Soul Fire(7)

By: Juliette Cross



“No, Jess. I mean Mr. Nightwing.”

“Who?” My heart stuttered.

“He’s the head of security, Corbin told me. I watched him singlehandedly toss your brother and his minions out on their asses. I think he broke Aron’s arm.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with a broken spaghetti-strap, tucking it into her strapless bra. “This actually looks kind of cool, doesn’t it?”

How Sorcha could think about fashion at a time like this, I had no idea. I knew my brother. If he was manhandled and thrown out by a Morgon, a Nightwing at that, he’d be in a rage right about now. He would surely set the blame on me for daring to defy our father’s orders by associating with Morgons. I stood up and peered over the edge of the balcony. “Where’s Ella?”

“Conn took her backstage with Jed and the band.”

A hard beat of wings and Corbin flew through the railing gap, landing right beside me. I jumped. Slade followed, shirtless, revealing a broad, toned chest. A streak of blood crossed his neck. Possibly not his. Corbin’s cheek puffed with swelling, but otherwise he looked unharmed. “You girls okay?”

Sorcha sashayed over to him. “Yes. Thanks to you.”

Corbin returned her smile.

Sorcha, this is no time to flirt.

Slade strolled over; something darker replaced the former charm in his eyes as he moved toward me. Violence or testosterone or sheer male ego pumped him to new heights. He hooked a thumb in his front jeans pocket and gestured toward the parking lot.

“I hate to say it, Jessen, but I think your brother is waiting outside for you.” He didn’t appear displeased by this at all, edging farther into my space.

“Damn it.” I rubbed my temples. A serious headache throbbed below the surface. “He’s obviously been drinking or he wouldn’t have lost control. I can’t reason with him when he’s like this.”

Sorcha stood next to me. “I’ll pull my car up to the entrance and we’ll make a quick get-away.”

“He’ll only follow us. And he’ll be so pissed by the time he catches us, he’ll—” I broke off, realizing Corbin and Slade listened to every word I said. I wouldn’t incriminate my brother further. I knew he could be violent, but he was still my brother. I blew out a frustrated breath. “That would be worse.”

“I’ll take you home.” Slade’s mouth lifted into a crooked smile.

“How?” I asked. He pointed up to the skylight. Chills ran up my spine. “It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

He grinned, flexing his abdomen and chest. “It would be no trouble at all.” A familiar hungry look sparkled in his gaze. “Your brother couldn’t follow us. Wouldn’t even know you were gone from here.”

He was right. Still, there was no way in hell I would let Slade get his hands on me and be at his mercy. I knew that look. I’d seen it in Aron’s eyes often enough. “Um, well, I appreciate it, but—”

“I’ll take her home.” The deep, bass voice behind Slade made my heart slam against my ribcage.

We all swiveled. My dark rescuer stood three feet away, a sculpture of fuming stone. Suddenly, the thought of leaving with Slade wasn’t so bad. I gulped, remembering the press of all that hard muscle.

He moved forward, folding outspread wings against his back with a soft whoosh. How could a man that large move with such grace? Corbin and Slade took a step back as if the man demanded more space. Hell. He did. He turned his angry gaze on the two Morgons. “It’s time for you to go.”

Not a suggestion. A command. He glanced at Slade’s bare chest, pinning him with a murderous glare.

Without a word, Slade flew over the edge and out of sight.

Corbin turned to Sorcha. “Let me escort you to your car.” I’d never seen Sorcha speechless. She jumped to Corbin’s side, took his hand, and followed him down the stairs. Then I was alone with Mr. Dark-and-deadly.

Oh, shit.

I clasped my hands in front of me, unsure what to say. I was alone with a Morgon man—a stunning, jaw-dropping, scary-as-death Morgon man. Somehow, I kept my chin upright, pasting an air of nonchalance into my features. He moved toward me, lithe and lovely. An aura of power pulsed against my body like a living heartbeat.

“My name is Lucius Nightwing.”

His deep voice brushed against me like rough leather. Be calm, Jessen. Be calm. I couldn’t even open my damn mouth, much less form words.

He arched a black eyebrow. “You’re Jessen, correct?”

I nodded dumbly, clearing my throat. “Yeah, um, how’d you know?”

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