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  He must have showered while she slept, because his hair was damp, dark with water. A few beads of moisture lingered on his shoulders and his upper back. He leaned his head back at one point, shaking it, sending droplets flying. Jaycee laughed.

  Dimitri spun around. He saw Jaycee, but instead of being abashed, he held out his hands and danced his way toward her, singing the whole way. He didn’t stutter when he sang—he never had.

  His voice wasn’t true but Jaycee didn’t care. He was singing for joy and being alive, for the sunshine and warmth. For Jaycee.

  Dimitri caught her hands and spun her into the dance. Unlike when he’d danced with her at the roadhouse, he didn’t pull her close or use it as an excuse to kiss her. He moved swiftly in a swinglike dance, shoving Jaycee away and pulling her back toward him, never letting her be off-balance.

  He danced with the grace of his wolf, not missing a step. He guided the two of them around the room, pulling Jaycee out of the way of the massive furniture. The chandelier above them swayed in time with the music, as though the house danced with them.

  As the song wound to its climax, Dimitri gathered Jaycee and spun with her in the middle of the room, pelvis to pelvis. His strong arms wound around her back, and at the song’s last chord, he lowered her into a dramatic dip.

  The DJ yelled, “Good morning, New Orleans!” and went on blathering about something or other.

  Dimitri held Jaycee in his arms, still in the dip, his gray eyes on her. His face softened as he looked down at her, the corners of his mouth flattening. Jaycee hung there, knowing he’d never drop her, wanting the moment to hover forever.

  Dimitri breathed hard with his dancing, his bare chest expanding. He had such strength, but it didn’t make him arrogant. He barely acknowledged how strong he was, as though he didn’t notice.

  Jaycee needed his strength. She always had. And it had been there for her to reach out and touch.

  She touched him now. Jaycee traced the curve of his pectorals, fingertips catching in the curls of damp red hair.

  Dimitri abruptly raised her and set her on her feet, and Jaycee’s hand fell away. Dimitri stood looking down at her for a long moment, and then he put his hand behind her neck and drew her up for a kiss.

  A deep, breath-stealing kiss. Jaycee tasted the mouthwash he’d used and the spice of himself. Then Dimitri was gone, moving away in time to the next song, snatching up a shirt as he went.

  “There’s plenty of f-food in the kitchen,” he said. “W-want breakfast?”

  Jaycee could only stand in place, her lips tingling, her heart banging in her throat. “You cooking?”

  “S-sure. Have a sh-shower and c-come on in.”

  Dimitri swayed past her, still dancing. He caught her again, pressed another heart-pounding kiss to her mouth, and danced out. She heard his laughter as he ran the hall, which sounded very close to a wolf howl.

  * * *

  “Why are you so happy this morning?” Jaycee asked half an hour later. She entered the kitchen after showering and dressing to find Dimitri juggling eggs, the ovals going up and up and up.

  He faked almost dropping one, then laughed at Jaycee when she cried out, and broke the eggs into a bowl. He swished the yolks and whites together and poured them into a pan.

  “Am I happy?” Dimitri asked as he rotated the pan, spreading eggs to all sides. Good, he was making omelets. “I’m b-being me.”

  Jaycee sat down at the table to watch him cook. The kitchen, on the second floor, was large, with stainless steel appliances and light wood, very modern. Obviously the kitchen was for the inhabitants of the house, not the tourists. Except for the ceiling beams and the wide window looking out to the sweeping front drive, there was nothing in here original to the house.

  Downstairs, the house was exactly as it had been in seventeen hundred something-or-other. Humans loved to preserve the past, Jaycee noticed, and romanticize what had gone. Chances were the past had been no better or worse than the present—the human brain glossed over horror and hardship and revived what it wanted to glorify. Shifters who remembered the times humans glamorized thought they were nuts. A hundred years ago technology might have been simpler, but wars were brutal, a flu virus could wipe out a good percentage of the population, and only a privileged few lived in any comfort.

  Shifter past had been even worse—they’d had to hide in remote parts of the world and keep humans from killing them. Many Shifters had begun to starve and fewer cubs had been born. Shiftertowns had saved Shifters from being killed outright and had also helped Shifters live in peace, have cubs, and get on with life. Kendrick had created his own “Shiftertown” for the same reasons, only without the Collars and human oversight.

  “So, what do we do now?” she asked. “Go back to Brice? Report in to Kendrick?”

  “I already reported,” Dimitri said. “While you were in the shower. K-Kendrick says to look around a little longer, return to the club where we met Casey, check out Brice. We didn’t find any s-sign of Shifters ready to do violence against other Shifters at Brice’s h-house, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

  “Or maybe Kendrick sent us out here for a different reason.” As Jaycee showered, she’d thought over the events from her disruption at the fight club to meeting Brice at his odd party. “To get us out of the way while he and Dylan go after another target?”

  Dimitri turned around, spatula in hand. “Why the hell would they? We’re Kendrick’s top t-trackers, except for Seamus. If there was something d-dangerous going on around Austin, Kendrick would n-need us.”

  “But we’re troublemakers, remember?” Jaycee idly picked up a knife and used its handle to trace a pattern on the placemat in front of her. “At least I am.”

  Dimitri swung back to the stove, lifted the omelet pan, and flipped the eggs with a flick of his wrist. The omelet folded in on itself perfectly, and Dimitri slid it to a plate. Jaycee rose and went to the stove for it.

  “You’re dreaming,” Dimitri said, holding the plate out to Jaycee. He didn’t release it when she tried to take it. “Kendrick has known you a l-long time. You break rules you don’t l-like but they’re usually ones Kendrick thinks are s-stupid anyway. Plus, he’s not going to throw away his best trackers on a wild-g-goose chase.”

  Jaycee tugged at the plate, but for some reason Dimitri wouldn’t let go. “Or maybe he’s keeping Dylan off his back.”

  “C-could be.” Dimitri finally released the plate, and Jaycee had to take a step back to catch her balance. “S-send us out to make it look like he’s t-taking the threat seriously.” He frowned. “Nah, Kendrick would t-tell Dylan to stick it if he didn’t agree with him.”

  Dimitri was most likely right, but the Shifters at Brice’s had been happy, not worried or constrained. They hadn’t been plotting, only hanging out, going through a Goddess ritual, or pairing up. Nothing that didn’t happen at any Shifter party. And yet . . .

  “Something weird is going on with Brice, I will agree,” Jaycee said. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but remember the guy, Ben, who helped us take down Kendrick’s old partner? I swear I saw him at Brice’s last night.”

  “You did see me,” came a deep voice from the kitchen door.

  Jaycee shrieked and leapt into the air. The plate with her omelet spun like a Frisbee, and the perfectly made eggs swirled off and splattered all over the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dimitri held the omelet pan like a weapon, a drop of hot oil falling to singe his foot, but he barely noticed. He was already halfway across the room to the man who lounged in the doorway, but Jaycee beat him to Ben, the leopard in her making her fast.

  “How the hell did you get in here?” she demanded.

  Ben stood about five foot seven, had a body full of muscles, black hair, and black eyes like windows to nothing. He had tatts up and down his arms and across his fingers, one fl
owing up his neck and onto his cheek. He regarded Jaycee without worry.

  “The back door was unlocked. I heard you talking up here, so I came to say hi.”

  “What I mean is,” Jaycee said tensely, “how did we not hear you or smell you? You have a distinctive odor.” She sniffed at him.

  True, Ben did carry the faint brimstone scent associated with the Fae. Not the guy’s fault. He was from Faerie, but as he’d told them repeatedly, with heat, he was not Fae. In any case, Ben was old, powerful, and had a vast storehouse of knowledge behind those dark eyes.

  “Hey, I took a shower,” Ben returned, unoffended. “And I’ve learned to elude people, including Shifters who try to kill me for smelling like a Fae. Also didn’t want to alert anyone who might be watching you that I came to see you. Cool house, by the way.”

  “Belongs to a friend,” Jaycee said.

  “Yeah, Jasmine. We’ve met. She and Mason are steaming up the sheets, from what I hear—she’ll bring another cub soon, I’d guess.”

  Jaycee relaxed. “You might have called first,” she growled at Ben. “You ruined my breakfast.”

  “There’s p-plenty more,” Dimitri said. “Someone s-stocked the fridge. Sit down, B-ben. I’ll m-m . . .” He turned back to the stove, his powers of speech failing him. He could talk to Jaycee for a long time without worry—Kendrick and Seamus almost as much—but speaking to people he didn’t know well could exhaust him.

  “I’m not cleaning that up,” Jaycee said, waving her hand at the eggs all over the carpet and sending Ben a glare.

  “It’s all right; I’ll do it.” Ben grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and started scooping the ruined omelet from the floor. “Even though you dropped it.”

  “Because you scared me.” Jaycee watched him, hands on her hips, then sighed, grabbed more paper towels, and helped.

  Dimitri kept cooking, determined not to laugh. “S-so,” he said as Jaycee and Ben cleaned, “wh-what did you think of B-Brice?” If he kept his sentences short he’d be all right.

  Ben continued to wipe up the floor, tearing off dry towels to finish the job. “I’m not sure what to make of him. His little band of followers likes him. Respects him—they don’t fear him. I mean, they bend to his dominance, but they’re not terrified. They joke with him, disagree with him, banter with him. The vibe I get isn’t bad, but I’m not sure exactly what it is.”

  Jaycee nodded in agreement. “We need more dirt on him. Why did he let you join?”

  Ben shrugged. “I explained who I am. What I am. You know, ancient being, screwed over by the Fae. I’m always looking for a place I can belong.”

  The last sentence had a ring of truth. Dimitri had felt the same way for a long time.

  Jaycee laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You’re always welcome at Kendrick’s.”

  Ben’s dark eyes softened. “Aw, you’re so sweet. I’d hug you but I’m hungry, and Dimitri might throw that pan at me.”

  Dimitri, watching them, absently overstirred the eggs, which started to scramble instead of cook evenly. Screw it. He threw in some salt, pepper, and cheese and crumbled everything together.

  Jaycee unfolded herself to her feet, keeping her hand on Ben’s shoulder. He made a show of helping her up, then threw the paper towels away in the garbage can in the corner.

  “You didn’t explain how you got in here,” Jaycee said. “We didn’t see you coming, or hear you, or scent you.” Her eyes narrowed. “Can you teleport?”

  Ben barked a laugh. “I wish. Shit, what I wouldn’t be able to do if I could pop from place to place? No, I used stealth. When you hide out from the Fae for a thousand years, you get good at it.”

  “If they exiled you to this world, they should leave you alone,” Jaycee said indignantly. She approached the stove and looked at the mess in the frying pan. “Are you making that for yourself?”

  Dimitri gave her an irritated look, dumped the scrambled eggs onto a plate, where they steamed, and wiped out the pan.

  “I’ll take those.” Ben’s broad hand snaked in and snatched the plate. He grabbed a fork from the counter and dug in. “Like I said, I’m hungry. Mmm. Not bad.”

  Dimitri set the pan down, cracked more eggs into a bowl, and quickly stirred them into a froth. He was mean with a whisk. Maybe he could introduce it as a weapon at the fight club. He spread out the eggs, which lapped to the edges of the pan. Perfect.

  “The Fae exiled me,” Ben said as he ate. “But that’s never good enough for them. The vendetta against me and my people was passed down from generation to generation. I’m the last of my kind now, but they won’t be happy until we’re all gone. Bastards.”

  Dimitri’s sympathy for Ben went up a notch. They’d all had to put up with shit from the Fae, but Ben had a long history of struggling to survive.

  He flipped the omelet once it was set, slid it to a plate, and presented it to Jaycee with a flourish. Jaycee smiled up at him, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered.

  He thought of sleeping against her last night, her lush body cradled into his, and dancing with her this morning. She’d laughed at him singing and dancing like a fool, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself pulling her close and kissing her.

  Dimitri almost did it now. Jaycee’s smile was genuine and full of impish good humor. Her eyes sparkled, her red lips curving.

  Ben looked over at the omelet. “What, no parsley?”

  Dimitri handed Jaycee the plate. “B-bite me.”

  Ben grinned at him, and Dimitri returned to the stove.

  By the time Dimitri had made himself an omelet, filling it with cheese and ham, both Jaycee and Ben had seated themselves at the table and were finishing the last of their eggs. As Dimitri ate, the other two talked about what they’d observed at Brice’s party—Ben hadn’t found out much more than they had, and he hadn’t been taken down to the private bar in the basement.

  Ben looked around the kitchen once they’d exhausted the conversation. “This house is interesting. Mind if I look around?”

  “I’ll come with you,” Jaycee said, rising. “I haven’t explored it much myself.”

  Dimitri bolted the rest of his omelet, wiped his mouth on a paper towel, and joined them.

  Jaycee and Ben were already down the main staircase by the time Dimitri caught up to them. The chandelier that hung far overhead tinkled.

  “Nice.” Ben looked admiringly along the hall at the polished paneled wood and the doors that led to the large, lavishly furnished rooms. “I ran an old hotel back in North Carolina for a while. Left to me by the family who lived there. It’s still nice. Haunted, of course.”

  “So is this house,” Jaycee said. “I haven’t seen any ghosts though, only doors opening and closing.”

  Dimitri clamped his mouth shut. He hadn’t told Jaycee about the flying furniture in his room, because she apparently had heard and seen nothing. He put his hand on the staircase railing and felt a faint shudder move through it. No, not a shudder. More like laughter.

  That feeling was confirmed as he stepped off the last stair. Jaycee and Ben were already out of sight. A whisper of laughter drifted past him, and far above him, the chandelier swayed.

  Smart-ass, Dimitri growled silently and then hurried to catch up to Ben and Jaycee.

  He reached them when Jaycee was unlocking the door that led to a small stair leading downward. Why Ben wanted to explore the dark recesses of the house, Dimitri didn’t know, but the man seemed intrigued.

  Dimitri peered into the square of blackness that the door revealed. He didn’t scent anything dangerous, smelling only dust and mildew, which would be expected in an old root cellar.

  Ben led the way down. Dimitri insisted on going ahead of Jaycee, and she let him after giving him an exasperated look.

  The cellar was not so much a basement as a space under the house that had been enclos
ed. They were too near the river to dig down, too close to the water table.

  The ceiling was about six feet high, forcing Dimitri to stoop. A breeze wafted through the space, keeping the air from being too dank.

  “What d-do you think you’ll f-find down here?” Dimitri asked Ben. “Dead b-bodies?”

  “You never know,” Ben said philosophically.

  The cellar spread out in all directions, no walls dividing it off. Dimitri sniffed the air. “N-no death here.”

  “No,” Jaycee agreed. “Only vegetables. And rodents. Snakes.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Ben said absently.

  Jaycee and Dimitri exchanged a look.

  It was weird that, while Brice acted like a fairly normal Shifter—all bears were full of themselves—Dimitri was highly suspicious of him. Ben, on the other hand, was as far from normal as a being could be, and yet Dimitri knew he could trust Ben with his life. Had trusted him. Something to think about.

  Ben turned abruptly back to them. “I was wondering if the house was on a ley line,” he said. “That might account for the weirdness.”

  Dimitri shook his head. “No one p-popping in and out of F-Faerie here that I can tell.”

  Jaycee had moved close to Dimitri, her body warmth touching him. “I don’t think this house would let Fae in.”

  “It let B-Ben in,” Dimitri pointed out.

  “Who isn’t Fae,” Jaycee said.

  “But most supernatural beings get a whiff of me and think I am,” Ben said, sounding unworried. “However, my friends, a ley line isn’t simply an entrance to Faerie. It’s a way to get to Faerie if you have the right means, like a Fae artifact. But ley lines are more than gateways. They contain magic, a flow of power connecting to other power around the world. They’re concentrations of raw energy that both carry magic and enhance magic used around it.”

  Dimitri hadn’t known that. But then, he didn’t have much chance to be around magic, other than the Sword of the Guardian Kendrick carried. Dimitri made sure he rarely had anything to do with magic at all.