“His name is Egan. He’s one of my mates and the new sergeant.” I try to slip the mate part in the middle, hoping he will ignore it and deal with the other information, but it doesn’t work.
“Mate?” Brass looks Egan up and down. “At least you look sturdy. You might be able to keep up with her.” I swear Egan flexes so his back and chest look wider. I pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Well, where’s the other one? Harlow told me about him.” He looks around expectantly.
“Harlow told you about him?” I question before calling, “Modeus.”
“He sure did,” Brass defends. “I told him he was a fool for not telling you. Dumb dead bastard.” There’s a lot of emotion in his voice, which he tries to cover when he adds, “A prince,” while pursing his lips as if to sayla-tee-daas he eyes Modeus.
I pretend not to notice his antics, while the demon who came for the nonexistent trials watches us as if we’re the paid entertainment.
Modeus steps to my side, keeping a little distance between himself and Brass. It’s a smart play, especially after watching him with the newcomer. “He told me about you too,” my prince comments rather cryptically. I’ll have to ask him more about that later.
“Mind if I get back to business for just a minute?” I ask Brass cheekily.
“Sure, sure. I’ll grab a drink. I just wanted to check in on everything.” The founder of the Obsidian Angels doesn’t bother to come to the clubhouse often. He spends most of his time drunk on his back porch with Frances, a gigantic type of crustacean that usually makes their home on the beach. Those two have a strange bond. I’m surprised the massive crab-like creature isn’t already with him, but I expect he’ll be along soon.
I return my attention to the demon. “You know who I am, as well as my mates” —I gesture to Modeus and Egan— “and you even met the founder of the club, but I don’t know who you are.”
“Malik,” he answers without reservation, though the slight slump of his shoulders would have me assuming he’s a little disappointed. “I’m not the only one who is coming. Therumorthat you are holding trials has spread far. I heard it from a small pack of nomadic shifters.”
I allow Malik to see and hear how completely unbothered I am about any would-be challenger coming into my territory when I answer him with a shrug of indifference. “The effort is yours and theirs to waste. I’m more interested in who would have started such a rumor, not those naïve enough to believe it.”
Malik tips his head back a little, and the muscle along his lime green jaw tics. I’m sure my small insult stings, but I refuse to seem weak in the face of this encounter.
“Will you be petitioning to stay in my territory or moving along?” It’s yet another subtle reminder that I control what happens in Obsidian Angels’ lands.
Malik takes a second to look back at the table he came from, assessing the others who accompanied him. “Visiting independents, if that’s to your liking,” he offers when he returns his attention back to me.
I give him a solid nod of approval, but tell him, “Independent or not, you’re expected to abide by my laws or die by them. Welcome to Delten.”
Malik moseys back to his table, but I pay him little mind after the conversation. I’ve made myself more than clear, and if he decides to test me or my club, he’ll die regretting it.
Once the noise picks back up to a normal level, Rolk, the club treasurer, hobbles his way toward me. His short, meaty limbs are bowed, giving the illusion he’s been on a bike for far too long. The goblin’s mien is sour as he approaches. I know how much he hates to leave the coffers, but it’s a necessary evil.
“Reaper said you wanted to see me.” His voice is low and deep but comes out slightly garbled from his lopsided mouth.
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” I’m not dismissing Rolk to be an asshole, but he’s not the only person I want to speak to, and I don’t see Sabastian. The wolf shifter is pretty hard not to notice.
I wonder if his absence has anything to do with Salvador’s. Before I allow myself to make any assumptions, I run my hand over Modeus’ arm, drawing his attention. His eyes immediately snap down to meet mine. “Would you mind checking on our probies?”
The demon prince jumps into action, striding away after returning a caress along my cheek. It’s so quick, I’m mourning the loss of his touch as it registers.
Egan stays rooted in place. His head shifts slightly on occasion, proving he’s examining the entire space and not staring down Malik the entire time.
I quickly grow restless watching the scene before me. While the atmosphere seems relaxed, it feels forced, at least for me. I’d rather be questioning the small coven that resides near the base of the mountains about the onyx I found, but this needs to be addressed first.
Egan shifts forward, and the muscles along his back flutter as if his wings, which are folded away, are keen to be unleashed. The main door opens seconds later, and I realize he was aware that someone was coming.
Sabastian, the road captain, ambles into the clubhouse. The dark circles under his eyes tell a story of sleepless nights. The scrape along his jaw and the crusted blood under his nose makes me question how hard it was for Reaper—who’s following the wolf shifter—to convince Sabastian to come inside.
Salvador bumps his shoulder into the wolf’s as he passes him none too gently. Sabastian and Harlow have known each other for ages, but something about the shifter’s demeanor feels off to me.
“Finally joining us, Sabastian?” I use his given name instead of his road title.
“I didn’t know there was business. I thought we had two weeks,” he answers quickly without stumbling over his words. Good, he may not be completely sober, but he’s not wasted.
“We’re not always afforded the luxury of customs, I’m afraid.” My tone is flat. The fact that I’m here, doing what I have to, while he was off getting shit-faced doesn’t sit right with me, but maybe I’m being too harsh.
Sabastian does a double take when he moves past Malik’s table. “Who the fuck are you?” the wolf demands, but he doesn’t wait for an answer as he moves closer to me. “It’s only been two days, right?” He rubs the side of his face as he eyes Egan, more proof that he’s been slacking.
