“Is there anything else we need to do today while we’re waiting to hear back from Marx?”
“No, but as soon as he gives us the green light to check things out, we’ll be headed for a ley line,” he tells me.
My stomach sinks a little at the thought of dissolving into molecules and snapping back together so hard that I pass out. What if I don’t pass out this time, but actually feel it? A shudder runs through me, and I push those thoughts far...far away.
“Fair enough,” I concede with an audible swallow. “In the meantime then, is there anywhere around here that I can get bones? I have a tea to make.”
My knee bounces with excitement and nervous anticipation as we fly down a winding hilly road.
“So, is there anything I need to know about meeting a lycan clan?” I ask, lifting my thumb to my mouth so I can anxiously bite my nail. Rogan looks over, his eyes dipping to my lips again, and I drop my hand and scold myself for the nervous habit.
“Um, they’re pretty much just like you and me, only their magic gives them four legs and the ability to lick their own balls.”
I almost choke on a laugh, not expecting that answer, and shoot Rogan a sympathetic look. “Are you jealous?” I coo at him. He shakes his head and tries to fight the smile twitching at his lips.
“There’s no rules about eye contact or anything like that?” I question, not wanting to do anything that will cause any trouble.
“I mean, I wouldn’t go challenging anyone to a staring contest or sniff anyone’s ass in greeting. Just be normal, you’ll be fine.”
“No ass sniffing, got it.”
“Elon and I’ve worked with this clan as far back as I can remember. Our uncles procured through them too. A lot of witches around the country hire them to source things; they won’t think anything of us stopping by for some bones. In fact, we’ve picked a good day to drop in; tomorrow is Fall Equinox, and the full moon isn’t too far away. They’re probably celebrating already,” he tells me with a conspiratorial wag of his eyebrows.
I pull in a deep breath. I don’t know which is more concerning, meeting lycans in general or drunk lycans. Guess I’m about to find out.
Rogan slows as he approaches a large iron-barred gate. There’s a house-sized security lodge to the right of us, and he maneuvers the car toward it and rolls the window down. A guard inside walks toward the glass slider separating us. He opens it and proceeds to stare into the car.
“Rogan Kendrick and Lennox Osseous to see Riggs and Viv,” he states to the guard.
“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asks, his nostrils flaring as though he’s scenting us.
“Yes, I called and made one just over an hour ago.”
Another guard walks over and hands the first a tablet. The lycan at the window looks it over and then nods at Rogan once. “Please exit your vehicle so it, and you, can be searched,” the guard declares, and then he shuts the slider and walks away.
“Well, that’s new,” Rogan mumbles as he puts his car in park and unbuckles himself. I do the same, stepping out of the car and onto the damp bracken of the forest floor. I’m surrounded by trees taller than buildings. There’s the smell of rain on the air, and I suspect we must have just missed the storm. I look around at the endless expanse of forest, and it’s exactly what I pictured when Rogan told me where we’d be getting bones.
Two beefy guards tromp out of the lodge and make their way over to us. The one with brown hair and a smattering of freckles on his nose rounds the car toward me. He gives me a Colgate grin as his eyes drop down to my feet and slowly climb back up. “Do you mind if I search you, miss?” he asks politely, and I hold out my arms.
“Go for it,” I tell him nonchalantly, and he bends and starts patting around my ankles.
His hands move up one calf and then the other. They skim my thighs and then dip into the top of my jeans, circling the waist band. He runs the back of his hands over my stomach, flipping them over to guide his wide palms up my back, and I notice he’s pulling in deep breaths of air as he goes. His long fingers find my scalp and part my wildly curly hair in search for anything that could be used against him. His fingers feel good against my scalp, and I have to actively stop myself from closing my eyes and leaning into the touch.
Playing with my hair is my kryptonite.
He gently tugs on the hair at the base of my skull, and it forces me to tilt my head back. I bite back a moan. I meet bright silver eyes and a salacious smile as the guard frisking me runs his hands over the tops of my shoulders and then drops them down my arms.
“All clear,” he states evenly, his intense gaze unmoving from mine. “Welcome to the Bristow Clan, miss.”
“Thank you,” I respond, just a little breathless.
His grin grows infinitesimally wider. “Sorry for the search, but we can never be too careful.”
I shrug and shake my head. “No apology needed, I’m happy to oblige,” I reassure him, a flirty smile now cresting my lips. I check him out as he steps back. He’s lean and fit and, I suspect, filled with all kinds of stamina.
“Are you staying for the festivities tonight?” he asks as he slowly backs away, his eyes suddenly gleaming as though they’re lit from within.
I’m completely captivated by them.
“Um, I don’t know,” I confess as he rounds the car back toward the security lodge.
“Well, I’ll keep an eye out later...just in case,” he tells me, a delicious grit to his voice, and then he disappears back into the house.
I stare after him for a moment, and then Rogan clears his throat loudly, snapping me out of my creeper mode. Heat crawls up my neck, and I pull the passenger door open and climb back into the car. I busy myself with getting buckled in and fluffing my curls, and the next thing I know the iron gate is sliding open and granting us entry.
“Well, that was interesting,” I observe casually as I work to get a hold of my hormones.
“Mmm,” Rogan agrees with an irritated man grunt. “Seems they’re very personable these days,” he adds, his eyes fixed intensely on the road.
The paved path abruptly turns to packed dirt, and we drive for a couple of miles before coming across a large gathering of lycans. We park and climb out of the SUV, and I’m greeted by happy chatter, laughter and the smell of BBQ.
We park just outside of an enclosure that has little kids running around in it, chasing after random animals. I watch the excitement for a moment, a smile on my face as peals of childish laughter reach me. A little girl catches a snow white bunny, and in a move so fast I would have missed it if I blinked, she grows fangs and tears into the neck of the trapped animal. My hand shoots up to my mouth, trapping the gasp I just inhaled, and I watch as all the adults around the enclosure cheer and reach for the little girl, lifting her up in celebration.
I turn wide, stunned eyes on Rogan. “Just like us?” I lob at him, with an arched, incredulous eyebrow.
He just shrugs, a cheeky grin taking over one corner of his lush mouth.
Fucker.
I shoo away my shock, not wanting to offend anyone, and a pair of lycans break away from the crowd and move toward us. A brute of a man with a long easy stride closes the distance. His hair is a rich soil-brown, but his long beard is bright ginger. The obsidian-haired woman next to him could give an Amazon a run for her money, and as they get closer, I look around and realize that lycans have dipped many a toe in the hot as fuck gene pool.