"Miles," he growled, obviously in charge. "Stop."

"Why?" The demon's square face flushed with annoyance at being interrupted. "I'm going to teach this b itch a lesson."

With a shocking speed, the smaller male had Miles slammed against the side of the building, his forearm pressed against the broad chest to keep him p inned in place.

"She's the mage we were expecti ng, you idiot."

"Seriously?" Miles glared over the smaller man's shoulder at Skye. "She doesn't loo k like a mage."

"I gave you the phot o to memorize."

Skye grimaced. She assumed her father had mentioned he was waiting for someone, but it was creepy to think the demons passed around a picture of her.

"That was hours ago," Miles whined. "How was I suppose d to remember?"

The older demon muttered a few foul words before lowering his arm and stepping back.

"Return to the kitchens and tell Gorman that I made a mistake in promoting you."

Miles stared at him in di sbelief. "But—"

His words were cut short as the leader deliberately turned his back on him to offer Skye a tight smile.

"Follow me."

Skye waited for the male to enter the pub before trailing behind him at a cautious distance. Was this a trap? It was hard to imagine that anyone would be foolish enough to risk Valen's wrath by trespassing into his territory and attacking his mate's best friend. You might as well put a target on your back and wait to be executed.

Then again, her father hadn't been overly blessed with brains. And there was a real possibility that he had no idea what she'd been doing with her life since she'd esca ped her prison.

Glancing around the narrow room, Skye counted a dozen demons leaning against the bar that ran the length of the space, their attention focused on guzzling the mugs of ale the bartender was serving as fast as he could move. All of them were low-ranking goblins, with a couple of fairies hidden in the gloom at the very ba ck of the room.

Music blared from the speakers set in every corner, and a dim light spilled from the open-beamed ceiling, giving the illusion it was just another dive bar in the city. It was only the glowing auras and the sharp intensity of the emotions pounding through the air that assured her she was surrou nded by demons.

Shuddering at the effort of once again protecting herself from the onslaught, Skye allowed herself to be led to a booth on the opposite side of the room. The demon stepped aside, and clenching her teeth, Skye reluctantly slid onto the wooden bench and glanced at the man who sat a cross from her.

Howard Claremont was a tall, slender man with light brown hair that matched his eyes and movie star features. Once upon a time, that face had made women sigh in pleasure. Including Skye's mother.

Tonight, he looked older than his fifty years. Even in the shadows Skye could see that his eyes were bloodshot and a haggard weariness stooped his shoulders. With an obvious effort, he curved his lips into a smile and reached across the table, as if hoping she would grasp his hand.

Deliberately she leaned away, pressing her back against the wall behind her. "Howard."

He winced at her cold tone. "Howard? Is it so hard t o call me Dad?"

She blinked. Was he joking? "Impossible," she assured him. "Why are you in New York? And how did you get my number?"

The smile faltered, but Howard Claremont was a born showman. He'd run away from his home when he was sixteen to join a circus and risen through the ranks from cleaning the animal cages to becoming the ringmaster. At one point he'd even been contacted by an agent to audition for a film in Hollywood. It was only his love for gambling that had destroyed his profitable career. Kicked out of the circus, he'd joined a traveling carnival where he'd met a beautiful young fortune teller. Skye doubted her father had intended to stay with the carnival, or her mother, until she announced sh e was pregnant.

"I wanted to see my daughter." Howard broke into Skye's dark thoughts, not answering her question of how he'd managed to get her private number. Instead, he pointed toward the bottle of cheap wine that was half- empty. "Drink?"

Skye wrinkled her nose. "No."

"Tea?"

"No."

Howard leaned back, his fingers tapping on the top of the table as he studied her. Was he trying to decide the best way to convince her to do what he wanted? Because that's what he did. Man ipulate people.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Why should I? " she demanded.

"I did raise you after your mother died." There was a hint of censure in his voice. "Surely I get some cr edit for that?"

"Credit?" She blinked. "Are you serious? Why would you get credit for raising y our own child?"

"I could have dumped you int o foster care."

She shook her head in disbelief. Howard Claremont took first prize in worst father ever. He really did.

"Instead you sold me to a horde of demons," she reminded him in sharp tones.

He stuck out his lower lip in what was supposed to be a charming pout. "I didn't know they were demons," he protested, only to shrug when she narrowed her eyes at the blatant lie. "At least n ot right away."

"I was twelve."

"They needed your services," he said, as if that explained why any parent would hand over their child to a gang of violent criminals. "And they promised you wou ldn't be hurt."

"They held me prisoner and forced me to use my gift for their pe rsonal profit."

A flush crawled over Howard's face. Was he capable of feeling shame for what he'd done to her? Or just embarrassed at being called ou t for his sins?

"No one's perfect ," he muttered.

Skye bit back her sharp retort. This man was a narcissist who saw the world from his own narrow vision. Nothing mattered beyond his comfort and pleasure. Not eve n his daughter.

She couldn't change that, but that didn't mean she couldn't keep him o ut of her life.

"I paid your debt," she informed him in icy tones. "And in return I told you I never wanted to see you again. It was a simpl e transaction."

"I have left you alone," he insisted, grabbing the bottle of wine to pour himself a large glass of the dark liquid. He drained it in one gulp before returning the empty glass to the table. Then, clearing his throat, he finally got to the point of why they were sitting in the noisy demon pub. "But now I 'm in trouble."

Skye rolled her eyes. Of course he was. "And?"

"And I n eed your help."

"What sort of help?"

There was a tense pause before Howard leaned forward. "I'm having some money proble ms and I need—"

"I knew this would be a waste of time," Skye sharply interrupted his plea for a handout, scooting ou t of the booth.

She had plenty of money, but she wasn't stupid. The minute her father believed she could be a steady source of income was the minute he would become a perpetual intruder in her life. Like a barnacle she could n't scrape off.

"Skye, I'm serious," Howard rasped, hurriedly wiggling his way across and off the bench to sta nd next to her.

"So am I," she warned, stepping back as he tried t o grab her arm.

His bloodshot eyes glittered with his first genuine emotion. Fear. "Th ey'll kill me."

"A shame, but I have no doubt you brought on whatever terrible fate is wa iting for you."

He blinked, as if caught off guard by her stubborn refusal to be swayed by his dramatic claim.

"You don't care if I die?"

Did she? Skye took a moment to consider the question. It was true that he'd kept her with him after her mother's death. At least until he found a way to make money off her. Maybe she should feel some grief at the thought that he might be in danger. But honestly, he might as well be a stranger.

She had no feelings for him, one way or another.

"As I said. It's a shame." She shrugged, preparing to bring an end to the unwanted meeting. "But it's not my problem. The only reason I came here was to make sure you understood that I don't want you in my life. Don't ever con tact me again."

"Skye." Without warning, her father lunged forward and grasped her upper arm. "I'm so sorry."

Skye eyed him in confusion. "S orry for what?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. A prickle of heat wrapped around Skye. A demon was approaching. One who possessed enormous power.

Cautiously she turned her head, discovering the two fey she'd spotted at the back of the pub had crossed the narrow space to stand directly behind her. One was short, barely taller than herself, with deep-red hair chopped short and green eyes. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and jogging pants, as if he was trying to blend into the shadows. His aura was green, but no more than av erage strength.

It was his companion who was giving off the pulse waves of power.

Allowing her gaze to skim over the taller male, Skye took an instinctive step away. Most fey creatures were lovely. This male was exquisitely beautiful with satin-smooth skin and pale green eyes with flecks of jade. His golden hair was long enough to brush his shoulders and he had a golden stubble on his chiseled jawline. His lean body was shown to perfection in a tight, emerald-green turtleneck and black jeans that molded to his long legs.

There was something oddly familiar about the elegant features, but she didn't think she'd seen him before. This wasn't the sort of male you would forget. Still, there was something in the manner he peered down the narrow length of his nose and the half smile that played around his lips that stir red her memory.

Skye didn't bother to try to pinpoint the vague sense of recognition. She was far more interested in the aura that surrounded the fairy. It was a deep green, revealing his bloodlines were royal, but it was the jagged streaks of silver running through the glow that captured her attention. It looked like lightning danc ing around him.

She'd never seen an ything like it.

Unease trickled down her spine as she turned back to glare at her father. "This was a trap? " she demanded.

He tried to look apologetic, but he couldn't disguise his relief that his part in the nefarious plot to lure her to this pub was presumably co ming to an end.

"I had no choice."

"We always have a choice." She shook her head in disgust. "You consistently make the wrong one."

Glancing over her shoulder, Howard abruptly released her arm, then without bothering to say sorry or goodbye or hope you don't die, he was ducking his head and power walking his way to the front door.

Jerk.

It was only as she reluctantly turned to face the two fairies that Skye realized her father wasn't the only one who was fleeing for the exit. Obviously there had been some sort of signal. One that abruptly cut off the music and slammed shut the front door as the last of the demons scurried into the dark.

The unease intensified to anxiety as she realized she was alone with the strange males. Not that she was helpless. She might not be the most powerful mage, but she had the spells loaded onto her charms, along with a can of pepper spray in her purse. Plus, she had a phone she could use to call Valen if th ings got crazy.

Always assuming she wasn't dead before he could rush to the rescue, a voice whispered in the ba ck of her mind.

Grimly refusing to panic, Skye tilted her chin to a defiant angle. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me, I forget we haven't been formally introduced." The taller male who was obviously the leader bowed his head, his odd scent of copper cutting through the thick stench of sweat and beer that tainted the b ar. "I'm Lynx."

Skye frowned. "Shou ld I know you?"

"Not personally. But you were a treasured guest of my horde when you were younger."

Red-hot anger joined the anxiety that vibrated through her. There was only one horde she'd spent time with, although she hadn't been a guest. She'd been their captive for ten long years.

She glared at Lynx, not bothering to hide her aversion to his presence. "I don't remember you."

"You wouldn't. I didn't absorb your demons into my horde until a couple of years ago."

"They weren't my demons ," she snapped.

Lynx shrugged. "Don't underestimate your worth to them. Once you left, the demons lost their main source of income and spiraled into poverty. Eventually they decided they needed a change in leadership."

"And Dexter?" Skye asked, referring to the large goblin who'd been in charge while she was a prisoner.

"He was offered the opportunity to join me or have his head chopped off. He went with the head-choppi ng-off option."

Skye sucked in a sharp breath. She shouldn't be shocked by the fairy's casual indifference to beheading a competitor. Most demons relished the opportunity to crush an opponent. Whether in the gladiator-style battles that flourished in underground clubs or in business. And really, she should be happy at the knowledge Dexter was dead, right? The creep had made her life a misery. But it wasn't relief that was creating icy chills that inched down her spine.

She didn't know anything about Lynx, but she was absolutely certain he was a thousand times more dangerous than Dexter had ever been.

Absently brushing a finger over her charms, Skye mentally judged the distance to the front door and the time it would take to reach it. She needed to get out of there, the soo ner the better.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, keeping the male distracted as she took a st ep to the side.

"I have an offer."

"No." She too k another step.

Lynx arched a brow in surprise. He was no doubt used to having women fall all over themselves in an effort to please him.

"You haven't he ard the offer."

Another step. "I have a job."

Lynx smiled, oozing charm. "Perhaps I wasn't clear. My fault. Let me rephrase my words. This is more a demand t han a request."

Skye snorted. Arrogant ass. Did he assume that her lack of magical firepower made her an easy victim? He was about to discover that was a s erious mistake.

"You can demand all you want. I'm n ot interested."

His smile remained, but his eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Your father's life depends on you r cooperation."

Ah. He was stupid enough to think that she gave a crap what happened to Ho ward Claremont.

Skye took another step to the side, giving her a clear path to the door. "I came tonight to give my father a warning. I've told him what I needed to say. Now I'm leaving. With or without yo ur permission."

A silence filled the pub as Lynx studied her with a hint of curiosity. "I was told you were as meek as a mouse and willing to do anything to protect your father," he mused. "Instead I find a hissing kitty who refuses to behave . Interesting."

Meek as a mouse? Skye continued to stroke her charms, magic dancing over her fingers as she was forced to recall the years she'd spent in an isolated prison, her only visitors the clients who'd paid a fortune in the hopes she could offer them a glimpse of the future. She'd accepted that she had no choice but to work until she could pay off her father's debt, but there'd never been anything meek about her.

"This kitty has claws and I promise you that I'll never be a slave to the demons again."

There was throbbing sincerity in her voice that Lynx couldn't miss.

"Slave?" Lynx clicked his tongue, as if offended by her words. "I don't need a slave," he assured her.

"Then wha t do you want?"

"I n eed an escort."

Skye was confused. "An es cort for what?"

"Come with me and find out." A gentle power drifted over her, as if Lynx was using his fairy magic to try to compel her to be nd to his will.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"I suppose we'll have to do this the hard way." Lynx shrugged, the silver lights in his aura shimmering with a sudden pulse of power. "A pity. I prefer us to be friends." He ran a slow survey over her delicate features. "Perhaps more than friends."

"Gah." Skye tossed her curls. "Never in a million years."

Lynx chuckled, as if amused by her disgust. "You truly are a fascinating creature, Skye Claremont." He held out a slender hand. "We don't have to be enemies. Let's work together."

Okay. Eno ugh was enough.

She was tired from her recent battle in the theater, not to mention the night spent in a crowded room with demons and vampires. Her psychic powers were drained, leaving her unable to use her most potent weapons.

Which meant she had to depend on her br ains to escape.

"Hell will freeze over before that happens." Lifting her arm, Skye murmured ancient words of power, tapping into the ma gic of a charm.

The magic sizzled through her veins, the scent of laurel leaves wafting through the air. Her curls danced on the power that swirled around her, and feeling the spell snap into place, she slashed her hand toward Ly nx's smug face.

With a muttered profanity, the fairy instinctively ducked as the magic sizzled over his head. It was exactly what Skye had been expecting and with a stab of satisfaction she heard the sharp shattering of glass. Sprinting across the narrow space, Skye prayed the demons were caught off guard by her unexpected decision to use the window rather than the front door.

It was her best ho pe of escaping.

"Yugan, stop her!" L ynx called out.

Skye didn't glance back. Her slippers were slick against the wooden floor, but thankful she didn't have on high heels, she grabbing the gauzy material of her long gown and hiked it up to her waist as she made the last mad dash. Just a few mo re steps and...

There was a blur of movement before the shorter fairy landed directly in front of her, his ar ms spread wide.

"Stop."

Skye skidded to a halt, once again raising her arm. This time she spoke the words in a loud voice, using a burst of magic to create a shimmering glow aro und her charms.

The male threw up his hands, protecting his face from the incoming spell. The instinct left him wide open to a more mundane attack, and Skye didn't hesitate as she lifted her foot and kicked him square be tween the legs.

Maya had trained both Peri and Skye in the art of self-defense. Magic was all well and good, but there were times when you needed to be able to protect yours elf without it.

Yugan gasped as her blow landed with enough force to drive him backward, his hands lowering to cover his injured balls as his face flushed with a combination of pain and fury.

Skye didn't hang around to enjoy his agony. Already she could feel a prickle of power forming behind her. Lynx was going to take matters into his own hands.

Still holding up her skirts, Skye darted around the male who was groaning in pain and, for the second time in two days, leaped through a busted window, landing on her back with enough force to drive the air from her lungs.

Crap.