Page 31 of Bitter Spirits

He dipped his head until mere inches separated them. “What are you up to?”

Her gaze drifted to his mouth then came back up. The gold glints in her eyes were brighter and hotter, and her tongue darted out to touch her top lip. “I want to check something out, and with Angel holed up in his office, now works.”

He took in the determined glint under her desire and recognized it for what it was—a need to best the monster. “You like to live dangerously.”

Those fascinating lips curved into wicked temptation. “So do you.”

Since actions spoke louder than words, he took her mouth in a kiss. Despite the need clawing through him, he kept it gentle, brushing his lips against hers once then twice before she let him in. The minute the sweet and spicy taste of her exploded against his tongue, his hunger went white-hot. It was the wrong damn time and definitely the wrong damn place, but he couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted to. He swallowed her soft moan, his hands tightening as she pressed closer, her grip on the nape of his neck pulling him down as she kissed him back.

Feeling the elevator slow, he somehow managed to catch hold of his badly frayed control and ease back. The prick of her nails against his neck made him smile as he slid his lips from hers to whisper next to her ear, “Later, wildcat.”

He wanted to laugh when she stiffened and unwound her arms from his neck so she could push against his chest. Heeding her silent request, he pulled back as the elevator stopped and the doors opened on a soft ding. “Lead on, my lady.”

She shot him a glare before smoothing it away and stepping beyond him. He caught her hand in his and let her lead. In the short time they’d been upstairs, the crowd had grown. Under the flashing lights, Isa wove her way through the bodies.

As they worked their way to the darker edges of the floor, Locke flexed his magic, slowly cloaking their presence from watching eyes. Magic settled over him like a second skin, and with a thought, he expanded it to encompass Isa. A form of magical camouflage integral to Hounds, bolstered by his natural air mage abilities, utilized the deep shadows and made it easy to blend in. So long as she continued to hold his hand and stay close, maintaining the masking would remain instinctual.

Clearly, Isa had a destination in mind, because she moved resolutely toward the staircase. For a moment, he wondered if she was going to head back up, but then she turned toward a door partially obscured by the stairs. When she came to a stop, she tugged her hand free and grasped the knob. A small red flare indicated a lock charm.

“Dammit,” she hissed.

Standing behind her, he put his hands on her hips and nudged her aside so he could examine the charm. His magic prowled forward and nosed the charm, drawing in the magical scents of its caster.

Flat. Tasteless. Generic. Cheap. So much for investing in security.

He gave a derisive snort and unraveled the charm quickly, using the stored magic in the silver signet ring on his right hand. When the red light flashed to a steady green, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open to expose more darkness.

Isa blinked at him. “How⁠—”

“Bastard never reprogramed the lock.” He stood sideways and motioned her forward. “Go.”

She shook her head and slipped inside.

Chapter 11

Isa

Death’s insistent call tugged at Isa with painful intensity, prickling her soul with impatience as she waited for Locke to join her in the darkness. As much as she wanted to dash through the thick shadows that greedily sucked the illumination from the flashing lights of the dance floor behind them, she wasn’t a complete moron. She dug out her phone to use the built-in flashlight. The door clicked shut, locking them inside, and low floor lights sprang up like fireflies, illuminating a claustrophobic narrow space.

“What is this?” Locke asked, his voice pitched low.

“A utility hall.” She shoved her phone back in her pocket and started down the hall. “It leads to the service areas.”

“Service areas?”

“There used to be an industrial kitchen on the third floor, but by the time Angel added this place to his rotating roster, it had been gutted.” She shifted her weight to her toes, trying to soften the sound of her heels against the concrete floor. “Back when I worked the bars here, they would dump their stuff in the old chill units upstairs.”

“So we’re going to go check out—what? Their alcohol inventory?”

“No, the kitchen wasn’t the only thing on that level. There were other spaces.” Memories clawed against the locked doors in her mind. The coppery scent of spilled blood and the sound of anguished cries wafted through the cracks, and she pulled the icy cloak of her magic close, freezing them out. “Spaces with limited accessibility.”

“Do I want to know what happened in those spaces?” An edge of heat ran through Locke’s voice.

I didn’t want to know. “No.”

He caught her wrist, bringing her to a stop. She stiffened but refused to look back. His thumb brushed against her inner wrist, the gentle touch at odds with the harsh note in his voice. “What are you chasing, Isa?”

That chill holding past horrors at bay deepened. “Death.” She twisted her wrist until he let her go, and she started walking again, a little faster than before. She didn’t get far before she felt him at her back, matching her step for step. “There may be cameras watching up there, so if you have some nifty way to deal with that…”