Well…
I let myself imagine it. A collar around my throat as Stryker forces me to kneel in front of him, tugging on the leash andcommanding me to unzip those black military pants that cling to his muscular thighs. The stream of praises he’d give me as he fucked my mouth until he couldn’t take it anymore, coming down the back of my throat like he was branding me ashis.His to protect. His to fuck. His to care for.
“Kiara?” Stryker uses his knuckle to tip my chin up to face him. “You’re looking a little warm. Here, take off your jacket.” Without waiting for confirmation, he slides my coat off my shoulders and folds it over his arm. With his free hand, he captures mine and leads me to a booth selling water bottles and buys us each one, watching me drink half before taking a sip of his own. “Feeling better?”
What I’mfeelingis horny, but I’m not about to admit that, so instead, I finish off my bottle of water like I was dying of thirst instead of just being a thirsty bitch lusting after my patient. He came to me for help, and so far, he’s been the one helping me. I need to get my head on straight and focus on what he hired me to do; cure his power glitch problem.
“Yeah, just got a little overheated. Let’s get back to it, I want to see if there’s anything here I hadn’t considered that might be useful for you.”
You can never tell a human from a myst until they use an ability that gives them away, so we wander the room, searching booths for someone discreetly selling things geared toward mystics, hiding in plain sight. That is, unless you’re part mimic. For me, the hardest part is sifting through the white noise of a crowd to find what I’m looking for, similar to Bluetooth searching for signals it can pair with. Used to be a perfect way to assess potential threats until it started making me sick.
As soon as I tap into the ability, I’m drawn to the back left corner where there’s a massive concentration of mysts gathered in a small space, and frown. There isn’t a crowd there, so it mustbe a connected room. Maybe there’s another event going down in the adjoining hall?
Heading that way, we end up finding the jackpot at the end of a line of booths, tucked away in a corner. Various vials of liquids and small jars of powder cover the table, all of the packaging disguised as a perfectly reasonable cover. It’s clever. He’s marketing them as home remedies for pets which keeps nearly all the humans away, not wanting to risk anything like that for their babies, while ‘theming’ his packaging off of various mythological creatures that show what he’s really selling. Unicorn blood for ‘aches and pains’, iridescent powder in mermaid themed packaging for ‘skin rejuvenation.’
While Stryker gets caught up haggling with the vendor for some amulet, a voice at the next booth pulls my attention. “-a real pretty fox. Damn near pure white with a touch of red, and you know how rare that beauty is. Auction starts in twenty.” I glance over as he passes the man a black business card, no text, only a prominent, red foiled sun flanked by crossed swords in the center.
Shit.
I’ve seen that symbol before, on a truck I freed a young griffin from a while back. I’m not sure who they are, but they’re organized. If I want to have any hope of freeing that fox before it’s sold, I don’t have time to waste.
Discreetly, I look at Stryker a few steps away, debating my options. He’s already made his stance clear on me wandering off alone because of the potential danger. If I were to tell him I planned to walk straight into it, he’d lose his shit and haul my ass out of here. Then that fox would wind up Fates only know where and for what purpose. Because anyone buying animals on the black market?
They plan to get their money’s worth out of them.
“I need to run to the bathroom.”
Stryker steps away from his conversation instantly without a shred of remorse that the other guy was mid-sentence. “Sure, let’s go.” His hand finds my lower back as he guides me through the throng of people, a buffer between me and the crowd so not a soul bumps into me. Everything about his style of protectiveness is so natural, it’s easy to get swept away by it. It makes me yearn for things I have no business wanting, but I can’t help but believe that being loved by Stryker Thorn is an experience I’d never recover from. He’s the kind of man that gives you his undivided attention without ever asking for it, that takes care of people whether or not they’re part of his inner circle because he’s simply… good like that. But those that make the cut? Get a type of steadfast loyalty I can only dream about.
Do I feel bad about turning him into an accessory to a crime? A little. Am I going to do it anyway? Absolutely. Getaway drivers have the most important job in any crime, so he should feel honored, really.
Yeah, I’m not buying it either. But better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Once we’re outside the bathrooms, he pulls a knife from his pocket, placing it in my palm and curling my fingers around it firmly. “Anyone tries something, don’t hesitate.”
I almost say something stupid like ‘it’s just the bathroom, I’m not going to get jumped.’ But in reality? Bathrooms are notorious for assaults because there aren’t any cameras. And knowing that there’s a black market auction happening in the adjoining hall? You bet your ass I clip that knife to my waistband.
“Thank you. Seriously, this means a lot.”
He sighs. “I don’t know what sort of assholes you’ve been around, but I desperately want to knock some sense into them. You don’t have to thank me for basic human decency, Kiara.”
“Yeah, actually. I do.”
His stormy grey eyes glint, but I slip into the bathroom before he can argue the point. Because basic human decency is adults not talking shit about the ‘broken’ little girl my poor brother was saddled with raising without checking she wasn’t within earshot first. It’s not having to assume every single stranger is a threat simply because I’m a woman.
It’s getting agoddamnexplanation for why your fated mate rejected you.
Resting my forehead against the door, I take a second to regroup; just one. Because there’s no time for pity parties in a world that doesn’t give a shit about your feelings.
Flipping the lock as quietly as possible, I rush over to one of the stalls and carefully climb up the back of the toilet so I can reach the air vent, extra grateful for Stryker’s knife now. Only slicing my finger once, I get the screws off and the grate onto the floor, hauling myself inside. After I heal the cut to ensure I don’t leave evidence behind, I army crawl through the layer of dust, biting my tongue to cope with the pain. I use the concentration of mysts as a beacon to guide me around the twists and turns, hurrying as much as possible. The last thing I want is to be gone for twenty minutes and him to think I’m in here with diarrhea or something equally embarrassing.
Finally, I find another grate and peer through the slats, frowning as I scan the room and try to make sense of the scene. But the longer I stare, the sicker reality feels. Crates upon crates are stacked in a storeroom, with several empty cages against one wall. Only one is filled, a kitsune curled in on itself in the center, as if it’s trying to shrink down until it disappears from this nightmare. No fox in sight. But I’m picking up on a myst’s energy signature in the room, despite the fact that nobody’s here. Or at least, from this vantage point. The more I tune into it though, the more I realize I may be way in over my head. Because it’s a shifter’s ability I’m sensing.
And the kitsune is the only soul in the room.
Red-tipped, silvery-white ears twitch before it glances up to where I’m hiding, blue eyes widening and rapidly shaking their head. When I ignore them and pop the grate out, they shift back, slinging an arm over a very naked pair of breasts and vehemently whispers, “You have to get out of here! He’ll be back any minute.”
That seals it for me and I lower myself as much as possible before dropping onto one of the crates stacked up beneath the air duct, then jumping down to the smooth, painted concrete floor. “Then we better hurry the fuck up and get you out of here.”
