Jacqueline Carey - Autumn Bones

There was a collective indrawn breath as Lurine sashayed across the floor, followed by a murmur of speculation. As you might guess, Lurine Hollister was a huge icon in the gay community.

“Hey, cupcake,” she greeted me absently, adjusting her sunglasses to peer over them at the satyr. “Ooh, he’s quite the specimen, isn’t he?”

I gestured feebly around the nightclub, indicating the audience. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, here?”

Lurine gave me an affectionate look. “Oh, don’t worry, they’ll think half of what they saw and did tonight was a hallucination. Including me.” Her eyes widened slightly as she considered me. “You’re all riled up, aren’t you, baby girl?” She smiled. “Want to come home and watch?”

“No!”

She laughed.

Okay, see, here’s the thing. I would trust Lurine with my life, but she is a predator, and seduction is her method. Well, one of her methods. For her, flirting is just a way of keeping her hunting instincts honed. Which I wouldn’t mind, except I actually do find Lurine in her true form incredibly hot, which she knows. I like to think of my tastes as pretty conventional, but thanks to my infernal heritage, there’s a perverse streak in there that crops up in unexpected ways.

“My lady Hollister,” Stefan interjected, his voice tense, “it would be best for all involved if you do not dally here.”

They exchanged glances. Fraught, fraught glances. Stefan’s pupils zoomed and glittered. Lurine pursed her crimson lips. “Hmm, you’re close to losing control, aren’t you? That could be interesting.”

He looked involuntarily in my direction; and yep, definitely close. His irises were an icy rim around his pupils and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his ghoul-pale brow. When I’d let Stefan drain my anger in an emergency situation, he’d been in perfect control and I’d felt a deep well of stillness within him. This was the flip side of the coin, a profound, avid, and complex hunger.

And it was directed at me and my beribboned-and-bowed box of desire.

“Or maybe not.” All the teasing went out of Lurine’s voice, giving way to protective pragmatism. “Let’s get down to business. You’re coming home with me,” she said to the satyr. “Got it?”

A wide grin spread across the satyr’s face. Placing his hands on his hips, he nodded enthusiastically, giving his pelvis a little thrust for emphasis. Kind of like he was offering up the world’s most startling door prize. And now that I thought about it, he did look like some of the figures I’d seen cavorting on Greek pottery in my favorite teacher Mr. Leary’s Myth & Lit class back in high school.

Another, more alarming thought struck me. “Ah . . . Lurine?” My fingers tightened on dauda-dagr ’s hilt as I glanced around the club where the stunned orgiasts were just beginning to retrieve their scattered clothing. “What happens when the circle’s broken? Is it going to start all over again?”

“No, honey,” she said complacently. “Not as long as I keep a firm grip on him. Are you ready?”

The satyr nodded even more vigorously, his shaggy pointed beard bobbing.

With the expertise of an Indy 500 race-car driver maneuvering a gearshift, Lurine reached out to grasp his ginormous shaft with one hand, tugging him out of the salt circle. “All right, then. Let’s get you home, Mr. Happy.”

I held my breath, but Lurine was telling the truth. Nothing happened as she led the satyr out of the nightclub. He trotted happily behind her, his horse-tail switching with anticipation.

I followed them to the door. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Of course.” Lurine shot me an amused look before settling her sunglasses into place with her free hand. “I can absorb a lot of vitality, cupcake. Just get those goddamn ghouls out of here before they start ravening. And stay out of trouble for a few days, will you?” She glanced down at her throbbing door prize. “I’m going to be busy.”

“Deal,” I said gratefully. “Thanks, Lurine.”

She blew me a kiss. “Go home and take a cold shower.”

I watched Lurine lead the satyr into the parking lot, where her unflappable driver stood waiting to open the door to the Town Car. They disappeared into its depths. I couldn’t help but think about it, at least a little bit. Lurine would wait to get him home before she shifted, probably into the swimming pool, wrapping him in those shimmering, rainbow-hued serpent coils. . . .

“Daisy.” Stefan’s taut voice made me jump. “The situation appears to be under control. Your intervention was timely, and I do not sense that anyone here sustained great harm tonight. But I think it best we leave now.”

Oh, right. I took one look at him and made a shooing gesture. “Go, go! And, Stefan . . . um, thanks. I appreciate it.”

With an obvious effort, he gave me one of his courtly nods. “You did well, Hel’s liaison. I thank you for your trust.”

Stefan beckoned, and one by one, his ghouls trooped past me and out the door, clad in denim and leather. His two-hundred-year-old teenaged lieutenant, the one he’d called Cooper, was the last to pass. He gave me a broad wink with one glittering eye, tipping an imaginary hat in my direction with an engaging, crooked grin. He had a narrow face with a spray of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

Hell, I hadn’t even known there was an Irish Rebellion of 1798.

For the next forty-five minutes or so, Cody and I dealt with the aftermath, Cody having sent a shell-shocked Bart Mallick back out on patrol, which may or may not have been a good idea.

An EMS vehicle sat in the parking lot. A few of the participants got themselves checked out for minor cuts and bruises, but as Stefan had said, no one seemed to have been seriously injured. Most were content to gather their clothes and slink into the darkness. No one was especially eager to give a statement, which was fine, since we weren’t especially eager to take one. Under the circumstances, it wasn’t like we were going to be charging anyone with public indecency. Obviously, Rainbow’s End would be closing early this Friday.

Okay, so, crisis averted.

That left the unspoken.

After the last patron had departed, I glanced sidelong at Cody. “So . . . about what happened between us?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Nothing happened, Daisy.”

“About what almost happened?”

He lifted his head, phosphorescent green flashing behind his eyes. “What about it?”

I looked away. “Nothing. It’s just . . . you know genuine desire can’t be compelled, right?”

Cody was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Daisy, I never said I didn’t find you attractive. But attraction’s easy.” He gestured toward the nightclub. “You saw what happened in there. Most of those people were strangers. And I have an obligation to my own clan, to my own people. You . . . you’re not a potential mate. You know that. And I care about you too much to mislead you, okay?”

My eyes stung. Goddamn werewolves.

“Daise?”

My phone rang. I fished it out of the pocket of my skirt. It was Sinclair. I let the call go to voice mail and then listened to it. “Hey, girl!” He sounded affectionate, only a little worried. “Hope everything’s okay. Stop by, all right?”

Cody may have wanted me, but he didn’t want to want me. And that made all the difference in the world.

“The fake Jamaican?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice. Well, too bad.

“Ha ha.” I put my phone away. “Look, if we’re done here, I have a date to get back to.”

“After this?” Cody raised his brows. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”