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I broke away from Dorian and ignored his annoyed scoff at leaving in the middle of our confrontation. “Something’s over here.” I bent and retrieved a thick gold coin lodged between a root and a pile of twigs. My pulse elevated as I flipped it over, examining each side.
Dorian came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. “What is that?”
“Money.”
Dominic, who moved closer to see, scoffed. “That’s not money.”
“Notyourmoney.” I flipped it around again as ice oozed through my veins. “Money from the Underworld.”
Dorian shook his head. “A sub-demon wouldn’t have any use for money.”
“Exactly,” I said, shoving it in my pocket. “This means an upper-level demon could have been in Mohan Wilds.”
* * *
“It’s a charus.”Fane ran his finger over the carvings on the gold circle no bigger than a quarter and passed it to Camus.
The alpha dropped the coin in his palm. “And this is currently used in the Underworld?”
Fane nodded. “Dux, highs, and royals use these, but other nightworlders could get a hold of them if they wanted to.”
“Technically, anyone could have had this.” Camus gave it back to Fane and then dragged his hands through his dark hair, mixing the fine silver threads within. “But most likely a higher demon.”
Fane had met us as we walked toward the alpha’s house, skewering all three male shifters with a look that would have most begging for mercy. Jake and Dominic peeled away and headed down another street while Dorian put more space between us.
And how did Fane know he needed to find me?
Because the prick was constantly tuned into my emotions.
The five of us—including Marissa—stood in Camus’s living room, speculating about this new development. I knew a demon had dropped this. Call it a gut instinct or whatever.
“Here, Daddy.” Marissa handed the alpha a glass of whiskey and then one to Dorian as she flashed Fane a saccharine smile.
My fingers curled into fists as I imagined knocking some of those perfect, white teeth out of her mouth.
Fane rested his hand over mine as he ignored Marissa.“Don’t do what I know you’re thinking about doing.”
“I won’t—unless she keeps pissing me off.”
“You didn’t think to fix our guests a drink?” Camus scowled at his daughter as she snuggled up to Dorian.
She shrugged and pulled her mate onto the couch Fane and I had sat on the first day we visited Camus. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
While the alpha’s green eyes were cool and crisp like an autumn morning, hers were ice-cold and sharp as knives.
“That’s okay,” Fane said, pocketing the charus. “We’re fine.”
Camus shook his head at his daughter and folded onto the comfy leather chair opposite them. “How did demons or any other nightworlder get so far in our territory without alerting us. That zubrek you killed smelled like death. A wolf should have picked up on that stench.”
“Maybe someone is letting demons in and keeping their scents covered.” Dorian sipped his whiskey and glared at the demon shifter. “Maybeyoulet them in, Fane.”
I stepped toward the couch, but Fane drew me behind him.
“If you have something to say, Dorian, by all means, say it.” His voice had deepened several octaves and vibrated my bones like a rhythmic drumbeat.
The beta’s nostrils flared, but fear lanced through his baby blues. “I’m just putting out a theory.”
“Well, put it back in.” Fane’s huge shoulders rolled, his chest expanding. “I’ve been pretty fucking calm and controlled with you, Dorian, and that’s only because Camus has been gracious enough to let me bring Tate here, but I’m losing my patience. Keep this bullshit up, and I’ll remind you of how easily I can break you.”
