“Human, but with the bloodline of the gods. In essence, she was more than human, more than a mage, like you. On either side, you are extraordinary. There is not one piece of you that is mundane. You should celebrate that.”

“I like mundane. Mundane keeps me safe.”

“You would not have been able to hide from what you are for much longer. You should be thankful you found me.”

“I didn’t find you, you arrogant ass. You stalked me. And why should I be thankful? Because the shifters will think I’m the enemy, or because I’ll get to be a feeding trough soon?”

“Because I can protect you in a way few others can.”

“Let me guess, this is going to lead into a conversation on bonding.”

“Well, since you brought it up…” Humor danced in his eyes.

I held up my hand, unable to stop myself from smiling. “No.”

“You say no now, but just wait. Your mind will change.”

“Nope.”

“I will rock your world. You will never be satisfied with that human cop.”

Those damn tingles washed over me again. “You’ll get blood, and that’s it. I’ll stand very still and rigid while I fulfill my promise. Then I’ll make your life hell. Somehow.”

He pulled the door open, his honeyed eyes delving into mine. “You already make my life hell,” he whispered. “In the best of ways.”

The man had a way with words—I’d give him that. “You probably banged your way through the nobles of France when you were a human,” I muttered, entering the dimly lit interior of the half-filled bar. “Even though women weren’t supposed to sleep around back then.”

“Women have always had the same desires when it comes to pleasure and passion. It is society that changes,” Darius said, stopping beside me. “Simply because it was declared wrong in the time, does not mean it didn’t happen. I deflowered a great many behind the veil of secrecy, and they loved me for it.”

“Oh, ew. Tone it down, Casanova. And I doubt they loved you for tarnishing their reputations.”

“Behind the veil of secrecy, I said. I have always been discreet, and I have never lacked for partners, single or otherwise, experienced or not—”

“Please stop.”

“I celebrate a woman who knows her desires, and who demands to have them fulfilled.”

“Seriously, stop.”

“Do you demand to have your desires fulfilled, Reagan?”

Not the tingles! “I demand that you shut it down, and to achieve that end, I’ll shoot you in the leg again like I did in the paddock. Is that what you’re after?”

“So violent.” He gave a dark chuckle. “You have passion in spades, ma puce. I can’t wait to experience it.”

“I don’t know what puce means, but it sounds dirty,” I muttered. I pulled up my leg, snatched a knife from the holster around my ankle, and stabbed him in the side. Just as quickly, I pulled it out of his body, wiped the blade on his expensive shirt, and shoved it back where it belonged. His side would heal, but his shirt was ruined. I knew he’d care more about the latter.

He barely flinched. His reaction was another dark chuckle.

That hadn’t worked out how I’d hoped.

“Ready?” I asked, stalking forward.

“Always,” he replied, the velvet of his voice only easing marginally. He definitely did need blood, and if I wanted him to knock off all this ma puce stuff, I couldn’t even flinch when giving it to him. Nor could I display all this passion he thought I had rolling around in my body. It would be like a handshake, as far as I was concerned. A tight-lipped, stony-cold handshake between acquaintances. That was all.

Nodding to myself, because I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I needed the inner pep talk, I scanned the occupants of the bar for Callie and Dizzy.

“Dude, did you just stab that guy?” asked a young man with wide, disbelieving eyes. He wobbled against the wall he was leaning against, obviously drunk. That brown bottle in his hand wasn’t his first, or even third.

Drunk men had a habit of flapping their gums. Especially younger drunk men when confronted with a woman wearing skintight leather. My choice of clothing wasn’t only good for battle.

First things first.

I pointed at him, my hand too close to his face. “Are you human?”

“What?” He tried to move his head before bringing his hand up to bat away my finger.

“He is, yes,” Darius said, his gaze moving slowly around the room. “One that badly needs a shower.”

“What’s your problem?” the drunk guy asked, pushing upright. His eyes found the bloodied spot on Darius’s shirt. “Oh shit. Dude, you’re bleeding!”

I walked away from the man because he’d only get more disruptive, and checked out the lay of the land. Tables hugged the wall on my right, and there was a small throughway between those and the barstools pressed close to one side of the square bar. To my left, more stools lined the bar, leading to a larger open area on the other side. I knew I’d find more tables back there, maybe a booth or two, and wondered if there was a pool table in the back. Judging by the crowd, the other side of the bar was more popular. It probably had more shadows and less humans. Less humans because the magical folk would scare them away from hanging around.

That was where I needed to be. With the scary folk. They didn’t tattle when you hung them upside down and demanded information. And I needed to demand information at this point. Because what was up with a mage holding me off the ground with air? That type of thing didn’t go unnoticed, not even in New Orleans.

When I turned the corner, I did indeed see a pool table with one guy bent over the green. Another guy gripping a cue stick stood off to the side, watching the shot. A few others hovered around the table with them, and several more people were spread out across the back area. Among them, sitting by themselves at a table, were Callie and Dizzy.

“They certainly did not make friends,” I muttered, stopping at the top of the bar.

The bartender, a brick of a man in his early thirties, slowed when he came our way. His eyes took me in for a second before pausing on Darius. His expression hardened.

“I’d like a whiskey, please,” I said. “Jameson.”

The bartender leaned against the bar. The muscles on his arms bulged and his hard gaze never left Darius’s face. “You shouldn’t be here, pal.”

“I’m going to take a wild stab here, but…shifter?” I lifted my eyebrows at the bartender. Like vampires, shifters didn’t smell like their other forms.

His gaze flicked to me. “I don’t work for Roger, but I don’t mind chipping in when these bloodsuckers come around.”

“I have as much right to be in the Brink as you do,” Darius said eloquently. “In addition, I am working in connection with the human police department. We are trying to rid your town of mages who are killing people in order to call demons. Or would you rather the death toll rise?”

The bartender scoffed. “Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black? You kill humans all the time. Why should you care about a few more of them dying?”

“I do not kill them. I share a mutually beneficial relationship with them, which they are free to end at will.”

I grimaced, because the ending it at will part wasn’t always true. Take my situation, for example—I couldn’t get rid of the bugger, and I hadn’t even engaged in a mutually beneficial relationship. I’d tried not to engage in any kind of relationship at all.

The bartender scowled. “Is changing them into swamp monsters what you call a mutually beneficial relationship?”

“You’ve got a valid point, there, Sir Bartender.” I knocked on the bar. “Be that as it may, he’s not changing anyone now, and he’s not feeding on humans. I spoke to Roger about this a couple months ago. Darius is helping me solve a case. Despite my hopes to the contrary, he’s helpful.”

“These things only look out for themselves,” the bartender said.

“Usually, yes. However, earlier today he broke me out of a mage’s demon-powered magical hold. How the holy hell that mage was able to suspend me in the air without his hands, I do not know, but that is not a power you want running amok in your city, trust me. There is some serious shit going down, and you can take the uncharacteristically high pitch of my voice as proof. I don’t normally get rattled, but any demon that can impart that much power is…really not good. Not good at all.”