Emma laughed. “I’m not talking about his cock. Though I have absolutely no complaints.”
Briana shuddered. “Moving on.”
Unfortunately, Sorcha took the suggestion and ran with it, pinning Briana with a knowing gaze. “We could always talk about you finding your mate and hiding that fact from everyone.”
Perfect.
Emma glanced at Briana and then at the floor.
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed. “What was that? Are you in the loop, Em?” She stared hard at Briana. “Does she know who your mate is?”
“I didn’t tell her.” Which was the truth. Briana didn’t know how Emma had pieced it together, but guessed it had something to do with the sorceress and Cian crossing paths with Lucan in Vegas a while back. Since then, Emma had given her plenty of openings to talk about it, but Briana still wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed, the gesture almost masking her disappointment over being kept in the dark. “One of you two better start talking or I swear to the gods…” Sorcha trailed off, frowning at the gargoyle who shouldered his way to the bar.
The faint scent of ash lingered on the immortal despite the overpowering aftershave clinging to his skin. Dragon.
His gaze locked on Sorcha, and Briana rolled her eyes. Two other idiots had already tried picking a fight with Sorcha tonight and it hadn’t ended well for either of them. Obviously the dragon had missed how the last show ended or he would have rethought challenging the former huntress.
Briana stepped a little closer to Emma. The last thing she needed right now was Emma getting between Sorcha and the dragon the way she had with the last two. The smell of scorched jeans still hadn’t entirely faded, and as lucky as she’d been, Emma’s additional shots of alcohol since then couldn’t possibly be a good thing for her temperamental magic.
“Don’t I know you?” The dragon’s tone was accusing.
Sorcha tipped her head, considering. “You’re still alive, so I doubt it.” She turned her body, letting the dragon get a good look at the symbol on her arm band that still marked her as one of Rhiannon’s huntresses.
When Sorcha’s sword wasn’t enough of a deterrent—and any other time it usually was—immortals tended to back off when they recognized Rhiannon’s brand. Most gods either slept or couldn’t be bothered with the immortal races, but Rhiannon was the exception. Not only had she fallen in love with a human and gave birth to Arthur, but she recruited the huntresses that policed the immortal population. Few willingly tangled with those chosen to ensure humanity remained ignorant of Avalon at all costs.
The dragon apparently fell into the few category.
He bared his teeth at the sight of the symbol. His skin flickered iridescent along his jaw, betraying both his anger and the jewel-like tones of his scales. “You killed my brother.”
“You do know that as far as pick-up lines go, that’s hardly fresh material, right?”
Emma sighed dramatically. “Why is it always someone’s brother?”
A Fae close by snickered, and the dragon snarled before taking a threatening step toward Sorcha, his body shadowing her much smaller frame.
Ignoring Lucan’s teasing scent that continued to pull at her, Briana nudged Emma off the stool and back a few steps. She doubted the confrontation would escalate beyond trading insults, but if it did, Sorcha would need a little room to sweep the floor with him.
Without taking her eyes off the dragon, Sorcha shook her head. No doubt Cale was one leap from stepping in to protect his mate and she didn’t want him ruining her fun.
“Well, huntress,” the dragon began.
“Ex,” Briana felt compelled to add.
The dragon scowled at her, and she let her cat rise as close to the surface as she dared. She might not be the warrior that Sorcha was, but her brothers had made sure she could hold her own.
“Not worth it.” Emma touched her shoulder, and Briana noticed her claws were already out.
She blew out a breath, but it didn’t unlock one ounce of the tension that gripped her spine in an iron hold.
“You,” the dragon growled at Sorcha, “need to let me buy you a drink.” He grinned, and those close enough to witness the exchange let out the breaths they’d been holding. A few looked disappointed.
“Just one?” Sorcha winked.
The dragon reached a hand out, and then Cale was there, his cat in his eyes and a feral growl that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but a warning. Her brother might bend to Sorcha’s determination to fight her own battles—most of the time—but if another male looked at her too long, his claws came out.
Sorcha looped her arms around Cale’s neck. “Easy, tiger.”
Holding up his hands, the dragon backed off. “Just expressing my gratitude.”
Cale nodded grudgingly. “Try a thank-you card next time.”
With a tip of his head, the dragon disappeared into the crowd, leaving Sorcha to roll her eyes at her mate. “Was that really necessary?”
“No. But this is.” Sinking his fingers into her hair, Cale captured her mouth in a fierce kiss that had Briana on the verge of telling the pair to get a room.
The second she felt their collective attention shift to her, the same question she’d been dodging for weeks burning in their eyes, Briana mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and spun on her heel, squeezing her way into the crunch of bodies.
Next time she let herself be coerced into leaving her work, she damn well wouldn’t come here. Just because she was the youngest—and most vulnerable, in her brothers’ minds—didn’t mean she owed her brothers any explanations.
She was a stronger tracker than any of them, knew how to wield a sword equally with both hands thanks to Cian’s training, had been the one to push them kicking and screaming into the technological age, and yet they still seemed intent on believing she was somehow less capable.
When it came to their relationships with their mates, she hadn’t demanded any explanations and they certainly hadn’t offered any. More than once she’d been worried sick about what kind of trouble they’d landed themselves in. Tristan falling for a human. Cale seducing the lethal huntress sent to slaughter him for breaking the rules. Cian pursuing the sorceress he blamed for trapping him in his stone gargoyle state for a hundred years.
It didn’t matter that they’d spent centuries handling their own problems, and in the process inadvertently teaching her to do the same. The second they thought she was in trouble, they expected her to turn to them.
Given their overwhelming need to shelter her, it was surprising they’d confided the recent developments in Avalon. The growing whispers of an approaching Campaign—an immortal war to end all wars—weren’t to be taken lightly, and judging by the crowd tonight, many were completely oblivious to the fact that they might soon be forced to choose sides.
Dodging to the right to avoid a Fae and a human who stopped suddenly to make out, she slammed right into a familiar wall of warm muscle.
Briana did not look happy to see him, Lucan thought.
Even before she raised her head, her dark hair framing her face in untamed waves, tension turned her soft, warm curves hard and unyielding. He ordered himself to let go of her, to lower the hands gently gripping her waist, but it took another few seconds for his brain to get the message.
Only days ago he’d been determined to get far away from her, unable to take another moment of her innocent touching. He hadn’t needed her softness or compassion, didn’t deserve or want either, but standing this close he felt part of himself foolishly wishing for it.
Idiot.
A second before she stepped back, he could swear her body leaned into his just a fraction. More wishful thinking?