Chapter 11

ANITA

Inarrow my eyes on the guys when they exchange secretive glances.

They are keeping something from me.

The longer they go without speaking, the more my distrust grows, despite my attraction to them, and my resolve to leave only intensifies. Flames start licking under my skin as I slowly inch away. While I don't want to hurt them, I will if they don't give me a choice.

Cassius and Soren instantly spot my retreat, their attention zeroing in on me, and twin scowls darken their faces. Maybe I would be intimidated if they didn't have their dicks pressed against me and their hands all over my body a few minutes ago.

Okay, so they are still intimidating as fuck, but I no longer think they'll physically harm me. They had a chance when we were fighting, and they opted to restrain me instead.

"You looked into my eyes." Cassius' expression is mutinous, almost like he's pissed, which makes absolutely no sense.

I plop my hands on my hips, then huff, arching an eyebrow at the audacity. "So let me get this straight. It's okay for you to pin me to the wall with your leg between my thighs, run your hands over me without permission, and grind your dick against my ass, but you're upset that I looked you in the eye?"

I can't contain my incredulousness.

Soren at least has the decency to wince, but Cassius doubles down. He takes a step toward me and honest-to-goodness fucking glowers down at me. If I were a weaker woman, I would take it personally.

Instead, his attitude just pisses me off, and the sexy moment between us is now tainted.

"I warned you about looking into my eyes, I warned you about the dangers of my touch, and yet you threw yourself at me anyway." He stalks toward me as he rants, his anger increasing with each plodding thud until his fury practically vibrates in the air and lashes at me.

My eyebrows shoot up at the jerkoff's absolute gall, and I battle to keep my anger in check. Fear makes people lash out. They say and do stupid shit. I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the warm spark that burned so brightly when he ran his hands over me gradually dims and turns cold.

It feels like something precious slipped between my fingers before I could catch it, and the fight suddenly goes out of me. Soren scowls at Cassius, stepping forward as if to defend me, but I wave him away. "Sure, that won't be a problem anymore. Next time, I'll just pretend you don't exist."

I step toward him, noticing the way he suddenly stops, desperate to remain out of touching distance, and the edges of my heart fracture and crumble a little. "Some advice? Maybe don't hover at the door, perving like some creep."

Not giving him time to react, I step around them and head down the hallway with my head held high. The walls I use to keep people at a distance feel fragile, and I hate that they found a chink in my armor then wedged themselves inside.

I pause at the top of the steps, then turn and look at Cassius over my shoulder. "And just so you know, while you might think it's your eyes or touch that forces you to keep your distance from others, it's really your prickly Chupacabra personality that keeps people away."

I head down the stairs and dismiss him from my life.

The men argue in harsh whispers, their heated voices rising, but I ignore them as I walk down the steps. A breeze snakes around my legs, reminding me once again of my nakedness. Since fire is my main ability, I'm used to finding myself naked at the most inopportune times.

Thankfully, I have mad skills at improvising.

I stop at the second floor, discreetly checking each door. I avoid the ones that indicate someone might be home. The third door I try is the charm. I send a tiny spark of heat into the locking mechanism. Thankfully, it's not electrical, but an old-school metal keyhole. It takes a concentrated effort to allow the metal to melt away, but not burn hot enough to incinerate the door.

I learned that lesson the hard way.

Using the spark more like a welding torch, I hold my finger at the keyhole and wait. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for the metal to heat, then melt. I twist the knob, the now fragile lock crunching before it clatters to the floor, and I use my hip to pop the door open.

The interior of the room is dark, and I raise my hand, allowing a tiny flame to spark to life. I turn and look around the room. The small space is a disaster. The bed is broken, the mattress on the floor while the shattered frame leans against the wall like a drunken sailor. The covers are a tangled mess that trails across the bed to the floor. Worn and dirty clothes are scattered across every surface.

A tiny dresser stands against the wall with a dozen or so worn, almost empty makeup containers lined up along the top—the brushes and cases are the only thing in the room handled with any care. If the clothes scattered everywhere are any indication, the room is shared by a couple. The dresser drawers are open haphazardly, two worn shirts spilling out.

Everything is so messy that it looks like the room has been ransacked, which works in my favor.

They won't know that I borrowed a pair of pants until I'm long gone.

I pick up the closest pair of jeans, then grimace when I find they are so dirty that they retain their shape and practically stand up on their own. I nudge the clothes on the floor with the tip of my toe, shifting garments until I find something that might fit.

To my disappointment, the girl has more curves than a circle, making me look like a child dressing up in her mom's clothes.

Pass.

In this part of town, the last thing you want to do is look vulnerable.

I don't even bother looking for underwear. Fuck if I want to even see the state of their underthings, much less stoop to wearing someone else's panties.

I can't stop my shudder of revulsion and quickly get on with my search.

The sooner I can leave this den of cooties, the better. When I accidentally brush against something that hisses at me before it dashes off into the darkness, I'm barely able to keep my flames from engulfing the room. The need to torch everything before I catch something nasty is pure instinct.

When I find a relatively clean pair of pants—meaning they are not infested with bugs—I snatch them up with a triumphant grin. They are long, but I easily fix that by rolling up the hem five times until they finally fit.

They are a little loose in the waist, but tight enough in the thighs and ass that they stay up unassisted. A win. I grab the hem of Soren's shirt, twist it, then tie the bottom edges together. It's still loose enough to keep my shape covered from prying eyes, but not enough that people could grab it and use it against me.

No matter how hard I look, I'm still left without shoes.

Not wanting to linger and push my luck, I quickly head out the door. I search for a window or an alternate exit, but I'm not that lucky. In this part of town, a window is just asking for someone to break in and rob you.

I head back downstairs, my steps almost soundless as I descend, hoping that I'll be able to slip past the guys without them noticing. I don't linger at the bottom of the staircase. Instead, I dart to the side and take in the room with a quick, practiced glance.

Being a member of my backstabbing family works in my favor for once.

They unintendedly taught me how to be silent and avoid detection.

I've had a lifetime of practice.

Soren is easy to spot. He stands in the middle of the room, his massive arms crossed over his chest and a fierce scowl on his face as he ignores everyone around him to search for me. I duck away so as not to draw his attention, my eyes automatically sliding toward the door and escape, but I'm not foolish enough to make a break for it.

With a quick glance around the room, I easily spot Cassius. Despite lingering in the shadows, his skin is so pale, he stands out like a beacon. He leans against the far end of the bar, closest to the door. Though it looks like his face is buried in his beer, I don't make the mistake that he's not paying attention.

No doubt he's aware of every single person in the room.

The instant I make a move toward the door, the two of them will be on me like wings on a hippogriff. No matter how hard I try to dislodge them, I'd never be able to pry them off my ass. My eyes lock on the door that leads toward the kitchen, hoping for a back entrance.

I push off the wall, duck my head, and use my smaller stature to hide in the crowd of bodies. Though it's probably closer to five in the morning, the place is still packed. This close to the borderlands, it's not a surprise that most of the deals are done after dark.

No one wants to be caught outside during daylight.

Not to mention some beastlings thrive in the darkness.

My heart thunders in my ears as I head toward the kitchen. I'm so close that I can practically taste my freedom, but then my eyes land on a seated figure in the corner.

Darby.

He doesn't notice me, his head bent over his tablet, a blue green glow sparking in his eyes as he goes through streams of data. My steps slow, and I'm not even aware that I stop until I'm standing near his table.

If I leave, I'll never learn what happened to his sister.

Sure, he'll continue to look for Charlotte, but he'll never get close enough to my family to find out what happened to her, and my chest tightens at the thought of him never being able to discover her fate. The instant my family senses him, they'll either destroy the siblings to keep their secrets hidden or force Darby to work for them until nothing of him remains but another mindless minion to do their bidding.

He must sense my presence, because he lifts his head before I can decide whether or not to slip away. His teal gaze automatically connects with mine, the white specks reminding me of rough waters threatening to pull me into their stormy depths.

Most tech'ers struggle to pull themselves out of the digital world, but not him. Recognition instantly sparks in his eyes. His face softens, a tiny smile curls his lips, and I find myself taking the seat next to him. Crow's-feet crease the corners of his eyes, heavy lines bracket his mouth, and my stomach drops. "What's wrong?"

His brows lift in surprise, and he leans back in his seat as he contemplates me. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

I don't even try to hold back my snort. "We fled in the middle of the night to the safety of the borderlands. If any type of luck is in the air, it's bad luck."

A snort of laughter catches him by surprise, and my heart melts when a rueful smile crosses his face. Though he relaxes a little more, his expression turns serious. "Another murder has been reported. MID wants us to investigate."

I easily catch what he's not saying. "If we don't go?—"

"We'll blow our cover. They'll know we helped you escape." He drums his fingers against the table, then pushes his tablet away. "Right now, they think you got out on your own. While they didn't issue an arrest warrant, they did release a BOLO. Every agent in the country will be looking for you."

My stomach clenches in dread, nausea swirling in my gut, and I release a heavy sigh. I can practically feel the noose tightening around my throat.

It's only a matter of time before I'm caught—either by my family, the demons hunting me, or MID.

I'm not sure which is worse.

DARBY

"Hey," I murmur, sickened by the fear and despair churning in her dark eyes. Unable to curb the impulse to reach out to soothe her, I lightly run my fingers over her arm, instantly distracted by her smooth skin. Heat radiates from her, luring me closer, and I find myself almost hypnotized by the sweep of my fingertips against her skin.

So soft.

Practically begging me to explore more of her.

I tear my gaze away from the image of my hand on her body, unsure I'm even breathing. I wait for her to flinch and jerk away in disgust or slap me for taking such liberties. I'm better at computers and tech than people…or so the last woman I dated shouted at me before she stormed out in a fit of rage.

She called me an unfeeling machine, devoid of emotions, and incapable of love.

Since she was sucking me off at the time, and I got distracted with work and completely forgot about her, she might have a point.

That was three years ago.

I've only slept with four women in my life, mostly in my youth and mostly out of curiosity.

While women might be beautiful creatures, talking about shopping, clothing, makeup, or gossip holds very little interest for me.

Until now.

Until her.

At the news my sister is possibly still alive, I dove deep into the servers, determined to locate her, easily losing myself in the tech. From experience, it's almost impossible to drag a person out of a tech trance once they start surfing the data streams.

Yet the instant Anita spoke in her low, raspy voice, my cock kicked in my pants and any thoughts of code vanished. It's like she has the ability to reach through my magic and call to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul, and a tiny spark of hope flares to life.

I've never reacted to anyone in such a way, and I suspect the rest of the team is similarly affected.I can't wait to discover the mystery of what makes Anita so unique. As I memorize the angles and curves of her face, I don't think I'll ever tire of trying to figure out what makes her tick.

My chest aches as I wait for her reaction to my touch, my breath stuttering in my chest when she leans closer, and I swear my heart leaps in anticipation.

When she flashes me a tiny smile, I feel like I passed some sort of hurdle, and my resolve to keep her safe solidifies. I couldn't protect my sister, but I'm an adult now—older and wiser. If anyone wants to harm Anita, they will have to go through me first.

I'm drawn to her, and it's not just because she's insanely attractive.

Her inner flames call to me on some primitive level, daring me to come out and play. Even when I'm absorbed in code, she lingers in the back of my mind, and I can't get her out of my thoughts.

Maybe my judgment is skewed because she knew my sister. Charlotte has been missing for years, and everyone else believed she perished a long time ago. Though I never stopped looking for her, my hope has dwindled over the years.

The fact that my sister gave Anita a moniker is her stamp of approval.

Spark.

The name suits her, and not just because of her powers. Something about her sparks interest in others. Just being near her is like being woken up from the monotony of our daily lives.

The logical part of me knows I should be leery of how she burst into our world—that she even met my sister is a miracle in itself—but it's the guys' reactions to her nearness that's the most suspicious.

We're all drawn to the same woman.

Since none of us even notice women on most days, it's unusual.

We're a bunch of degenerates—love them and leave them types—and not just because of our jobs. While we enjoy women, we don't have the time or energy to wine and dine them.

They are just too much effort, demanding every second of our attention.

None of our past entanglements liked that we had interests outside of them.

Everything is different with Anita, and the guys are practically tripping over themselves to be near her…not that I can blame them. Something about her nearness is electrifying.

Maybe I should be worried she cast some sort of spell over us, but I can't detect anything in the air, nor can I sense any ill intent from her. Not to mention Porter and Soren are virtually resistant to castings. Porter is more ghost than man, making it hard for any spell to get a lock on him. Even if Soren is tagged, his fire usually burns the spells away before they can infect him.

No, Anita just fits with the group.

Naturally.

Seamlessly.

Like she's the missing piece we didn't know we were lacking, and I'm determined not to let her go now that we finally found her. Heart rattling in my chest, I attempt to make conversation and not stick my foot in my mouth. This is one of those times where I curse that I spent so much time with computers, because I no longer know how to connect with people.

"You're not alone anymore." I wrap my hand around her arm, giving it a light squeeze, then I nearly melt in my seat when she doesn't pull away. In fact, she reaches out and distractedly runs her fingertips over the back of my hand.

Her teasing touch feels like she reached into my pants and fucking stroked my dick. It's enough to drive me insane, but not enough to ease the increasing tension.

Blood heads south in a rush, and my cock desperately tries to escape my pants. I slouch lower in my seat so she won't see just how much she's affecting me. My entire body heats at the idea of her reaching below the table, taking me in hand, and ending my suffering.

"Where the hell have you been?" Cassius and Soren tower over our table. While worry lines Soren's face, Cassius is barely able to contain his anger…or his basilisk.

He prides himself on his control.

I've never seen him so ruffled and out of sorts.

Their arrival snaps me out of my fantasy, and I'm not sure if I should be grateful, not wanting to lose my load in my pants, or if I want to take them out back and murder them. Soren slips into the chair across from us, never once taking his eyes off our little female.

And I realize then that she is ours.

There is no way any of us are giving her up, not even Cassius, no matter how much he might fight his attraction.

Anita leans away from Cassius—a cute little scowl on her face that wrinkles the bridge of her nose, not the least bit intimidated by the basilisk—which almost puts her in my lap, and my dick is happy once more. Leaning toward her, I inhale her intoxicating sweet and spicy scent, and my mouth waters with the need to taste her.

Anita might have reservations about us, but now that I've made up my mind, I'm committed to my course. I'm not totally inept with women. I've done extensive research on the opposite sex, but I've never found one that's been worth the time and effort to put all my considerable knowledge into action.

Until now.

I mentally go over all my research about women, then I barely hold back a devious grin when I settle on the perfect solution, one guaranteed to make her fall madly in love with me.

Seduction.

I'm quite irresistible when I set my mind to something. For the first time in a long time, I want something for myself, something that exists in the real world.

Failure is not an option.

I rest my arm on the back of her chair and lean forward until her back is pressed against my side. I brush my fingers along her curls, marveling at the soft strands and the way her hair coils around my fingers as if claiming me. The ends are a lighter brown, almost like they are glowing from within—a fire ready to burn the unwary.

And I can't wait to play with her fire.

Cassius can fight the attraction all he wants, but I've already accepted my fate.

I'm hers.