“Whatever,” the male snapped as he glared up at her. “You were the one who distracted me.”
Shoot, she’d spoken that out loud. But whatever was right.
“Haven’t you heard of the no-fraternizing rule?” she gritted. “You shouldn’t be here in the first place.”
“Says the female who was also in the crowd.”
Mae put her hands on her hips and leaned down at him. “I’m allowed to go where I please, it’s not the dark ages of vampires anymore.”
“Oh, so you have freedom, but I don’t because I’m a male. How convenient—”
“I wasn’t bare-knuckle fighting with them!”
“So you only came to bet? Then, oh, yeah, you’re totally aboveboard in all this.”
Mae ground her molars—and thought seriously about walking over and kicking him in the leg. Or maybe the ass. Either way, she’d love to give him something to worry about other than his aching head.
“I did not come to gamble—”
“Was it for sex, then? ’Cuz you might get further if you showed some skin. You look like you could be someone’s mother.”
Mae rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, I’m going to take sartorial advice from a three-hundred-pound walking ad for death. Haven’t you ever heard of false advertising, though? ’Cuz last time I checked, you were getting sliced open by a human—”
The male threw up his hands. “Because someone we know was telling me not to kill the sonofabitch!”
“You shouldn’t be killing anybody!”
“Well, aren’t you two the happy couple.”
At the sound of the dry male voice, both of them looked to the shadows where a large figure loomed in the darkness.
Without missing a beat, she and the fighter both spoke at the same time:
“We’re not a couple—”
“We’re not a couple—”
The chuckle that emanated from that corner was a yeah-sure if Mae had ever heard one—but then she was suddenly more worried about her life and safety than whether she was linked with Skeletor over here.
And P.S., survival should have been her priority in the first place.
As her hand dipped into her purse for her mace, the source of the voice stepped into a patch of ambient glow. “I’m going to request that you keep your weapons where they are, thanks. And that includes you, Shawn.”
Shawn?
She looked over at the fighter. And then refocused on what had come to join them.
Okay, this male was . . . nothing like what she would have expected to see in a decrepit part of town. He was tall, he was big, and his face did belong in a lineup of people who’d murdered their enemies in very messy ways. So yes, all that fit the bill—as did his cropped Mohawk. But he was wearing a floor-length fur duster, and the gold cane that was aiding him with his balance made him seem like he was on the way to the opera—
On that note, “Shawn” got to his feet and moved the mountain of his body in front of her. Like he wanted to protect her.
“Relax, big man, I’m not going to hurt her,” the other male said dryly.
“Damn right,” Shawn shot back. “Because I’m not going to give you the fucking chance.”
Mae leaned to the side and looked around a set of bulging arm muscles. “Are you the Reverend?”
The male in the mink’s expression didn’t change. Yet she sensed a shift in him, though she’d have been hard-pressed to pinpoint why she recognized it.
“What do you want the Reverend for, female?” came the slow drawl. “You’re not his type.”
“She’s not yours, either, asshole,” Shawn snapped. “So how ’bout you fuck off—”
“She’s not talking to you, my guy—”
Okaaaaay, she was so sick and tired of big, swinging dicks.
Mae stepped out from under cover and stared at the newcomer. “Tallah sent me. To find the Reverend. And something tells me I’m looking at him.”
Both males shut up, like they were surprised she wasn’t willing to play wallflower to their thumping-chest routines.
“Just be real with me,” she said with exhaustion. “I was so over tonight even before you waltzed in looking like Liberace and Hannibal Lecter had a love child.”
As the male in the mink narrowed his eyes, Shawn barked out a laugh.
“Oh, come on, Reverend,” he said, “you gotta admit that was a good one.”
Mae was too busy measuring the stare of the other male to pay attention to Shawn’s compliments. She had a feeling his irises were dark purple—which was something she had never seen before. And God, that weird sensation was going through her again. It wasn’t attraction—no, no, she seemed to be reserving that for killers who had more ink than a Bic factory and tasted like heaven. No, what she was feeling was something else—and whatever it was, she just wanted to run from the coiling uneasiness.
“I’ll ask you again, female.” The male’s drawl didn’t change. “What do you want with the Reverend—”
“Oh, cut the shit,” she interjected. “And I don’t want you. I want the Book. Tallah said you’d know how to find it.”