“Are you stalking me now?” she demanded in a whispered hiss.
Her tail lashed against my leg. Up close, I could see the fine barbs along its length, the way it moved with her emotions. Black horns emerged from her temples, curling upward against sleek dark hair. She was all lean muscle and dangerous curves, and the scent of cinnamon and smoke clung to her skin, stronger now with her anger.
“Me?” I kept my voice low. “I’m not the one following strangers in the dead of night.”
Which was rich coming from me, considering I’d followed her here after spotting her skulking through the empty market. I’d been on my way to meet a date at One Hop Stop when I realized I’d left my favorite carving knife at the booth. Should’ve been a simple errand. Get in, grab the knife, get out.
Then I’d seen her—the spitfire from Vintage Baby—creeping after her boss like a shadow.
“Let go of me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And mind your own business.”
I released her wrist but didn’t step back. We were wedged between stacked market crates and the back of a wooden stall. If I moved, she’d bolt, and that muscle by the shed would spot her in seconds.
“When I see someone acting suspiciously in my territory, it becomes my business.” I kept my voice low, though part of me wanted to throw her over my shoulder and get her far away from whatever dangerous game she was playing.
“I’m not ‘acting suspiciously.’“ She lifted her chin. “I’m investigating.”
“Investigating what?”
“None of your concern.” She pressed against my chest, trying to slip past. “I have this under control.”
I caught her hip, keeping her in place. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin—warmer than any human’s, almost feverish. Her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat, and I found myself staring at that spot, wondering if it would taste as spicy as she smelled.
“Really, Red?” I traced my thumb along the curve of her hip. “Is that why your heart’s racing?”
“That’s called anger.” The lie dripped from her tongue as sweet as honey.
A sound from around the corner made us both freeze. Lydia’s voice carried through the darkness, dripping with false warmth.“Francis. What a pleasure. I’m sure you’ll find the craftsmanship worth slinking out of your little cave.”
I shifted enough to peer over the crates. Instead of the burly guard I’d spotted earlier, a tall, thin man stood with Lydia.
I scanned the shadows, searching for movement. Nothing. The guard had vanished like smoke, and that set every instinct screaming. No professional would abandon his post without reason. But when the muscle disappeared, things tended to turn ugly fast.
“I trust you brought what we discussed,” the man answered, each word measured and precise.
“Of course.” Lydia’s jewelry clinked softly as she adjusted the package under her arm. “Though I must say, your initial offer was… disappointing.”
“The market determines value.”
“The market knows nothing of items like these.”
Paper rustled as Lydia and Francis huddled over something small that glinted with a reddish light. I couldn’t make out the item, but whatever Lydia held made the air feel heavy and charged, like the moment before lightning struck.
Rava’s reaction was instant—a sharp intake of breath and a jerk forward. I pressed her back against the wall, one hand splayed across her stomach. The contact sent a jolt of heat through my palm.
“Are you here to steal from her?” I demanded. New girl in town, following her boss through the night… The job could be legitimate employment, or cover for an ulterior motive.
“You don’t understand.” Frustration edged her words. “They have something that belongs to me.”
I arched a brow. “So call the cops.”
“The police?” She let out a bitter snort. “You think a bunch of humans are capable of dealing with ifrit concerns?”
“Unless your kind has some hidden talent for glamor, the only concerning ifrit I see isyou.”I leaned closer, inhaling that intoxicating scent of cinnamon and smoke. “Best start explaining.”
“I don’t have to tell you shit. Back. Off.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
There were plenty of mercenary groups who specialized in supernatural justice, and plenty others who thought it best to police their own. But skulking around didn’t have a whiff of official channels to it, which meant she didn’t trust them or whatever she was after wasn’t exactly legal.
