Page 3 of Hunted By Darkness

“Here we fucking go,”I heard Salvator growl.

Leaning across the bar with a predatory grin sure to get him a knee, the shameless asshole winked at me. “What’s a darling thing like you doing in a dank and dangerous pub like this? Waiting to be rescued?”

The entire pub quieted, perceptive patrons homed in on the giant flirt and me.

“Just trying to enjoy my drink,” I said, sipping my whiskey.

There was that devilish twinkle I knew so well. My mercenary was about to say something stupid, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Oh, love, it’d be mypleasureto give a pretty thing like you something else to enjoy with that lush mouth of yours.”

“Didn’t see that one coming,”Salvator huffed sarcastically.

“And the innuendos, they just keep coming,”Ryker cackled in that wolfish way of his.

Tometi didn’t speak, but I sensed his growing confusion. Poor bear didn’t get any of it.

I cocked my head to the side, removed my dagger, and stabbed it right next to his arm. “Fuck off, asshole.”

His shit-eating grin broadened as I yanked the blade free and left him at the bar. Without waiting, I made my way over to Black. His unsettling gaze was already on me when I stood in front of his table.

“Black, was it?”

His eyebrow lifted in question. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“A paying customer,” I retorted.

Silence stretched between us before he motioned for me to sit. “You’re in luck, doll. I just finished my last job. Buy me a drink and we’ll talk.”

2

Nika

Black ditched his glass for the entire bottle of scotch I ordered. He took heaping swigs before wiping his mouth and leaning back. His eyes skated over me in quiet assessment. “What sort of trouble are you looking for, doll? And how much will it pay?”

At least I could count on someone like him being straight to business. Despite the scoff from Salvator in my head, his relief matched mine. The paid killer’s stare might be hungry, but it was for money and the prospect of a paid-for bottle of booze more so than what my body could offer.

Small miracles.

Matching his energy, I leaned back and nursed my shot. My gaze roved over his physique, checking for weapons in case our communication broke down and I was forced to disarm the asshole then disappear into the night.

A gun and dagger were all I could immediately find, but he was bound to have a few things stowed away if he was as clever as they said. Maybe a few enchanted items to help in a pinch.

Lucky for us, strict rules upheld the lawless types roaming these streets. Fighting would get him banned, and Black couldn’t afford to lose his membership here. The biggest and best paid contracts were offered in this city. Not exactly neutral territory, but as close as the underbelly of magic society got to it.

Gregory Black looked exactly how I expected someone who killed for a living to look. The mercenary couldn’t afford to let himself go even when it came to his love for alcohol. He cut a powerful shape in the disheveled shirt and pair of jeans he wore. Scars riddled his flesh, covered by black tattoos, and everything about him screamed just-try-me.

Nothing about his appearance was inviting. Like most Fae types, his face hid his true age, just shy of three hundred. His ability to control water made him dangerous around any source of it. I would’ve steered clear of someone like him if I weren’t his soul-sucking nightmare come to life.

Listening carefully to the world around me, I quieted the voices of the dead begging for my attention and searched for the one I’d come for. I sensed him the minute Black walked in, so I knew Tobas was here. So far, he’d been quiet, but then his disembodied voice floated through my head. An uncomfortable caress, but one I recognized.

“I thought you might come looking,”his garbled baritone murmured inside my head as Tobas appeared, hovering above Black’s head much like my father had in my dream.

This little evolution of my power took me a bit to get used to—their physical capture before death. Most were normal, if a little haunted. But the angry ones carried their death into their afterlife form.

So, Tobas had blood pouring from an open gash in his neck and tears of dark blood streaming down his face, never going farther than his chin and never waning. His distinct features matched the ones drawn by Lev, but they were translucent and faded in and out of view.

I held the floating man’s angry glare and smirked to myself. Knocking the table twice, I swallowed the rest of my shot. Lev had already moved into action. He grabbed a quick drink from the bar and headed our way. I sensed his careful, measured steps while I kept my eyes on the trained killer and his tagalong spirit.

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