Once the other Fae had concealed their own ears, we moved.
The city was quiet this late. When I ran patrols, peaceful nights were an escape from the busy that crowded the day. Alec and Mordecai slept usually, leaving me to run the city and do as I pleased. And it was one of the only times I could escape the horrors the dragons inflicted on everyone around them.
Night was a warm solace, a blanket from the chaos that filled my life.
But as we crept between the buildings—the loud music and yelling voices from The Pit growing closer with each step—I didn’t feel so safe curtained in the darkness. I couldn’t see how a group of Fae and two shifters, all carrying packs, were going to make it through The Pit, into the back storeroom, and out an entrance hidden beneath the floor.
A hundred feet away from the neon-lit building, Nevaeh and I unshouldered our packs. Akeno took hers, Tarik mine. I freed myself from the leather jacket I had worn for warmth, and shoved it inside the bag. Tarik’s eyes followed me, the lines of his face etched with concern, his jaw clenched tight. I sighed as I brushed my fingers over his knuckles.
“I’ll be fine. This is a good plan.”
His hand formed a fist beneath my touch. “I still don’t agree with it. They’d better not so much as look at you the wrong way.”
I winced. “Isn’t that kind of the point?”
He swore under his breath, prepared to spew words, but clamped his mouth shut and looked away.
With a long exhale, I turned to Nevaeh, straightening the tight mini skirt hugging my fishnet-clad hips. “Well?”
She reached for my bra strap, tightening it slightly, then switched to the other side, pausing to study me before she ripped the neckline of my cropped tank top into a vee.
“Better. With the makeup and white hair no one should recognize you. As long as they don’t look too closely at your tattoos, I suppose. But what shifter pays attention to another’s tattoos?”
That much was true. We all had them, so they didn’t draw special interest. And I was all too conscious of the heavy weight of the makeup Nevaeh had caked on my face. But it was part of the disguise, so I didn’t complain.
Besides, who better to distract the shifters in The Pit than two pretty girls?
I didn’t love the idea. The risk was high and knowing what I had to do made me squirm. Plus, I hated the look on Tarik’s face.
But that didn’t stop me from adjusting my bra, smoothing out the leather of my skirt one more time, and letting Nevaeh tousle more volume into my hair.
“Is this . . . appealing?” I asked the Fae behind us, gesturing to the outfit. Even asking the question felt wrong, but I had to be sure. If the disguises didn’t do their job, we would fail before we even got started.
“Kitty cat, you’re gonna be turning heads,” Caspar said, snickering at the flush that rose up Tarik’s neck.
“Keep staring and your head’s going in a direction it’s never been before,” Tarik muttered, which only made Caspar chuckle harder.
“I did ask him, you know,” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “Technically I asked all of you, but the others look too nervous to answer now.”
And they did. Sebastian wouldn’t look up from where he was vehemently staring at his feet, and Akeno seemed to be struggling with the urge to look away from The Pit ahead. Only the twins seemed to have any courage left.
“Well, Tarik has made it clear how he feels about your role in this mission—a few times—so what about how I look?”
I shot a glance at Nevaeh as she waved at her attire expectantly. Hers was about the same as mine, except her tank top was almost fully split down the center and she had insisted on a pair of heels. She swore she would slip them off underground.
She also insisted they landed her more attention than any outfit ever could.
“You’re beautiful,” I said when she huffed impatiently. “Absolutely stunning. The makeup and clothing only accentuate what you already had.”
“You know how to make a girl feel pretty. Thanks, bestie.” She smirked, then slid a glance toward Akeno. Looking away quickly, she cleared her throat. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”
I braced myself. Took a deep breath. And hesitated long enough to reach behind me and grab Tarik’s hand, squeezing it softly.
Then Nevaeh and I were moving, striding toward the glowing sign that denoted The Pit. Behind us, the Fae kept to the shadows. Not that it much mattered out here. With me gone, there was no protection on The Pit at night. Mordecai was kind enough to let his son sleep a few hours—if you could call it kindness—and we were going to take advantage of that fact.
A moment later, we were down the stairs and through the door. We definitely drew eyes, but not enough. I swallowed hard.
“Hey, boys.” The words rolled off Nevaeh’s tongue like a caress. Shifters turned, waiting as she added, “Anyone want to help me and my girl celebrate our birthdays?”
She bumped my hip with hers and looped her elbow through mine. I noted how the shifter’s eyes followed the motions. Followed her. And me, as I batted my eyelashes at one of the cage bouncers and plastered on the fakest grin I had worn in my life. He lifted an eyebrow in interest, even as Nevaeh pulled me toward the bar, carefully guiding me through the sea of bodies that followed her declaration of “a free round of drinks.”
Shifters might not be immediately attracted to bare skin and bodies as the Fae and humans were, nor as wary of protecting them from prying eyes, but we definitely spoke another language. And Nevaeh’s smooth swagger was a siren call they couldn’t resist. Her fingers grazed chests and arms as she meandered by. I awkwardly tried to imitate her. Deep in the pit of my stomach I knew Tarik would hate this, would feel like I was somehow betraying him. But our escape depended on how well Nevaeh and I could perform this dance. So, I swung my hips and beckoned the shifters onward.
Nevaeh hopped straight up onto the bar, shooting the bartender a sly grin and passing him a wad of cash—I didn’t want to know where that had been hidden. His answering smile was predatory, growing all the wider when she yanked me up onto the bar beside her. The bartender had shots in our hands in a second, a dark liquid that almost made me cough when I followed Nevaeh’s lead and tossed it back. I couldn’t speak over the burn and, instead, focused on lulling the shifter’s attention back to our advances.
I felt the Fae before I saw them. Years of Night Enforcer duties had taught me the difference, the calm they brought next to the animal rage that simmered beneath the skin of most shifters. The majority of our kind wouldn’t spend enough time near the Fae to learn the difference.
Tarik’s eyes burned holes in me as I leaned forward, my nose inches from an ebony-haired shifter who wore too much cologne. I could feel Tarik watching, even as I gently taunted the man in front of me, even as my fingers traced patterns over his thickly-muscled arms.
The thought made me sick. Loyalty was my calling card and I wasn’t at all interested in the way this man leered at me. As though I were a snack. Like he would devour me, if I let him.
The distraction was working though. Shifters were competitive, and few wanted to lose a chance with the girls on the bar who were demanding attention and offering things neither of them actually intended to follow through on. Even the shifters who weren’t interested in us were appreciative of the free drinks—Nevaeh had truly thought of everything. And when she bought two more rounds, I realized exactly how intoxicated she was hoping to get everyone in this bar.