Page 7 of Fallen
I shoot them each a glare but keep reading anyway, skimming entries about Silas—his charm, his scent, the way he made me feel like I was everything. But there’s nothing about unicorns, just vague mentions of his “mysterious past.” One entry catches my eye, though:“‘Silas got weird tonight, talking about power and destiny. Said some shifters are meant to rule. Creeped me out.’”
I pause, my gut twisting. “That’s… odd,” I say, closing the journal. “He never mentioned unicorns, but this power talk? That doesn’t sound like a panther thing.” I remember religiously researching panthers at one point, wanting to impress Silas and make sure he was comfortable. Panthers are prideful and like to hang with other feline shifters but they don’t crave power, not like wolf shifters—especially the Alphas.
Rowan’s eyes narrow. “You sure he was a panther?”
“He shifted once in front of me. He was very proud of his form. I just—fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. Silas kind of fucked me up, okay?” I still haven’t even told the others at Essence PI. Gerald probably already knows but I hate that all of this unicorn bullshit is tied to me.
“No more secrets, Lev. We can’t do anything if we don’t know the full picture,” Amand starts. “I’m not asking you to tell everyone. I just don’t want to be blindsided.”
That, I can do.
I think.
The soft moment is interrupted when my stomach growls. Rowan cackles as he pushes to his feet. “Okay, no more burnt toast. Let’s order pizza.”
“Thank fuck,” I grumble. “Can we also ban Rowan from the kitchen? I thought I was going to die from crusty carbs.”
Chapter 5
ROWAN
I’m already regretting agreeing to this. Lev’s idea to scope out this supernatural hangout for unicorn leads is solid, but The Horned Haven is a cesspool. Shifters, witches, and a few vampires slink through the dimly lit bar, chatter full of secrets and betrayal from what I can gather. My instincts are on edge, my beast itching to shift and clear the room. But I keep it locked down, my focus on Lev, who’s weaving through the crowd like he was born for this.
The way he has somehow mastered part of his magic, fading into the shadows so smoothly is almost eerie. One second, he’s there, his unruly curls catching the glow from the lights; the next, he’s gone, blending into the graffiti-covered walls.
It’s sexy as hell, but it’s also driving me nuts. I can’t protect him if I can’t see him. Amand’s beside me, scanning the room, his hand twitching like he’s ready to grab Lev the moment he reappears.
“Relax, Rowan,” Amand murmurs. “He’s got this.”
“Relax?” I growl, keeping my voice down. “He’s playing ghost in a bar full of predators. You know how much I hate this. Besides, you’re just as much on edge as I am.”
Amand’s lips twitch as he claps a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, but we can't smother him, unfortunately.”
I grunt, folding my arms across my chest. He’s not wrong. But every time he fades, my beast roars to drag him back, to pin him down and keep him safe. It’s not just protectiveness; it’s the venom in my veins, the mate bond that makes me want to claim him in every way possible. I shake my head, trying to focus. We’re here for answers, not to lose myself in Lev’s orbit.
The bar’s a riot of color and noise, with glittery cocktails named after unicorns—Moonlit Horn, Stardust Stab, you name it. I don’t even know how the fuck Lev found this place or how we’ve never come through here just for shits and giggles.
Lev’s voice pops into my head, his deadpan commentary from earlier:“Unicorn-themed cocktails? What’s next, glitter shots that make you prance?”I smirk at the memory, but it fades when I spot him reappearing near the bar, his expression tense. He’s talking to a wiry shifter with a mohawk, keeping his voice low. I strain to hear, but the music drowns them out.
Amand nudges me, nodding toward the back. “Over there.”
I follow his gaze to a corner booth where a burly shifter is holding court, his voice carrying over the noise. He’s got a wolfish grin, his eyes gleaming with booze and bravado. “Horn jobs, man,” he’s saying, slamming his drink down. “Clean, quick, and no one sees it coming. Best way to take out the trash.”
My blood runs cold.Horn jobs.A euphemism for unicorn killings, no doubt. Our first real lead, but I don’t trust this place. Too many eyes, too many scents. Lev’s still at the bar, his back to us, and I’m itching to drag him out of here before trouble finds us.
“Rowan,” Amand warns, sensing my tension. “Don’t start anything.”
“Too late,” I mutter, my gaze locking onto a vampire who’s sidling up to Lev. He leans in, his hand grazing Lev’s arm, and my beast roars. Lev’s trying to play it cool, his magic flickering as he half-fades, but the vampire does not back off. He says something, Lev obviously forcing a laugh when his eyes dart to us.
That’s it. I’m across the room before Amand can stop me, my fists curled at my side. “Back off,” I snarl, shoving between Lev and the vampire.
The vampire’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t move. “Relax, snake. Just making conversation.”
“Make it somewhere else,” I say, pulling Lev behind me. His scent floods my senses, calming my beast but not enough to back down.
Lev’s hand tugs at my jacket. “Rowan, chill. I’m fine.”
I don’t look at him, my focus on the vampire. The bar’s gone quiet as heads turn to face us. The vampire smirks and raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, tough guy. No need to get territorial.”
