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The blond spun around, his blue eyes sparking in irritation. “What the hell, man?”
Blaéz stared at the human. Dammit! Not Finnén.
He’d been so bloody sure. He pivoted and headed for the stairs.
“Damn dickhead!” the man’s annoyed voice drifted to him despite the noise.
“Guess that was a bust,” Týr said as they headed outside.
“Indeed.” A little relieved that his kin wasn’t around and had probably heeded his warning, Blaéz headed up the alley.
Yet the sense of impending doom lingered.
Hell, it could be anything. In his long life, he’d made enemies, most of them demonkind. If only his damn precognition would reveal to him a hint of what the fuck was coming his way. At least then he’d be prepared if shit did fly.
