Chapter 11

Morning dawned at last after a sleepless remainder of the night, and the day crawled by in work and laundry and mundane bullshit.

And then another night. And another day.

Thoughts of Raven crowded into my mind more or less all the time: in the shower, making a sandwich, rubbing glitter on my abs, dancing and smiling and pretending I gave a shit.

Cold desert winds whipped through Vegas, bringing the scent of mountain snow. And even though shifters ran hot and alphas even hotter, a chill settled in my bones and wouldn't leave me.

I had Raven's phone number, and anyway, we were probably within a mile of each other on a daily basis. Practically shouting distance; definitely a tiger's roaring distance.

And yet he might as well have vanished back into whatever godsforsaken fairy place he'd left when he'd chosen to come to the human world and get in trouble.

Desire beat in my blood and burned in my nerves, but I gritted my teeth and forced it down. I shifted and ran through the desert for a full night, terrifying the ever-loving shit out of every poor fox and lizard and mouse that usually lived a naturally and blissfully tiger-free existence.

Early morning, the fourth after I'd left him at the Silver Lode, found me high up on a rock overlooking the desert and the rising sun to the east, with Vegas a weird glittering lump off to the west. I shifted back to my human form, shaking out my fur as it vanished into me, and flopped down to stare up at the sky stretching above me, pink-washed blue, endless nothingness except for a single wheeling raptor, probably looking for one of those scared mice.

Simple. A predator, prey, life and death, night fading into day.

No magical coins or debts owed, no manipulations or tricks or lies.

The rough stone under my skin would've been much more comfortable in a tiger's furry body, but while shifters kept our ability to reason while in our animal forms, it took effort. The scents of desert flowers and prey, the brush of the wind in my whiskers, the faint far-off rustles and squawks and yips of the desert's life came to the foreground with a tiger's senses.

But now that I'd shifted back, I could think clearly again.

Genuinely clearly.

Because either the shift or just the passage of a bit of time had finally driven out the last of Raven's magic, that I'd absorbed with my poorly judged licking and kissing. It was far more obvious now in its absence than while I'd been under his spell.

Unlike the hawk and its intended victim, nothing about Raven or his situation was simple, at least not on the face of it. Alpha magic might have a lot of advantages—strength, healing, keen senses, an innate ability to dominate and command—but it didn't lend itself to anything requiring subtlety. His magic, on the other hand…it wound itself around you like smoke, seeped in along the edges, manipulated and tricked and lied. If anyone had the perfect skill-set to deal with a bad bargain and a fairy-wrought coin with a mind of its own, he did. I didn't. So the logical thing would be to leave him to it.

And the logical, human part of me, the part that could understand how incredibly not-simple Raven and his predicament really was, knew I ought to continue my trajectory of the other night. I'd walked away. I should keep walking.

But even human-shaped, even free of magical influence, I had to recognize that my instincts and the deepest part of my nature insisted that no, it really was incredibly fucking simple. He was mine. He belonged to me, and he was in trouble, and I had to protect him. End of story. Cunningham and the bargain and the coin were nothing but obstacles in the way of what had to be. Difficult obstacles, maybe, but not complicated.

It felt like that moment in the club all over again, when Raven had made his proposition and I'd had to admit to myself that I'd been negotiating terms, not disagreeing with the underlying premise. The instant I'd seen him, possibly even the instant I'd scented him, it'd been all over.

Now I had to face the same uncomfortable realization: there'd never been the faintest chance in hell that I'd shrug and let it go, the way Declan had—correctly but unrealistically—told me I ought to.

It had nothing to do with Raven's literal enchantment of me. He'd enchanted me much more lastingly with his very being, with his laughter and his tears and his stubbornness.

I had to get him the hell away from Cunningham. Ideally, I'd rip Cunningham's face off and feed it to him sideways in the process. And then…well, then Raven would probably rip me a new one in turn for interfering in his business.

…Except that he'd cried. He'd taken my knot, and he'd cried because I hadn't hurt him, and he'd told me that he'd wanted me to kiss him.

Whether he'd ever admit it or not, he needed my help.

And he'd get it. Whether he liked it or not.

Tigers had a particular talent for basking, and even in my human skin I could bask like a motherfucker.

So I lay there on my rocky perch until the sun had fully breached the horizon, basking in my new understanding, blinking lazily up at the brightening sky and tracking a second raptor that'd joined the first in its morning hunt.

A predator seeking prey, life and death, a new day beginning.

Raven was mine. And he needed me.

Simple.

***

Since I'd already taken the day off work, knowing the club would be too loud and claustrophobic after a night spent in my wild tiger's body and mind, I went home to shower and then headed straight back out again to do some recon. Raven's DMV records might not be the most accurate—I mean, Ty Tania—but Cunningham's Audacity Hotel, where Raven had claimed to live, seemed like the place to start.

A few calls to other service-industry friends I'd met during my year of hanging out in off-Strip bars late at night got me the phone number of a parking valet at Audacity, with a warning that he wouldn't talk to me unless I brought him weed. A text to the same friend at the Silver Lode yielded a potential introduction to his cousin's girlfriend, who worked as a concierge assistant at Audacity four days a week. (Luckily for his job and our friendship, he'd laughed himself sick when he saw the bed, filmed the damage to post anonymously online, and then colluded with housekeeping to cover it up.)

The girlfriend apparently had gone on vacation, though, so I tried the valet first, texting him with the name of our mutual friend and an offer to meet up and smoke on his break.

His reply was encouragingly enthusiastic, although I'd had no idea phones even had that many emojis relating to smoking pot.

Half an hour of driving around buying weed later found me leaning against the wall of a parking garage near Audacity, as casually as a weretiger stripper waiting to bribe someone with drugs could lean. The alley boasted an inspiring view of concrete dust, traffic cones, and a chain link fence with a couple of used condoms caught in its gaps and fluttering limply in the cold breeze.

Christ. The things we did for—lust, possessiveness, and a sense of responsibility. I'd go with that. Even alphas didn't fall in…other things that weren't lust…that quickly. Not even when every sense and instinct recognized the object of the not-other-things as the epitome of everything I didn't even know I'd been looking for.

The way he'd looked at me when he'd practically begged me to leave him…

The faint scuff of footsteps had me turning toward the front of the alley a couple of seconds before a tall, lanky dude in a tacky purple-and-gold valet uniform slouched around the corner of the building.

For fuck's sake, Cunningham really was a blight on the world. What kind of asshole made his employees dress like that?

"Hey, Tony?" he said as he approached—not too close, and sounding a little wary, and I didn't really blame him. Jeans and a long-sleeved blue T-shirt were innocuous on most people, but when you came right down to it, my bulging-biceped, unshaven-red-stubbled picture was in the dictionary next to "guy you don't want to approach in a seedy alley."

"What's up? Sean? Thanks for meeting me, man. Jake said I could trust you, so I appreciate it." I put all the friendly harmlessness I could muster into my tone.

Sean relaxed a bit and came within arm's reach at last, so apparently I hadn't growled too much.

"Happy to help," he said, and actually smiled at me, a surprisingly charming expression on his thin, plain face. Dirty blond hair flopped down into his eye, and he shoved it back. "You said something about taking a break…?"

Right. I pulled out my purchases from the dispensary, and his eyes lit up. "I don't really smoke much pot," I said, the understatement of the century, and he nodded, swooped the baggie of pre-rolled joints out of my hand, and produced a lighter from seemingly nowhere.

His happy little sounds as he took his first drag had me suppressing a laugh. Yeah, if I had to cosplay a gilded eggplant and park people's cars all day, I might be eagerly ready to get baked out of my gourd on my break, too.

Sean quirked an eyebrow and held out the joint after a polite three hits, and I shook my head and propped up the wall again, biding my time as patiently as I could until he'd finished his smoke.

At last he dropped the smoldering end on the ground with a satisfied aaah , and leaned back next to me, gazing out at the condom-decorated vista.

"So what's up?" he said. "I checked in with Jake. He said you were looking for someone who works at Audacity? You need a job there or something? He told me you work at Lucky or Knot. I've never had the balls to like, go in there and check it out."

Sean was into guys? Shit. Maybe his hesitation when he saw me had been based on more than just my intimidating size. Did he think I'd hit on him?

"Text me if you want to come by some night." That sounded neutral, right? "I'll make sure you get a drink on the house. No one's going to come on too strong. We're all cool, I promise."

He laughed. "If they're all like you, then I believe you. Thanks for the smoke. You want the rest of…"

"No, keep it for your next break. I have a favor to ask."

He hummed thoughtfully, and when I glanced over at him, I found him eyeing me a lot more alertly than I'd have expected from someone who'd put down a joint in three minutes. Well, double shit. I'd seriously considered what to say to him, but no matter what story I gave, anyone with half a brain would know I was leaving a lot out. I'd hoped the weed would get him down to more like a quarter of a brain, but it seemed not.

"The guy who owns Audacity, Arnold Cunningham. You ever meet him personally?"

I'd thought that would be a nicely oblique way to start the awkward conversation, but his face changed the instant Cunningham's name came out of my mouth. Sean had pale skin to start with, but he went pasty.

"No, thank God," he said. "No. He's—you should stay away from him. I mean, don't quote me. He's fired and blacklisted people for talking shit about him on social media or whatever. But he's not cool. He has this vibe, you know? Like you want to stay out of his line of sight. His own security deals with his vehicles, so I never have to get near him. But I've seen him coming in and out. That's enough for me."

Raven crying, Raven terrified that I might damage his clothes and bring Cunningham's violent wrath down on him…

"Yeah, that's what I've heard." Sean jumped and edged away from me. "Fuck, sorry. I'm not angry with you. I'm—sorry. Don't mind me. Seriously."

"I haven't spent much time around alphas, or shifters at all," he said after a second, giving me a quick, shy, up-and-down glance. "I guess you guys are kind of, you know. More intense than some people? It's okay."

"Is that why you want to check out Lucky or Knot?" I asked him, trying to lighten the mood. "See what we're like?"

He quirked a smile and gave me the once-over again through half-lowered lashes. "That and the, you know. Obvious reason to go. Um. I thought Jake maybe gave you my number because he knew I uh, you know."

Okay. I'd never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but the penny finally dropped. If I'd been alone, I'd have facepalmed. He hadn't been afraid I'd hit on him, he'd been expecting it, probably assuming I'd wanted to get him high in an alley as the prelude to some kind of hook-up.

The thought came unbidden and unwelcome: Raven would've laughed his ass off if he'd been here—or maybe he wouldn't have, and I'd have liked that even more. If Raven ever cared enough to be jealous…my chest hurt.

"Yeah," I answered, forcing my mouth to form coherent words even though I wanted to roar and batter my fists and claws into the wall until I bled and the parking structure came down around my ears. "I know. Um, you're really cute," and that was only sort of a flattering lie, because I might've even gone for that hook-up if my interest in all non-Raven beings hadn't vanished into the ether, "but I'm here because I'm having a problem with, okay, fuck."

He watched me patiently, with a slightly disappointed downturn to his mouth, but mostly with sympathetic curiosity in his clear blue eyes. I wanted to trust him. If I had any chance of getting what I needed, I probably had to trust him. The risk to Raven…fuck. But I needed someone to help me, and I knew for sure Declan, my only other source of information, wouldn't go any further for what he perceived as my own good.

And Jake had vouched for Sean.

I had to take the risk, or there was no point in my being here at all. It wouldn't have made any sense to someone without a shifter's senses and instincts, but underneath the pervasive odor of strong cannabis, Sean smelled honest.

And I was desperate.

"There's a guy," I blurted out.

The words There's a guy came nowhere near encompassing Raven, or the strange, aching space he'd carved out for himself in my tight chest so quickly and definitively, but Sean nodded as if he understood completely.

"Cunningham," I began, and then chuckled despite everything as Sean's eyes widened in total horror. "No! Not Cunningham, I mean, he isn't the guy. Have you ever seen Cunningham's boyfriend?" Referring to Raven that way made my gut clench, but I couldn't think of a better way to say it that wouldn't get into the details. "Short, long black hair, dresses like the king of the goths circa 1996?"

Sean's eyes went, if possible, even wider. "Oh, fuck," he choked. "You—that's— there's a guy ? Are you suicidal? Are you insane? You're insane. Jake set me up with a maniac. I'm going to kill him. If you don't kill me first. Are you a serial killer?"

"No one's killing anyone, I promise." Except Cunningham, and anyone who got between me and him, but details. "So you've seen him. You know who he is."

"Everyone who works at Audacity knows who he is. He lives in one of the suites of the penthouse Cunningham uses when he stays here. He's, like, you know those rich ladies who always have those little purebred dogs they carry around in designer purses, that have diamonds on their collars and shit? I don't know if boyfriend's the right word for what he is." He swallowed audibly, looked around nervously, and lowered his voice to a paranoid whisper. "How did you even get close enough to him to like, have him be a guy to you without dying?"

Sean and Declan should probably get together and have a drink so they could agree on how incredibly stupid I was.

"I shouldn't tell you and you don't want to know. But I need to know more about his routine. And Cunningham's. How they spend their time, where they go and when. And that's—the favor," I finished lamely. "That's why I asked Jake for the intro."

Sean stared at me. "So you can get me fired and killed too?"

"Bright side, if you get killed you won't care about getting fired?" The look that earned me could've blistered paint off a wall. "Sorry, that wasn't a great joke."

"Yeah, don't try to incorporate stand-up comedy into your stage act anytime soon," he said. "Tony, I can't help you. I'm sorry. You smoked me out and that was really cool of you, and I'll even pay you back whatever you spent, no worries. But I can't."

He pushed off the wall, and I knew I had about a two-second window to change his mind. "Free drinks at Lucky for life, and I'll talk to Declan MacKenna about giving you a job at the Morrigan once this is over," I promised wildly. "You won't have to wear that shit. Or work for that motherfucker Cunningham." His mouth tightened. He was about to say no again. "Please," I said, Raven's voice echoing in my head as I did. "Help me, and I swear to all the gods I'll make sure nothing happens to you. This isn't about me. This is about, shit. Does he look happy, when you see him? Cunningham's, you know, the guy."

Sean hesitated, sighed, and said, "He doesn't look like anything. I mean, blank. Like someone who's—there's rumors. More than rumors. About the way Cunningham treats people." He slumped back against the wall and rubbed his hands over his face. "Damn it," he groaned from behind them. "I get what you're not saying. Now I'll feel guilty as hell."

My heart gave a pathetic, hopeful thump, and I pressed my advantage shamelessly. "You won't have to feel guilty if you help me. Help me help him."

He dropped his hands and shot me a sour look. "We both know you probably can't do anything to actually help him get away from Cunningham, since I figure that's what you're trying to do. That's assuming he even wants to, and you could just be a crazed stalker, even if you're not a serial killer. Plus there's no way you can actually protect me from someone like that, and I have my doubts about the job. I'm sorry, like I'm not trying to be rude, but looking at you, I feel like even the free drinks might be kind of a stretch."

Christ, forget my optimistic estimate of half a brain. I'd managed to find the one person on Earth who actually got smarter when he smoked pot instead of stupider. Totally unfair.

How was I supposed to argue with someone who had made a series of valid, inarguable points?

I came up with, "Me being a crazed stalker and him wanting to get away from Cunningham aren't mutually exclusive."

Sean blinked at me, shook his head, and stuck a hand in his pocket. "I need to be a lot more high for this. Like, exponentially more high."