15. Kieran

"Don't you dare put on that black T-shirt!" Sam calls, and I roll my eyes on the other side of my bedroom door.

I turn back to the clothes I've spread out on the bed and pick up the black T-shirt in question, then toss it back in the direction of my wardrobe. Never mind, then.

The fact is, my heart isn't in it. I knew when I mentioned it that it was foolish at best, but I'd really thought for a minute there that Lucien might come along. Sure, the vampire probably sees me as nothing more than a child, but I can't help myself.

What would it be like to see buttoned-up Lucien in an environment like that?

I shake my head, trying to get myself back on track. We have a job to do tonight, and Lucien isn't coming. He's sending his turn, and I wonder for a moment what he's like, too. If Tristan shows, and I'm definitely less convinced than Sam that he will, then I need to have my head on straight so I can keep us all safe.

"Gods above, will you hurry up?" Sam shouts. He sounds closer, like he's just on the other side of the door.

I laugh to myself. I tug on the pair of tight jeans I've already picked out and snatch up a dark green vest that's been lingering in the back of a drawer. I'm pretty sure Sam bought it for me when he was going through one of his makeover binges. It's not mesh, but it's tight on me, pulling across my pecs and showing off my arms. The makeover binges are the reason we've got a flat-wide ban on any modelling reality shows on TV.

Now, Sam just watches those shows when I'm not around.

I run my hands through my dark hair, teasing the volume in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. I look… fine. Good. I tilt my head, making sure I've covered the scar on my throat properly. The makeup isn't quite the right shade considering all the time I've been spending inside recently, but it's passable.

When I open the door, Sam looks me over with a much more critical eye. In contrast to my subdued look, Sam's as out there as ever—he's wearing dark, ripped jeans and a mesh vest under a silky silver shirt. It's unbuttoned to his waist, showing off his slim build and the tattoos that crawl over his chest.

The only concession he seems to have made to our being on a mission tonight is the dark boots he's wearing. They're securely fastened just in case we need to run.

"Fine," Sam says after a moment, waving me off. He darts over to the table and grabs something, then tosses it to me.

I catch it, frowning down at the object in my hands. "Eyeliner?"

"Won't hurt." Sam grins. "You never know. He might still change his mind."

I dutifully trudge off to the bathroom to try not to poke myself in the eye. Sam's makeup is flawless, of course, and I'm sure he applied it all in the same amount of time it's going to take me to manage this.

Sure, I don't know shit about magic, but Sam's made it clear he'll be well-armed going into the club tonight—that he always is because spell ingredients aren't really something he has to deal with. What has me more worried is that there's not a chance in hell I can sneak a weapon inside.

I eye my reflection, blinking away a tear where I might have accidentally gone a bit too heavy-handed, and Sam appears in the bathroom doorway. When he tilts his head, highlight shimmers on his cheekbones.

"Good," he says, and his expression is more approving. "He'll fall over himself trying to get to you."

"He's not coming. And I don't want—" I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."

When I lift my head again, Sam's eyes meet mine in the mirror. "Yeah, okay." He doesn't believe me. "Come on, in here."

We stand in the centre of the living room, and I feel as Sam taps into his magic, a buzz filling the air. "It'll just be a little more intense than what you usually feel," he says. His expression is one of concentration, but he doesn't sound at all strained by what he's doing. "Tristan should be able to follow your scent more easily this way. For the mage, it'll be like a beacon."

"Won't she know what you've done?"

"No." Sam twists his hands in the air, as though he's shaping something. "She shouldn't know how to do this at all. I got the idea from Pris."

"What?"

"The opposite of her scent-reducing things. Hold still."

I stay where I am, hands slightly lifted from my sides. The buzzing increases to a hum, and magic tingles over my skin. Pris's scent-reducing things are spell pouches, designed to neutralise or hide the wearer's scent. They're only really useful against wolves, what with how much they rely on their sense of smell.

Magic descends over me like a cool blanket, and all of my skin prickles for a moment until it's gone. Sam lets out a satisfied sigh, rocking back on his heels.

"That'll do it," he says. He looks me over again, eye as critical as before, but this time, I know it's not me he's seeing.

After a second, he nods. "Come on. We don't want to miss the bus."

I follow him out of the flat. Even with the bus, it takes us half an hour to get to Bite, and the queue outside surprises me. Sam grins when my eyes widen.

"Yeah, it's a popular place. Humans have figured out all the hotties are here."

We join the queue, some appreciative looks sent my way, but even more to Sam, who ignores the lot. He's definitely not celibate, though he tends not to bring guys home. As far as I can tell, he never spends the night with the same man twice.

I scan the crowds on the street—some joining the queue for Bite, others heading to other bars or clubs—and Sam stays beside me, his magic tightly leashed. When the group ahead of us gets in, I fish my ID out of my pocket. Sam seems to be entirely at ease as the wolf bouncer checks his and makes sure he's not bringing in anything he's not supposed to.

I do my best to keep my sudden uneasiness in check. I've barely seen a vampire around since coming to London, but I've gone out of my way to avoid wolves. There's no reason I should be able to recognise what he is, except when he hands me my ID back, I see his nostrils flare, and he tilts his head to one side.

"Don't cause any trouble," he says and waves me through.

Sam brushes my elbow as I reach the counter where he's already paid. "All good?" he murmurs. His voice is low enough that I know even the wolf I'm paying can't hear him.

"Yeah. Let's go."

We walk through the double doors and into the club. For a moment, as my eyes adjust to the flashing light and the thumping bass passes through me, I can't breathe. This place is packed to the rafters with wolves, and the pulse of power almost overwhelms me.

I've never been surrounded by so many, and certainly not since—

"Deep breath," Sam says against my ear. His hand is tight on my arm.

I suck in a breath in a rush and force my shoulders to relax. When I'm breathing a little easier, I turn so I'm looking at Sam, and not wide-eyed at the room.

"Thanks," I mutter. It comes out strangled. "I'll be fine."

Sam looks like he doesn't believe me. I hold his gaze until he nods.

"Just wasn't expecting it," I say.

"All right."

We weave through the crowd, heading for the bar. Neither of us is planning to get drunk, but we'll be more suspicious without a drink in hand. I order a beer and a vodka lemonade, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling at the fact I have my back to the room.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Sam says, and I jerk my head up, turning to see where he's looking.

The dance floor. It's packed already, so I don't know who he's talking about until—

The lights shift just right and I make out Vince's face. Carey's dancing with him, and as if she senses our eyes on her, she lifts her head, makes eye contact, and waves.

"Fuck," I mutter.

Sam glares at me. "You told her?"

"I said—" Shit. "Yeah. Didn't invite her along. Obviously."

The bartender puts our drinks in front of us and I pay, tapping my card against the machine. When I look back, Vince and Carey are heading over to us.

"Looking good!" Vince shouts when he's close. He claps me on the shoulder and gives Sam what I'm sure he thinks is a smouldering once-over—only Sam's already furious.

"We're not crashing your night," Carey clarifies. "I just—I mentioned it to Vince, and he said he'd never been here, so."

Carey's the one who introduced me to Vince after I started working at the shop. He helped me get my first job at the gym before I had any qualifications at all.

Terror grips my insides. These are my friends. If Tristan works that out, he's going to kill them.

Vince turns back to us all, two tiny shot glasses in his grasp. He pushes one at me and the other at Sam before he picks up two more—for him and Carey. I frown down at the glass. Whatever he's ordered, it's a lurid green, so I'm not too worried about the alcohol content of it.

"Cheers!" Carey says. We clink the tiny glasses together and throw them back. I pull a face as the sickeningly sweet liquid flows over my tongue.

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Was there even alcohol in that?"

Carey shrugs. "Who knows?"

She orders an actual drink for herself and Vince, who, once he has it in hand, drags her back into the throng of people. Sam sips his vodka and lemonade, eyes darting around the room.

"I really didn't know they were coming," I say, and he nods.

"I know. But it complicates things. Any sign of him?"

Though I've described Tristan to Sam, Sam hasn't seen him before. "Nothing yet."

Sam's eyes dart from person to person, lingering on a wolf at the edge of the crowd, and his frown deepens.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Nothing, I just thought there'd be… more of a mix."

I nod my agreement. All the vampires are busy, sure, but even I'd figured there might be a hunter or two in here. As far as I can tell, this place is full of wolves and humans. Tristan might stick out by virtue of being the only vampire inside, but he's not here yet.

If he comes at all.

Sam glances at the wolf again, who's watching him a little more hungrily now, then turns his gaze to the rest of the crowd. "I'm gonna take a look around," he says. "See if I can feel any magic."

"All right. Be careful."

Sam doesn't answer that, but he grins like he's the one who never gets in trouble before he slips away, merging in with the dancing bodies with a kind of grace I've never possessed.

I sigh. Maybe I'd have been better off staying at home tonight. At least that way, I wouldn't be so on edge. So unsure of myself. I finish my beer and set the bottle firmly on the table next to me.

There's nothing to be done. I'm here now, which means I have to follow through with our plan. If I'm going to draw Tristan out, I need to be present, and I need to look like I have no idea what's going on.

I take a deep breath before I wade into the crowd myself, catching up with Vince and Carey. Carey grabs my hand, pulling me in and making it a little group of three.

"Where's Sam?" Vince shouts in my ear.

I shrug. "Around." I give the people surrounding us a pointed glance. A wolf eyes me up and down and his smirk is arrogant before he winks. I roll my eyes.

Vince laughs. "Well, if you're not gonna…"

He sidles out of the group and up to the man, who tugs him closer by the hips. I snort despite myself. Carey laughs, her hips still moving to the music.

"He works fast."

"Yeah. Never seen him in action before."

She laughs again and I feel myself relax the more we dance. I keep half an eye out for Sam, and for Tristan, of course, but it's easy to lose part of myself to the music. When Carey suddenly pulls me close, I'm startled.

"Carey… Uh—"

"Some hot guy is eyeing you up from the edge of the floor."

I go still. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh. He doesn't look like the others in here. Fewer muscles."

My heart leaps. Tristan doesn't look like a wolf, but he's big for a vamp, so it doesn't sound like it's him. Maybe Lucien has…

"Don't look," Carey says just before I turn my head. "Keep dancing."

"How am I supposed to see him, then?"

"Be natural." She starts to move, and by the time she's done, we've swapped positions, and I can see the vamp watching us.

He's not Lucien. I stomp down my disappointment.

He's not Tristan, either.

In fact, I don't recognise him at all, though I can hazard a guess as to who he is. He's tall, with messy dark red hair and an open, friendly face. When he realises I'm watching him, he shoots me a flirty grin.

There's just a hint of fang in it. Like I haven't already worked out he's a vampire.

I frown when he starts to head towards us. Carey catches my gaze. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," I say.

She grins. "Don't let me get in your way."

Before I can reply, she dances away, and when I look up, the vampire is standing there. His smile is wide, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Wanna dance?" he asks.

There's no way out of this that doesn't end in me making a scene. I nod. The vampire approaches, already moving to the beat of the music. I can't see Sam. Is he safe out there?

"You don't need to look so worried, you know," the vampire says. "Lucien sent me."

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders, but not all of it. "You're Adam."

His eyebrows lift as though he's surprised I know his name. Did he not expect Lucien to tell me, or did he not expect me to remember?

"And you're Kieran," he says. "Pretty sure every vampire in the city right now knows your name."

I bite back a sigh. This is absolutely not what I wanted. Still, there's nothing to be done about it, though I shoot Adam a glare when he grabs my hips, pulling me closer.

"What are you—"

"You think the wolves can't pick up on someone not having a good time?"

"They're not about to intrude just because I don't wanna dance with you."

"I'm the only vampire in here right now."

I bite the inside of my cheek and reach up, putting a hand on his shoulder. It's just a dance, even if something in my chest is twisting unpleasantly at his touch. It's not his fault. If Lucien sent him, then I need to keep him safe, too, and having the wolves kick him to the kerb only leaves him vulnerable to attack.

"You didn't have to come over."

Adam shrugs. "I just wanted to introduce myself. Seemed polite. I wouldn't want to get staked trying to keep an eye on you."

It's a jab, but there's a hint of mirth in it now. Sam reappears from the crowd, pulling me out of the conversation. His gaze flicks over the two of us, dancing together as we are, and he quirks a questioning eyebrow in my direction.

"This is Adam," I say, letting go of him all at once. "Lucien sent him."

Sam turns his assessing gaze onto Adam, who has apparently forgotten about me, looking right back at Sam with a lazy grin. This one looks genuine, especially in the second his eyes linger on Sam's mouth.

"You must be the mysterious magical flatmate," Adam says. He sticks his hand out.

Sam stares at him for a moment before he shakes it. "Sam."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sam."

I sigh. Sam's not flirting back, but he's not giving Adam the same brush-off he usually gives Vince or basically anyone else I've ever seen him speak to.

"Wish I could say the same."

Ah. Never mind, then.

"Find anything interesting in here?" Adam asks.

"Nothing out of the ordinary for a place like this." Sam never looks away from Adam's face, and tension crackles between them until Adam's smile widens and he rocks back on his heels.

I turn away from them, scanning the crowd. Vince is still with the wolf he found, and they're grinding together, Vince's mouth on the wolf's neck. Well, all right then. I might not like wolves, but I'm pretty sure he'll be safe.

I look for Carey and frown when I can't see her. "Where's Carey?"

Sam stops talking, immediately focusing on the problem. "Toilets?"

I frown. I would have thought she'd let us know, but if she couldn't find Sam… I look at him. "Can you…?"

He shakes his head. "She's human, remember?"

"Shit." I start moving through the crowd, the two of them on my heels. We wait near the ladies' toilet for a few minutes, and when there's no sign of her, I ask a wolf heading out if she could go in and check.

"There's no one in there who looks like that," she says when she comes back out. Her gaze jumps to Adam and her eyes narrow. "You…"

"She's probably just dancing," Sam says quickly. He grins at the wolf, disarming her in a moment. "Is there a smoking area somewhere?"

"She doesn't smoke," I say. Fuck. Maybe she's just wandered off to chat with someone. She's probably fine. She's probably—

"Fuck," Sam hisses a second before I feel the familiar tingle of magic on my skin. "This way, come on!"

Adam and I follow him, ignoring the wolf as she calls after us. We head through a side door labelled ‘employees only', down a well-lit corridor, and I try not to think about the fact that there are almost certainly wolves on our heels. Fuck. This is so bad.

He shoves a fire door open, and we stumble out into an alley between the club and the business next door. I hear Carey's shriek and I rush past Sam, making out her struggling with Tristan further in the shadows.

He pushes her back against the wall, and she cries out when her head hits the brick. Before I can reach him, he has her in his arms, her back against his chest and her neck exposed. His fangs flash, but he looks past me, at Adam.

"Lucien's let his turn out to play?" The words are slurred around his fangs and Adam lets out a little growl. "I'm not here for you, baby vampire."

"Let her go," I say.

"Oh, I don't think so. You killed someone I care about. Why shouldn't I get to do the same?"

Magic moves over me again, but before it can freeze me in place, magic bursts out of Sam, and I move. Tristan bites down. Carey screams. I have to be careful—I can't risk him tearing her throat out—but I need to pull him off her before he can drain her.

Luckily, Carey seems to have had a similar idea. She stomps on the inside of Tristan's foot, her sharp heel digging in. He lifts his head to growl, and I grab him around the throat, startling him enough that he lets go.

Carey stumbles away, catching herself against the wall. She presses a hand to the wound on her throat. I shove Tristan back against the brick and punch him in the stomach.

He doubles over with a snarl. I can't give him the time to get the upper hand, not with how fast he is, so I drive my knee up into his stomach, too. He gasps out an unnecessary breath, and his snarl is dangerous.

I hear footsteps behind us and men shouting. Wolves. Shit. Tristan's eyes flash gold and he shoves me back, hard enough that I stumble. One of the wolves grabs me, but I twist out of his grip. Adam is standing between Carey and another wolf, fangs on full display, but before I can reach Tristan again, there's a surge of magic and he's gone.

"Fuck," I hiss. When I turn my head, Sam has his hands raised, two of the wolves advancing on him. Carey has a hand on Adam's shoulder, her face frighteningly pale.

The wolf who grabbed me glares down at me, crossing thick arms over a barrel chest. "Come on," he says. "Alpha Deacon needs to know about this."