Two nightclubs run by non-humans.
She gave him a sly smile. “I could use a cold beer.”
He smiled right back at her, shook his head and then nodded towards the door. “Come on then. We can walk. Fix this flat butt of mine.”
Evelyn slid a sidelong look at it as he walked past her, rounding the end of the row of desks. It wasn’t flat at all. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but he could sit in a chair most of the day and not ruin one hell of a fantastic backside. She wasn’t the only one who stole a peek at it either. Several of the women in the room also tiptoed to see past the monitors to him as he strode towards the door, a sensual shift to his movements that made him look like a panther on the prowl.
On a satisfied sigh, she pushed to her feet and followed him, resisting the temptation to continue admiring the view.
“Swing by my quarters first? I need to grab some things.” By things, she meant her favourite tranquiliser gun, just in case things got a little wild.
Archer nodded as she fell into step beside him, and she led the way to her quarters in the dormitory wing of the enormous building. She ditched her water bottle and grabbed her holster, wrangling her arms into it so her pistol sat snug against her ribs, and then turned back towards Archer where he waited in the doorway.
He reached around to his left, unhooked her black leather jacket and tossed it at her. “Might want to cover that piece.”
She slipped her arms into the worn leather and smoothed it over her ribs so it concealed her weapon and then grabbed the pack of darts from the side table near him. He waited for her to pocket them and then turned around and stepped back into the cream hallway. She closed the door behind her and followed him down through the building, across the large bright foyer and out into the night.
The air was cool against her damp hair and she breathed deep of it, savouring it as if it was a fine wine, not thick with the scents of London. She glanced back at the elegant sandstone building as they left it behind, a place that had been her home for years now, since Archer had saved her life the first time.
“Let’s cut through here.” Archer pointed to the park and she immediately went on high alert, her focus narrowing to the shadows that clung to the trees.
If Archer switched his focus to looking for danger, he didn’t show it. He casually jammed his hands into the pockets of his black combat trousers and tipped his head back to gaze at the night sky.
“I’m not sure how you can be so calm about walking through a pitch-black park.” Evelyn scanned the darkness, her cheeks warming a little as she tried to pick out whether anyone was lurking in the patches of black beneath the trees. She absently touched her face when it grew hotter and her head felt a little foggy.
What was wrong with her these days?
She kept feeling flushed, hot all over, and she was starting to worry that her wound was infected even though the doctor at her latest check-up said she wasn’t showing any signs of infection.
“You all right?” Archer stopped and caught her arm. He pulled her around to face him, a soft look of concern etched on his face as he studied her. When he lifted his hand and touched her cheek, she almost gasped. It was so cool against her flesh, a blissful relief from the heat that scalded her cheeks. “Maybe we should forget about getting a beer and head back. You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.”
She locked up tight, her muscles clamping down on her bones as movement just beyond him caught her eye and she looked there. Her gaze collided with that of a man who was running right at Archer’s back and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.
He was handsome.
Gorgeous even.
And strangely familiar.
Evelyn frowned at him, trying to place him as heat bloomed in her veins and she fought the sudden wave of desire that threatened to steal her breath.
She saw a flash of him in the courtyard of a dark grey stone castle.
Felt the cold bite of steel in her side again.
He had been there.
His gaze shifted to Archer and narrowed, and panic lanced her, the haze of desire swift to dissipate as she realised he meant to attack her friend.
She barked, “Stop right there.”
And drew her gun.
Chapter 2
Guilt gnawed at Fenix’s stomach as he stepped out of the teleport into the grand entrance hall of his home in the heart of the Scottish Highlands.
Would the little witch be all right with the mad elf prince? Maybe taking Rosalind with him instead would have been the wiser move, but stealing her away from her mate would have been a death sentence. The last thing Fenix needed after spending months locked in a cell in that dank demon castle in the Fifth Realm was a powerful and dangerous male hunting him down to slaughter him.
Although Fenix suspected that Vail would draw out his death, savouring it and ensuring it was as painful as possible.
And not because he was insane.
Fenix wasn’t a stranger to the crazy things being mated made a male do.
Case in point, he had been so caught up in tailing his own mate that he had ended up captured by the same demons who had cornered and overwhelmed her team of mortals. Frayne, the king of the Fifth Realm at that time, had ordered their deaths and forced Fenix to watch as he had skewered his mate through the side with a sword.
Fenix relived that moment every time he tried to sleep.
Had spent countless hours deliberating the things he could have done differently and how they might have affected the outcome, fully aware that he couldn’t change the past.
His mate was dead.
Stolen from him before he could even accidentally make her fall in love with him this time.
The end result would be the same—her body teleporting to somewhere far from him, her rebirth happening, and her not remembering anything. By now, she could be anywhere, adjusted to her missing memories and living a new life without him.
And while part of him wanted to leave her to that life and wished her all the happiness in the world, the rest of him had been restless and eager to find her from the moment he had felt her vanish from the courtyard of the demon king.
He wasn’t sure whether he felt a powerful urge to find her because he loved her and couldn’t live without her or because of the curse.
Maybe it was a mix of both of those things.
But as always, he was back to square one. He had no lead on her new location, no clue as to how to find her, and still didn’t feel any closer to tracking down the mage who had done this to them, condemning them both to a miserable eternity.
Fenix felt sure the bastard was still alive—that he had chosen the path of immortality like all blood mages now. Or at least he hoped that was the case. Drystan had to be alive. It felt as if all of Fenix’s hope hinged on it. He needed a reason to keep going, to keep searching, something more than potentially finding a cure for this curse in the research of other mages.
One of his small clan came out from the drawing room to his right, took one look at him and turned around and walked away.
Fenix cast a grim look down at himself, not blaming the young incubus for making a fast exit. He was a mess, every inch of his bare chest covered in grime and his low-slung black jeans caked with dirt and other unmentionable things. His hair was long and shaggy, his nails needed a damned good clipping, and his beard was irritating. He probably looked like a homeless person who had wandered into the mansion.