“Either that or this leads outside—you could be simply following the trail she left on entering the building,” Levi pointed out.
“Only one way to know for sure.” Tanner latched onto the scent again and followed it, prowling through the lobby. He halted, because there were two threads of Muriel’s scent. One led to the reception area, but it was faint. The other thread was fresher, and it seemed to head in a whole other direction.
Honing his senses on the fresher thread, Tanner stalked out of the lobby, passing the sitting area, bar, gift shop … and walked right into a small café.
Dozens of distracting scents assaulted him. Fresh-brewed coffee. Ground beans. Baked goods. Orange juice. Chocolate. Vanilla. Cinnamon. Herbal tea. Tomato soup. Sweet desserts—it went on and on.
A sharp pain struck him right between his eyebrows that felt much like brain-freeze. A pain he wouldn’t have felt if he hadn’t been extending his sense of smell so much. It was like when you strained to hear something, and then a loud noise came at you from nowhere and hurt your ears.
Tanner shook his head. “I think she came in here hoping I’d lose her scent.”
“Have you?” asked Knox.
“Yes. But I’ll find it again.” He was a fucking alpha hellhound, for Christ’s sake.
Closing his eyes, Tanner dragged the surrounding scents into his lungs, filtering through the café-scents in addition to the perfume, cologne, hairspray, lemon cleaner, air conditioning, fresh flowers—
Frosted cherries and cream. Tanner opened his eyes. “I’ve got her.”
He clung to the scent with metaphorical hands and followed it out of the café, passing the restaurant and conference room, before turning down a carpeted hallway where the scent became stronger.
Blood buzzing with the thrill that always came with being close to his prey—whether it be a person or object—Tanner quickened his pace, following the trail to the end of the hallway. He shoved open the fire exit door and found himself in a stairwell.
The scent took him down two flights of steps toward … “Fuck, the basement. We should have fucking guessed she’d plant it in the one place that destroyed her fucking life.” Even if it wasn’t the exact same basement where she’d suffered the abuse.
Knox cursed. “Step aside. I’d sure like to know how she got in here without knowing the code. Then again, it wouldn’t be impossible. I can do it easily enough.” He didn’t punch a code into the keypad near the basement door. Just sent out a brief wave of power that pushed it right open. Inside, he flicked on a switch.
Tanner glanced around. It was nothing whatsoever like Richie’s basement. It had been converted into a clean, bright storage space for hotel supplies—including food, bedsheets, towels, complimentary toiletries, and gift shop stock.
Locking onto Muriel’s scent once more, Tanner advanced further into the basement. The scent took him deeper and deeper into the large space. “I hear a faint beeping.” And the scent was leading him right to it. He hastened his pace, his heart beating fast, his blood still buzzing with—
There was an audible click in the air. A glass wall slammed up in front of them. And on their left. And on their right. And behind them. And above them. It happened in under a millisecond.
And now they were fucking contained by a glass fucking cube.
No, it wasn’t glass. The transparent wall seemed fluid, like water. He touched it. Hissed. The fucker was ice-cold. And it buzzed with power.
Levi hurled balls of hellfire at it, but the water instantly doused them, making them sizzle as they faded to nothing. “The fuck?”
Then a bulky figure stepped out of the shadows. It took a moment for Tanner to place that familiar face. “Foreman.” And if his expression was anything to go by, he wasn’t there to help them. He was there to stop them. No, trap them … like any good ensnarer. Well, fuck.
Muriel spared him, he said to Knox.
Her demon said he never voted for her, the Prime reminded him. She must have convinced him to work with her. As an ensnarer, he could have kept the victims still for her while she hurt them. Shit, I can’t pyroport out of this. Royal has definitely gained in power over the years if he can form traps that block forms of teleportation. That’s not to say we can’t get out of here, just that it’s going to take time.
Which meant they were dead if they didn’t find some way to get out before the bomb detonated. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jaw hard, Finn followed the newcomer as they headed toward the living room. “We agreed that you should wait in the car.” Hearing footsteps behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “Jo, what are you—”
“Jo is with me,” said Leticia just as this Jo person closed the door behind her.
Leticia smiled. “Hello, Devon. You’re a hard woman to get alone. Eric let me in the building, gentleman that he is. I’m afraid he won’t be joining us.”
Finn planted his fists on his hips. “I told you I would deal with this, Let—”
“I’m not here to confront her over the accusations she slung at Reena,” Leticia told him. Then she nodded at her friend. “Jo.”
Just like that, a heavy weight clamped around Devon’s body, pinning her still. She tried moving. Failed. Seriously, it was like someone had encased her in steel from her shoulders all the way down to her toes. Fuck.
Panic struck her hard, making bile rise in her throat and causing her breathing to turn quick and shallow. The feeling of being trapped would never be something she handled well. It always took her back to that sweltering hot car.
Her feline went berserk. Wanted freedom so that it could rip Leticia apart limb from fucking limb. The dark power inside Devon’s belly was just as wild, eager to be released; eager to protect and defend. But it, too, was trapped.
Her ribs suddenly seemed too tight, and she felt like she just couldn’t get enough air. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut down the panic before she hyperventilated. She forced herself to take a deep breath. And another. And another. And another.
“I know you got away from that last incantor, Devon, but I can assure you that Jo is far too powerful for anyone other than another incantor to take on,” said Leticia.
Maybe, thought Devon, opening her eyes. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t get free sooner or later. Leticia didn’t need to know that, though. She also didn’t need to know that Devon’s demon intended to rip out her throat. “Tanner will come.”
Smugness glittered in Leticia’s eyes. “No, he won’t. You see, the magick surrounding you won’t just keep you still, it will put a block on whatever psychic link the mark on your palm gives you to him. He has no idea just how badly you need him right now.”
Panic threatened to consume her once more, but Devon forced it back down. When the magick finally lost its hold on her—which it eventually would—he’d feel that she was in danger. She could only hope that it happened before Leticia had a chance to kill her, which she clearly intended to do.
Realization hit Finn, who also appeared unable to move, and his eyes widened in horror as he stared at his woman. “No.”
Leticia gave him a smile filled with mock pity. “Oh, yes.”