Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) (3 page)

A lizard. So I 
had
 seen a lizard the previous day.

But I didn’t think much more about it, because I was distracted by the fact that Lucian had surprised me twice. Every living creature gave off a signature scent, its mana. And as a rule, I smelled every creature’s mana long before I saw what it was attached to.

Except Lucian.

Oh, I’d smelled him that first time. My mouth watered just recalling the deliciously intoxicating scent.

But I could smell him no longer.

And come to think of it, I couldn’t smell the surfer dude and his little green lizard, either.

Humans couldn’t hide their scent. I’d never come across one that could, anyway.

I decided to gamble. What could it hurt?

Diverting my eyes back to Lucian’s cool, assessing blue ones, I said, “You’re a bit unusual. What are you?”

His lip twitched an extra millimeter upwards as he bowed a little in my direction. “Oh, so direct and to the point,” he praised in a voice that just oozed charisma. “What am I? Well, my dear, I would ask of you the same thing. I would have thought you to be a Night Terror, only you’re not.”

A Night Terror? Determined not to betray the fact I had no clue what he was talking about, I calmly meandered to the couch and sat down, crossing my legs and lacing my fingers over my knees. I took up a lot of space, my eyes not leaving his the entire time. It was a power move, and one that kept my fingers conveniently close to the knives tucked in my boots.

I could tell that he wasn’t going to answer, so I switched subjects. “
You
 invited 
me
, Lord Rowle,” I challenged, lifting my chin a little. “A matter of a job?”

“Lucian,” he said. “Call me Lucian.”

He stayed where he was for a moment. I discovered then that I couldn’t read him anymore than I could smell him—another unusual thing. I was remarkably adept in reading human emotions, even the hidden ones. But the man before me could have been a robot for the lack of signals I was receiving.

It made him even more captivating.

“Lucian,” I agreed with a cordial nod.

Turning slightly to the side, he waved a hand of introduction in the direction of the surfer dude still slouched behind him. “This is Heath,” he said.

And that was it. No last name. No brief explanation as to why Heath was standing there with his eyes locked onto a lizard’s beady little ones.

“Nice to meet you, Heath,” I said when he made no attempt to acknowledge my existence. “I’m Cassidy Edwards.”

Heath tilted his head to one side, but that was it.

“Now then, Cass,” Lucian inserted in a silky smooth voice. He stalked over to the conference table and leaned against it with his hands in his pockets. “Let’s continue to be direct, shall we?”

“I’m a direct kind of gal,” I said by way of agreement. “It’s Cassidy, by the way.”

He smiled, obviously bemused, but then his tone shifted. “It’s too late now to accomplish your original mission,” he announced as he peered at me from under his lashes. “And as we both know, 
Cass
, the Terzi are less than forgiving.”

I’d never heard of the Terzi, much less had accepted any kind of a mission from them. No, the only mission I’d ever accepted was the one originated by 
me
—that of revenge. Vengeance against Emilio for converting my mother, robbing me of a normal existence, and condemning me to a life of hunger and isolation.

I was going to spend my every waking breath ensuring the very same thing happened to him. Karma, it was called.

Lucian was watching me. Waiting. He clearly expected some kind of response.

I wasn’t one to play guessing games. I didn’t have the patience for it.

“You might want to check your sources, 
Lord Rowle
,” I said, stressing his title with a deliberate note of skepticism. “I’ve never heard of the Terzi, and the only mission I’m on is my own. So, these Terzi can be as unforgiving as they please. The only thing you’ve gotten right so far is my name, and hardly that. It’s Cassidy, not Cass.”

No one called me Cass. Ever.

I was distracted from Lucian’s reaction by Heath.

“Profound, man,” the surfer dude exclaimed, and then tossed the lizard up into the air.

To my utter astonishment, the reptile swirled into a human-sized tornado of green smoke, and out from it stepped a petite woman of apparent Asian descent, wearing a green sheath dress with black platform sandals. Her skin was porcelain white. Flawless. She’d combed her black hair dramatically to one side, obscuring one eye.

The surfer dude had disappeared.

“She’s not what you think, Lucian,” she said, her voice quite melodic but obviously upset. “It’s merely a coincidence. This is not a case of keeping your enemy close to your heart.”

I just stared at her, astonished that the people in the room really weren’t humans. But they clearly weren’t vampires, either.

What 
were
 they?

Excitement rippled through me—excitement that perhaps I wasn’t as alone in the world as I’d thought. But consternation quickly dampened the thrill of finding possible kindred souls. I didn’t know who they were or what their motives were.

“Please, take a seat, Cass,” Lucian’s cool voice intruded upon my thoughts.

I glanced down to realize that I was standing, knife in each hand. As excited as I’d been, my body was trained to defend itself of its own accord.

“Amazing reflexes,” the lizard woman observed, coming up to Lucian to slide her palm up his chest and rest her head against his arm. 
She was tiny. The top of her head didn’t even make it to his shoulder. “
A Chosen One, perhaps?”

“No, she’s not one of them,” a voice growled in my ear. “She’s something else. Something … I’ve never encountered. She’s alive.”

I whirled to see a massive, musclebound brute of a gray wolf crouched behind me. His eyes were glowing. Yellow.

“Cripes!” I swore, gripping the handle of my knives harder.

I’d never seen such a beast.

“Cripes?” the wolf repeated, tilting his head a little just like a dog does when it appears it’s trying to lip-read. “Are you British?”

It was a little unnerving. “No,” I replied shortly. I’d heard the word 
cripes
 in a few movies and had just liked the way it sounded.

“Ah, so you just prefer to use pseudo British curses?” the wolf asked in open curiosity.

My “cussing” repertoire consisted of three expressions: “Cripes!”, “Hex it!” and “Crud!” I was picky. But it was hardly the first topic I’d have thought to discuss with a werewolf. “I like to swear but with class," I said, not entirely certain I was really having this conversation.

“I get that. Maybe it’s an old soul thing,” the wolf said, hunkering down on the couch and crossing his paws as if preparing for a long philosophical conversation. “Do you meditate, too? I’ve discovered—”

I figured then that the wolf had to be the surfer dude.

“Enough, Heath,” Lucian smoothly interrupted, confirming my guess.

Heath obligingly wagged the tip of his tail and as I watched, his fur melted into skin and the body lengthened to stand upright, morphing back into the blond-haired surfer dude. Strangely, the first thought occupying my mind was the question of where he’d kept the Hawaiian shirt while in wolf form.

But then a second thought came to me. If werewolves existed … then what else?

I raised a curious brow at the ex-lizard woman still standing there rubbing her hands up and down Lucian’s chest. I don’t think he even noticed, but he did pick up on my unspoken question.

Nodding, he supplied the introduction. “This is Tabitha. Tabitha is a firedrake.”

I’d never heard of firedrakes. I’d have to google them later.

Cocking a brow, I turned my attention to Lucian himself and repeated my query from before, “And you? What are you?”

He gave a half laugh and with a low, sweeping bow, replied in a deep baritone, “Allow me to properly introduce myself, my dear. Lord Lucian Rowle, Warlock and Cursemaster of the Highest Order.”

A warlock.

Evidently, the world was a bit more complex than I’d given it credit for.

They were watching me expectantly. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know a name for what I was, so instead, I shoved my knives back into my boots and announced brazenly, “Cassidy. Cassidy Edwards. I’m one of the Damned … a monster.”

A Contract with a Handsome Devil

Lucian’s devilishly handsome brow arced up a fraction of an inch. “A monster?” he probed. “You look quite human; it must be a masterful spell, then.”

Walking up to me, he brushed a finger across my forehead, but my attention was riveted on just how close he was standing—so very close. And no matter how deeply I breathed in, I couldn’t catch even the slightest whiff of his delicious scent.

And then it happened.

For the first time in my life, I lost interest in a potentially tasty morsel to become more interested in the man.

He towered over me and out of pure habit, I cataloged his attributes. Muscles. He had a great set. He was incredibly fit. Apparently, weaving spells was an athletic business. His skin was tan. His Adam’s apple was even more distracting closer up. His jawline fell into the same category. And his lips. I was tempted to kiss him, just to see what it would be like to lock lips with a sexy man without thinking of him as a Thanksgiving Turkey.

“Distracted, are we?” he breathed in my ear.

I squarely met his shrewd gaze. I could see mirth in his pale blue eyes. And for a moment, something else. Something sizzling. Something hot.

But then his expression shuttered, and he moved back, folded his arms, and said, “You’re not spelled. Explain.”

Spelled? Not a term I’d heard before. Enchanted? As in magic?

His lashes narrowed as if reading my confusion. He was a wily one. I’d have to be careful if I didn’t want to end up getting short-changed in this negotiation. I adopted a hard, knowing expression, and just shrugged like his question was beneath me.

I’d learned long ago that bluffing was more than half the battle.

Lucian stalked over to the conference table and sat on the edge to casually swing a foot. “Leave us,” he ordered Heath and Tabitha with an imperial wave of his hand.

Heath didn’t seem to mind, but Tabitha certainly did. She flashed her eyes at me with obvious suspicion, and if looks could roast, I’d have been turned into a charred pile of ashes right there. It took her several long moments, but finally, she disappeared through the door.

“Don’t mind her,” Lucian’s deep voice advised from directly behind me.

Only the years of practice living with my mother kept me from jerking in surprise at his sudden breath upon the back of my neck. Apparently, warlocks moved as quickly as vampires. I wondered what else they could do.

Pretending I wasn’t surprised, I coolly spun on my heel.

He didn’t move back. He stayed in my space. And though half of me found him fascinatingly attractive, the other half became annoyed.

The annoyed-half won out.

I glared at him in a way that never failed to send a man scattering out of my way.

But he didn’t move. Instead, the corner of his lip curved into a smile, and folding his arms as if digging in for the long haul, he continued to speak of Tabitha. “Drakes are possessive of those they accept. They aren’t like humans. I’d avoid being alone with her, at least for a while, or maybe even forever if she decides she doesn’t like you.”

I’d never heard of a drake. Part of me wanted to know more, but as a matter of habit, I avoided asking questions if I could help it—it tended to embolden others to ask questions of their own. And anyway, only part of me was curious. The rest of me was irritated with the handsome warlock hovering over me.

I arched my brow higher, adding more frost to my gaze. I wasn’t going to be the first one to step back. Nope. I was going to win even if I had to stand there all night with him just centimeters away. My annoyed-half deliberately ignored the part of me dancing with glee at the thought.

Lucian met my gaze steadily, and from this close, I could get a really good look at his unusual eyes. Light blue irises threaded with glistening silver streaks that radiated outwards from the pupil. I’d never seen glimmering silver in an eye before. Perhaps it was a warlock thing.

After a moment, I began to notice the scorching tension rising between us. And even though I couldn’t smell it, I could sense a charge swirling around me, something that wasn’t me. It was some kind of invisible, crackling energy. It heightened my senses. I wondered if it would zap him if I reached out and ran my finger along his jawline.

At that point, I became aware that he was still talking.

“A Firedrake,” his deep voice droned in the background. “Descendants of the dragons, and more dragon than human. Treat her like a temperamental cobra having a bad day and you’ll do fine.”

His incredibly long lashes swept down over his eyes for a fraction of a second and I realized I hadn’t been breathing. I sucked in a huge breath. Cold air filled my lungs, blowing the fog out of my brain.

It was enough to allow instinct to inform me just what he’d been doing.

In an instant, a knife was in my hand, but he caught my wrist in a vise-like grip before I could press the blade into the flesh of his neck.

“Impressive,” he stated, looking as cool as a cucumber.

“I can’t say the same,” I said with flashing eyes.

I held still, not wanting to test his strength. If he was stronger than me—and I had the sneaking suspicion that he just might be—I certainly didn’t want him to know it.

After a moment, he let my hand go and moved to his desk.

I nodded in satisfaction that he’d been the first one to move away, but the victory was a hollow one. He didn’t seem to care. And anyway, now I was more concerned with the fact that he’d deliberately used his sex appeal as a diversion tactic while trying to cast some kind of spell over me.

He tapped a finger on the top of his desk. “One of the quickest detections I’ve ever seen in a candidate. Your affinity for mana is finely tuned,” he stated with a clinical detachment. “Incredibly so. Are the Damned adept in sensing traps as well? I could use a good Spell-finder. As it happens, I’ve an immediate need for one.”