Page 46 of Forbid Me

Once again, we held hands as we walked out of the room and down the hall. The hotel owner was conspicuously absent from the front desk as we made our way out. I'd heard the shuffling of feet and the quiet snick of a door as we made our way down the hall. He knew what kind of establishment he was running. All I wanted was to get my princess out of it.

Stepping out into the cool night air, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The city's night sounds surrounded us. I heard what sounded like tribal drumming. Chatter spilled out from seedy night clubs. The scents of street food that could have only come from the swampy river water mingled with the urban smells of crowded, unwashed bodies.

As we quickly moved away from the hotel, my mind raced with thoughts of where to go next, of how to keep Stella safe. I had no idea how we were going to get out of here and to Chicago for the train.

I felt the weight of stares on us, the predatory glances of those who saw us as easy prey. Criminals had a keen sense for those who lacked direction. They saw Stella and me as lost wanderers ripe for exploitation, or worse.

Another confrontation was the last thing I needed right now. I made a decision to go left. Stella had stopped walking in the middle of the street. Her gaze was fixed on something above us, her expression filled with wonder and awe.

"It's a Pegasus."

"Pegasus?" I followed her gaze to a sign—a man riding a winged horse.

"It's the way we're going to get out of here."

There were horse shifters. There were even dragons. But there were no such things as unicorns. At least, I didn't thinkso.

"I saw a vision. I think that's how we get out of here."

I looked again at the sign. Beneath it was a run-down building. It looked like it was open for business. Whatever it was, it was a direction. I steered us toward it, leaving the gang of thugs behind.

Five minutes later, we stepped into the shop, a place that seemed more like a junkyard than a store. Piles of mechanical parts and odd contraptions were scattered haphazardly around the room, creating a maze of technological debris.

Stella's hand was clasped tightly in mine as we navigated through the clutter. There were fire hazards at each turn. A deep, bellowing growl shattered the calm. I pushed Stella behind me and faced the door, certain the vagrants from outside had followed us in.

It wasn't vampires looking for a quick bite. It wasn't witches itching to cast a spell. Or fairies hoping for some carnal fun. There, prowling toward us, was a beast with a golden coat of fur, dark eyes that gleamed with malice.

My king had come to kill his best friend and claim his mate.

CHAPTER 31

Stella

The air crackled with energy. The texture of it wasn't magical. It sizzled like electricity. The scent of metal and oil filled my nostrils, intermingling with the faint aroma of herbs and incense that lingered in the air. My skin prickled with anticipation.

I knew we were being watched. I couldn't tell from which direction. The watching didn't feel unsafe. It didn't feel dangerous.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement from the shadows—a flicker of golden fur catching the faint glow. Oz shoved me behind him. But there was no hiding what was advancing on us.

A jaguar, golden and majestic, emerged from the darkness. Its sleek form moved with a silent grace that sent a shiver down my spine.

Peering over Oz's shoulder, I was captivated by the beast'sbeauty, by the way its muscles rippled beneath its golden coat, by the fierce intelligence gleaming in its eyes. It felt familiar to me, like an old friend returning after a long absence.

But then, in an instant, its friendly façade melted away. It bared its canines in a menacing snarl. Its gaze fixed on Oz with an intensity that sent fear coursing through me.

Oz's muscles tensed beneath my hands. A wave of apprehension washed over me. He was poised to confront the panther, his instincts urging him into action. As his grip tightened once, a vision seized hold of my mind.

The shop faded away, replaced by the imposing walls of a castle. Oz stood before me, transformed into his sleek panther form, his fur glistening ebony in the dim light. Across from him, a golden jaguar loomed, its eyes gleaming with a feral hunger.

"I believe my best friend has come to challenge me for your hand," said the jaguar in a deep baritone.

In a blur of motion, violence erupted, blood staining the pristine floors of the castle. I couldn't see the carnage, but I knew in my heart that the victor was not Oz.

I snapped back to reality just as Oz moved to strike. Bile was in my throat, the acid robbing me of words. This wasn't a castle, but I knew the outcome would be the same. I reached out with my magic, reasoning that fur was like thread. Maybe I could tighten the beast's hair until it felt like a snatched weave?

I raised my hands. Magic flowed to my fingertips. And stopped there.

To my surprise, the jaguar was not flesh and fur. It was cold metal; a construction of gears and wires fashioned into the shape of a fearsome predator.

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