Page 68 of Magic of the Damned

Staying close to Dominic, I tried to present the same level of confidence he radiated. I thought I was pulling off the “don’t screw with me vibe” in its entirety. I will knock you out with my phone. Squash your man grapes and elbow you in the tatas.

I was grabbed by the waist and slammed back against a firm chest covered with a softer layer of fat. A rough beard rubbed against my cheek.

“You don’t seem like the type that goes for the pretty boys,” the alcohol-laced breath whispered in my ear. Before I could raise my foot to smash it into his and ball my fist to punch him, the hold he had on me relaxed.

Dominic was no longer in front of me. He was behind the man, hands clamped around his throat and knife held at his jugular. The stout man huffed out a breath through clenched teeth. His eyes were ablaze with anger, but as the knife bit into his skin, flight and fury shadowed his face.

“I’m the nice one. You touch her again, I’m going to let her at you.” Dominic continued to hold the man, looking far too confidently at people who were now armed with blades and guns. One was scarily close to Dominic’s temple. He eased his hostage around, using him as a shield. What lingered in his eyes was calculating, cold, and dangerously unsettling.

“Let him go and there won’t be any trouble,” said one woman with a gun trained on Dominic. The implication was there wouldn’t be any trouble for Dominic and me, but her voice didn’t hold the confidence that she believed it.

His lips kinked into a mirthless smile, his voice rough and hinting at unspeakable levels of violence. “We’re just here to visit Emmanuel. You don’t give me any trouble, I won’t give you any.”

“Release him,” the woman demanded.

The grin firmly in place, Dominic said, “Of course. Your wish is my command.” No semblance of humility was in his words.

You convinced me you’re a jackass. He was quickly next to me, urging me forward, not even giving the crowd of people the courtesy of looking back. Taking his lead was hard. Unable to hear footsteps over the music or see movement because of the low lights, I was alert. I’d had enough violence to last a lifetime.

“I’m the mean one,” I teased in a whisper once we were down a hall and the door closed us off from the bar.

“I have a feeling you can be quite brutal when necessary.”

I was so brutal that a punch from me only evoked laughter from him. “Don’t you forget it,” I told him.

“Don’t think I could.”

After three abrupt knocks on the first door in the hallway, a gravely baritone invited us in. The office was sparse. A half-filled bookshelf in the corner, and a rug presumably intended to add a decorative flourish but that seemed to deliberately collect dirt. At one time it was probably a nice rug, cream, rust, and hunter green complementing the pine-green walls. One wall was covered with pictures of restored motorcycles. With the man seated at the desk proudly posed in front of them. Or maybe he was just some weirdo taking pictures in front of other people’s bikes.

“Emmanuel.”

“Dominic,” the man responded just as brusquely. He was of an indeterminate age, shorn dull mousy-colored hair highlighted with gray or silver. His square jaw gave his face a blockish look.

The man kept his arms crossed over his chest, exposing large arms. Not defined but they could probably deliver a lot of power. Stern, watchful eyes paid close attention to me and Dominic.

“I see you made it without incident,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

Dominic shrugged. The tension in the room was pulled so taut, it was only a matter of time before it broke. Had I been in any room or met anyone who liked Dominic?

“So this is Luna,” Emmanuel mused, taking his legs off the desk and standing. Just a few inches shorter than Dominic and with a broader build, but Dominic’s presence still overpowered the room.

Emmanuel moved closer, regarding me carefully, his eyes traveling over every inch of me. My ring covered the markings, but his knowing look felt as though he could see beyond it.

He reached out to touch me. Dominic grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I never told you her name.”

“Ah.” A flush fell over his parchment skin. “She’s sort of a celebrity,” he admitted.

Dominic narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about her?”

Emmanuel returned to his chair, plopping down in it and returning his feet to the desk. He linked his fingers behind his head. “You seem so hostile these days. Perhaps you need a partner.” I wasn’t sure if he was offering his services or subtly telling him he wanted to deal with someone else.

“You know damn well that I have a partner.”

Emmanuel’s brow hitched. “Do you? You’re not referring to Helena, are you? She’s not a partner so much as a rabid creature that should be put down.”

Helena was no longer involved, but I guessed that wasn’t widely known. Probably the prospect of having to deal with her worked to Dominic’s advantage.

“That’s your one and only time. Helena has nothing to do with this. As I said on the phone, I need to call in my favor. I need to borrow magic.”

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