Page 5 of The Lawgiver's Firebrand
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Daireresisted a second taste of her lifeforce. Her flavor was unexpected, satisfying a craving he didn’t know he had. Spicy. Sweet. Exotic. A field of purple violets the color of her eyes.
“What can I do for you? I pay my debts.” Her gaze dropped to his groin, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth and sweeping across her lips.
His penis reacted, punching into his zipper. “Nothing while you’re drunk.” Daire had rules. Either that, or he resented acting like a prepubescent, un-Awakened incubus, feeding from and getting excited by this crass Firebrand witch, who, though equipped with an impressive body along with an angelic face, had the sophistication of a lug wrench.
Her eyes sparkled when she smiled. “Tipsy. Not drunk. I didn’t know incubi were so particular.” She stroked him through his Zegna trousers.
He gripped her fingers, forcing her to stop. “I am, but obviously, my standards are slipping.”
She rubbed her palm as if he’d broken bones. “Fuck you, buddy. And not in a good way. Females must find you as charming as a dry well in the desert.”
He shot the cuffs of his turtleneck sweater. “The females I … charm … are quite satisfied.”
“Ha. That’s what every male thinks. Just because you get a girl off doesn’t mean she’s satisfied.”
“Are you suggesting I take seduction advice from a Firebrand in khaki and combat boots?”
“If you did, maybe you wouldn’t come off like an asshole.” When he frowned, she arched her brows. “Nope. You’d still be an asshole.”
Interrupting his conversation with the ungrateful female he’d just given an orgasm, a group stormed inside the Blood Shed, shouting a chant. “Pure breed. Pure breed. Pure breed.” As they moved through the bar, a warlock who was dancing with a succubus took offense to their purity rallying call and slugged a protester.
When chaos erupted, Daire twisted toward it, restraining Ari behind his back. She shoved around him. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m a Firebrand, not a fluffhead to be protected by the big, bad incubus. Besides, you’re a lawgiver. I live to serve and protect.” She drew two blades, tapping them together as she glared at the protesters before moving in front of Daire protectively.
Strange. Her bravery was a turn-on.
Soon, the Shed was a disaster, with patrons and protesters in full-on fight mode. Berserkers and demons in the crowd overpowered the intruders, who had more lip than brawn. Mages hit them with spells while a few vamps dined on them.
Daire, keeping his back to the wall but slipping away from Ari’s protection, slugged an annoying ylve. The guy demonstrated the good grace to fall on his ass and scuttle away.
Ari was in a standoff with a satyr. While circling him, she warned the male to “boogie outta here.” Her words. When the protester didn’t take the advice, Ari plunged a knife into his side. Slapping a hand to his ribs, he widened his eyes in disbelief.
Daire’s combat-booted Firebrand smirked. Opting to re-sheathe her blades, she employed her witch gifts. When her spell locked around a berserker’s neck, his feet drifted six inches off the floor where they scissored. Must be embarrassing for such a large brute.
Distracted by Ari’s skills, Daire nearly missed a punch coming his way. He ducked in time, returning violence with violence. A right jab. A left hook. Put the male away. Realizing he was having fun, he dusted his hands while he glanced around for another victim.
But the protesters, seeing they were outnumbered and unwelcome, exited. No longer chanting, they raced or stumbled for the doors in worse shape than they had arrived. Bruised and bloody, arms or legs broken, limping or scurrying, some carried by like-minded cohorts, they made an ignominious retreat.
Ari glanced his way. “You did okay, lawgiver.”
Daire grinned, admitting only to himself that the fight was invigorating, something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Just okay?”
“Are you begging for a compliment?”
He straightened his Tom Ford turtleneck and brushed a hand along the side of his Zegna trousers. “Never.”
Ari tapped her wrist, where he knew all Firebrands had an embedded D-chip. It was a communication device and more. With it, the warriors spoke to each other mind-to-mind.
When she finished, he arched a questioning brow.
“I reported in about this mess and requested clean-up help from myfreronson site.” Her attention wandered to the injured in the Shed. “You can leave.”
Ignoring her dismissive tone, he asked, “Will you be okay? Or do you need an escort home?”
Her lips turned down. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugged. “Apparently. I have an understated but remarkably well-honed sense of humor.” Daire strolled out the door, leaving the coarse, poorly dressed Firebrand to her task. He hoped thoughts of her did not follow him to his condo.
