Irritated, I took a sniff—then realized the belt wasn’t saying this just to play the part of smart-ass sensei. Though I could vaguely detect the scent of her dogs, Roxie and Buster, clinging to the rug, and a whiff of her subtle jasmine-and-vanilla perfume, it was hard to say how long it had been since she’d last been here. More than a few days. The sheets had been washed since then. Somehow I could tell by how much the chemical tang of the laundry detergent had dissipated that it had been longer than a week.
My attention was so fixed on trying to figure out by smell what the hell had happened, I didn’t notice Wesley sneaking up behind me until he took me down in a flying tackle onto the bed.
We bounced a couple times on the mattress. I managed to roll before he got a good grip, landing with a jolt on my hands and knees on the floor on the other side.
“Come back here!” He moved to follow me, but I kicked him in the face when he leaned over the edge, reaching for me.
With a vicious snarl, his head snapped back, and he clutched at his jaw. I caught a glimpse of fang before I turned away. While he was distracted, I stumbled to my feet and made another run for it.
Clarisse smoothly stepped out of my way. The bookie vampiress, who had been watching from the bedroom door, held her hands up and gave me awry smile. “Just watching. Go on, now.”
“Damn it, Clarisse, you could help me here,” Wesley griped. She made no move to stop me as I fled past.
“Wouldn’t be fair odds if I interfered. You know the rules.”
Wes cursed, and I heard the slight thump of his feet hitting the ground. No doubt he was after me again.
‘Of course he is. Run.’
My hair was coming loose of the tight bun I’d put it in. I reached up to tear it free, the long red strands flaring out behind me as I dashed out of the apartment, past a gaping Christoph, Sebastian, and Thad, and straight for Mouse.
This night was not going as planned and required some reevaluation. I had to get out of here so I could think it through and see if I could dig up any leads on where Royce might have hidden Sara. If Mouse kept out of it like Clarisse so obviously was, I could slip out the front door and be gone in seconds.
She didn’t.
I yelped when she grabbed my arm as I passed, using my own momentum against me to spin me around and hurl me back the way I had come. Damn her for smiling at me while she did it, like this was all some stupid game. The men flattened against the walls so I wouldn’t plow into them as I flew by. Once I touched down, my boots left streaks on the hardwood, and I slid on my butt right into Wesley’s legs. He stared down at me with narrowed eyes, rubbing his jaw.
“Come on, Shia!” Christoph called. I was grateful until he added, “I’ve got twenty bucks riding on this thing. Get up!”
So much for moral support.
Wes wasn’t impressed, either. “You finished yet?”
“Not yet,” I huffed, going into another roll so I could crouch a few feet away from him. I started to reach for a stake, but he’d already closed the distance and grabbed my arms, not giving me a chance to draw a weapon. Christoph and Sebastian’s cheers were more distracting than helpful, and for a second I wished mightily they’d just shut the hell up.
I hooked one leg around Wes’s and yanked, then shoved when the unexpected move put him off-balance. Though I’d hoped he’d let me go, he clung tight, dragging me with him to the floor. We grappled, me panting for every breath, him grinning up at me like this was his idea of a good time.
“My kind of woman.”
The bastard had the gall to wink at me.
Even though I knew he was using the same tactic I’d used on Simon the other evening to make him vacate my couch, it still infuriated me beyond reason. With a hiss, I managed to slide one of my arms up Wes’s torso. I couldn’t quite reach far enough to claw his face, but I did dig my nails into his skin just above his shirt collar hard enough to draw blood. His chest vibrated with a rumble of laughter under my hand.
“Mr. Royce never mentioned you were so feisty. Two ways to do this, sugar. Either way, I’ll have a time of it.”
It surprised me when he pushed me up by my upper arms, lifting me off his chest. He only did it to fit a foot under my stomach and send me sailing over him to land in a painful sprawl on my back a few feet away.
Gasping for air, I watched upside down as he kipped to his feet. Though my back had started up an ominous ache, and my head was killing me, I rolled over onto my stomach and managed to get my feet under me. My sense of balance was MIA, so I scooted backwards until my back hit the wall behind me, and I got to one knee. The belt was too busy trying to handle the injuries and restore my balance to make any smart remarks.
Wes stalked closer, moving like the predator he was, not stopping until he was standing over me.
“Falling head over heels for me, baby?” I flipped him off with a scowl. He laughed again. “Come on, tell me you’ve had enough. You can take a breather on my couch while we wait for Mr. Royce.”
‘Don’t do it. You’re ready. Go!’
My response at the belt’s urging was to dart forward, using the tip of a stake to slash a line through Wes’s shirt and skin, sending him stumbling back. He regarded me with shock, his fingertips brushing over the dark streak of blood like he couldn’t believe I’d cut him. Even with the magical properties imbued in the silver, the shallow wound was already visibly closing. Freaky.
Still, it gave me the warm fuzzies to know I had the power to surprise him like that. And everyone else, too, apparently. No one else in the hall had said a word.
“Don’t get too torn up about it,” I said, winking at Wes. He gaped at me.
Then I took off for the stairwell.
Footsteps pounded behind me. Several of them. I imagined my audience was following on Wes’s heels as he pursued me.
I wondered why he wasn’t putting that supernatural speed of his to better use. As fast as I was with the belt, he was old enough to run rings around me while I hastened up the stairs.
I had my answer once I reached the third floor. Clarisse was leaning in the doorway leading to the roof. Not wanting to risk a repeat of the show with Mouse, I gestured frantically for her to move—Wes was hot on my heels.
“Get out of the way!”
She ignored my demand, that sly smile of hers widening until her fangs were showing. “Now, now, ma mhuirnín. ‘Tisn’t a fair fight if ye run off ’afore the game is through.”
Cursing under my breath, I took the only other option open to me—I ran into Royce’s quarters, slamming the door open and rushing for the nearest window. They were locked tight, the shutters down. Fuck, that left me trapped in the building with not one but two ancient elders guarding the only ways out.
Clarisse re-stationed herself at the door after Wes stalked inside. She shut it behind her and folded her arms, assuming a bodyguard stance that would have been impressive on someone a little taller.
As for Wes, he slowed once he saw I had stopped running, and he padded toward me on light feet. Ready to cut me off if I tried to escape again.
“Come on, now. Stop playing these games. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” The bright, excited gleam to his eye spoke otherwise. “Mr. Royce won’t be happy if we destroy his artwork. Let’s just find a place to have a seat and wait, hmm?”
I darted to the closest window, scooting around some spotlighted statuary to throw my weight against the shutters in hopes of breaking them and escaping outside. The metal shuddered at the impact, but didn’t give.
Wes didn’t give me the opportunity to regain my balance. Before I knew it, my face was plastered against the cold metal, his fingers digging into the back of my neck.