The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2

Seressia Glass The Majestic

Rinna walked past the row of crimson stools at the Majestic’s well-used counter, heading for a table in the back corner. The Art Deco diner had been an indelible part of the Poncey-Highland neighbourhood just east of downtown Atlanta since 1929. Open twenty-four hours and every day except Christmas, the Majestic catered to an eclectic crowd of humans and hybrids alike.

At this time of day, the diner was mostly empty. That would change as night fell, then at midnight. That was when the Majestic became a prime people- and hybrid-watching venue.

She wasn’t there to watch, though. No, she’d arrived an hour early to gather her thoughts and prepare to make her case to a man she hadn’t been able to forget for two years.

She looked up as the waiter placed a menu, a glass of water and tableware in front of her. “Hey Sam. Getting in touch with your feminine side this cycle?”

Sam flashed a sharp-toothed grin, pushing her green-tipped black fringe off her forehead. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk on the wilder side,” the hybrid confided. “You wanna look at the menu, or do you already know what you want?”

“I’ll flip through it, and just start with a cup of black coffee, thick.”

Sam placed a laminated menu on the table. “Gotcha. Back in a bit.”

Rinna tapped her fingers as she looked through the menu, trying to quell her nerves. Two years. After two years, it would finally happen. She’d finally see him again.

Sam returned with coffee. “Today’s the day, eh, Rinna?”

“Yes.” She fidgeted. “At least, I hope so.”

“Of course it will be. How can Bale resist you?”

“Easily.” Rinna wrapped her hands around the coffee mug to prevent tapping a hole into the table. “Our people can really hold on to grudges, down to the smallest slight. Bale and I didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Best of terms. She’d run away from Bale like a weak banring afraid of being exposed to die by her crèche mother. All because she’d discovered Bale’s clan affiliation. A clan he no longer recognized, much as she’d left hers for a new life in Atlanta two years ago.

“He’ll come,” Sam assured her. “Didn’t the Chaser tell you so?”

“Yeah, she did.” Rinna had taken a huge risk approaching the Shadowchaser, especially given the circumstances in which they’d first met. Besides, Shadowchasers were a hybrid’s version of the boogeyman, a tale used to frightened the young. All she’d heard growing up was that Shadowchasers hunted hybrids and Shadowlings, trapping or killing them on sight. And that they loved to munch on young misbehaving banrings. It didn’t matter what you did or didn’t do, the fact that you existed made you the Shadowchaser’s enemy.

She’d learned that wasn’t the case, thanks to Bale. She’d learned a lot of things, thanks to the male banaranjan.

Two Years Earlier

A pulsing beat thundered through all three tiers of the DMZ’s main room, forcing Rinna’s heart to keep pace. It was a great night to party. It was an even better night to hunt.

Not that she needed to hunt. Many banaranjans made do with synthesized human adrenaline delivered via autoinjectors or served over dry ice in mixed-clientele clubs like the DMZ. It did what it needed to do, but nothing compared to sampling the epinephrine directly from the source. In a place like this, there were always plenty of volunteers around.

The Goth club looked like a cross between the Roman Coliseum and a factory from the start of the Industrial Revolution, perfect for its diverse clientele. Those who walked in Light gathered on Rinna’s left, though all three levels seemed sparsely lit with the blue-violet-white flickers that denoted Light beings. Maybe they’re all at a convention, she thought.

On the right, occasional flashes of yellow lit the deep dark of the Shadow side of the club. Plenty of beings on that side, Rinna noted. Most club-goers, human and otherwise, spilled over the middle ground between the two camps, the most neutral of the neutral territory inside the club.

Finding a nightspot that catered to hybrids and humans alike had been essential to her successful relocation to Atlanta — that and the Majestic, of course. The DMZ was a demilitarized zone masquerading as a bar that allowed anyone, of any walk of life, to enter as long as they didn’t draw weapons. Rinna couldn’t see the protective shielding that radiated from every bit of the club’s infrastructure, but she could feel it. She knew it was quick to take care of anyone careless enough to display aggression. Rumour had it that even the Shadowchaser had to remove her weapons before she entered.

Rinna wasn’t sure about that, but if it was true, it only confirmed her belief that she’d made the right choice relocating to Atlanta. A diverse club, the lack of a major banaranjan community and the presence of a Gilead Commission unit meant Rinna had a chance of a decent home and a reasonable life expectancy. Much better odds than where she’d been before.

Rinna took a final sip of her cocktail before discarding the plastic cup. She hoped she looked like most of the human females in there. Strappy stilettos, form-fitting jeans and a blouse with a plunging neckline seemed to be standard-issue attire for most of the women. It had taken months to perfect her human persona, practising in secret then making clandestine trips to test her abilities. Once she could pass for human and feed without detection, she’d made her escape.

Rinna leaned over the rail that ringed the first level. A live band played on a round stage in the centre of the club. The Pit circled the stage, a seething maelstrom of Shadow and darkness in which the DMZ’s non-aggression rules didn’t apply. Anywhere else in the club, if you drew weapons or called your power, wards would flash an orange warning, giving the perpetrator about two seconds to dial down or die. In the Pit, however, hybrids were given free rein, as long as no one got killed. Humans could go into the Pit too, but not without a little hassle. Since Rinna had been visiting the DMZ, she’d never seen a Light being enter the cauldron of violence. The humans who dared to had to sign a waiver before descending the stairs to the gated entrance.

She breathed deep, eyes sliding closed. Adrenaline wafted through the air, not enough to attempt to filter. For that, she needed more humans in the Pit or one male to show interest. She exhaled, releasing a simple banaranjan pheromone lure, and waited.

“Hey.”

She turned away from the railing. A human male with spiky blond hair, pale jeans and a dark navy shirt smiled at her, the prerequisite bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. Nice.

“Hi yourself.” She smiled, revving up her charm. Draw him in slowly, then get his heart racing.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Sure.”

“Sweet.”

The club was too crowded to move further along the dance floor, so they carved out a bit of room along the rail. Rinna lifted her arms and gave herself over to the frenetic music pouring from the stage. She kept the unnamed blond in her sights, smiling and flirting while dancing close, spiking his adrenaline.

He leaned forward, careful not to spill his beer. “My name’s Cade.”

“Nice to meet you, Cade,” she called out over the lead singer’s growling vocals. She leaned close, brushing her body against his. “My name’s Rinna.”

His heart pounded loud enough for her to hear it. “Rinna. A cool name for a hot chick.”

She laughed. “Does that line get you laid a lot?”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It may be a line, but it’s still true.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched from the contact, then sighed. Rinna knew humans felt something between fear and pleasure from a banaranjan’s touch, an involuntary reaction to the epinephrine flooding their system.

The hormone was ambrosia to a banaranjan, not necessary to live, but coveted all the same. While many of her kind had no problem scaring adrenaline out of humans, Rinna much preferred to seduce a rush from her “samplers”.

Cade trembled again. They had moved closer to the safety barrier that prevented dancers from accidentally falling into the Pit. Rinna pressed against him, running her hands over his back just above his kidneys. “So Cade. . have you ever been down in the Pit?”

His heart triple-beat in his chest, and another burst of adrenaline hit his blood. Delicious.

“Sure, babe. I go in all the time,” he said, false bravado clear in his voice. “What about you?”

She pinned him with a stare, hoping her eyes hadn’t flickered yellow with excitement. “I’ve gone in a couple of times. It’s a surreal experience.”

“Yeah.” Something flitted across his expression, something apprehensive, dark, and excited. “It’s definitely something else.”

Rinna nodded, but decided to trust his body instead of his words. People had called her type adrenaline junkies long before extreme sports became vogue. While banaranjans didn’t need adrenaline for daily sustenance, it was a necessary component of their survival. She didn’t think humans needed to jump out of airplanes or fight bulls or watch horror movies, but they did. When they did, banaranjans were there to collect the carelessly released adrenaline for themselves.

Cade was probably an adrenaline junkie. He certainly looked the part with his carelessly spiked hair and athletic build. Rinna had seen plenty of guys like him base jumping, free climbing, and free running. It was all about the rush, the brush with death. For these junkies, if there wasn’t a near fatality, they didn’t feel alive.

If Cade wanted a brush with death, Rinna would be happy to oblige him.

He jerked his head toward the Pit. “Wanna go in?”

Rinna sucked in a breath. Enough humans had finally entered the Pit to spike the thick club air with the musky sweetness of adrenaline and other hormones. She could filter more if she went in herself, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not that she couldn’t hold her own; she knew how to get in, get what she wanted, then get out. But there were plenty of hybrids and Shadowlings in the black maelstrom who would be thrilled to fight her for her human companion. Plenty of beings much bigger, much meaner, and much more disposed to push the club rules.

The music crescendoed, then stopped. Rinna turned toward the stage, cheering and applauding with the other club-goers. “Looks like it’s last call,” Rinna told Cade. “People are coming out of the Pit.”

They watched, silent, as several humans staggered up the stairs to the main floor. Ripped shirts were the least of the injuries. One man had to be helped up the stairs by two others, the left side of his head bloodied. Club employees immediately gathered to help the humans to small recovery rooms out of sight.

A quick movement caught Rinna’s attention. She looked over Cade’s shoulder, her gaze falling on a darkly handsome man in a rust-coloured shirt coming up from the Pit. Where most of the others staggered and clearly showed evidence of the brutal experience the Pit could be, this male looked as if he’d thoroughly enjoyed his time in the lawless underbelly of the club.

As if he felt her gaze, the man turned to look at her. Rinna didn’t need the yellow glint in his black eyes to tell her he was a hybrid. Tiny hairs stood up along her arms, and her own heart kicked into a faster rhythm.

He was a banaranjan, gorgeous and in his prime. She’d seen him around the club before, but she’d always kept her distance. She had no way of knowing his clan affiliation, which meant she had no way of knowing whether he was friend or enemy. Since she’d come to Atlanta specifically to escape confrontations like that, she’d decided avoiding the male banaranjan was prudent.

Apparently he had a different opinion. His gaze flicked to her left, to the human beside her. If the menacing frown was any indication, the male banaranjan didn’t like what he saw. He changed direction, making his way towards them.

By Hetache’s flame, no, Rinna thought. She did not want to be intercepted by this guy, or the DMZ’s security wards. It was time to go.

Cade’s heart rate increased, distracting Rinna from the other banaranjan approaching. The blond man’s expression balanced somewhere between fear and aggression. “Friend of yours?”

Rinna blinked, turned her attention back to the irritated human. “Not even.”

“Good to know.” He caught her hand, his smile returning. “This is supposed to be the part where I ask for your phone number so I can call you later. But that would mean saying goodbye, and I’m not ready for that yet.”

Rinna hid a smile. She hadn’t put out a strong lure, but she hadn’t needed to. If she were into humans, this man would be high on her list of suitors. She hadn’t taken in nearly enough adrenaline to satisfy her craving, but she wasn’t a fool. She had no intention of going any farther than the parking lot with the handsome blond, but getting away from the other banaranjan was definitely a good idea. “Neither am I.”

“Awesome. What do you say I buy you breakfast or a cup of coffee at the Majestic?”

Rinna considered it for a hot second. There was only one place to go after a night of feeding off human energy at the DMZ: the Majestic. At three a.m., a good mix of humans and hybrids crowded the landmark twenty-four-hour diner in Virginia-Highland, most drunk on one thing or another. It was unofficial neutral ground after midnight, simply because most patrons were too tired, too hungry, or too high to be confrontational.

“Sure. A little Majestic sounds good.”

They made their way through the middle doors, joining the bulk of the crowd making its way out of the bar. The sky hung dark and glittering above the DMZ’s protective shields, tinged fluorescent orange by the city’s ambient light. It was one of those travelogue-worthy spring nights in Atlanta in which the pollen count was down but the temperature was up. It was close to three in the morning, the time when Normals relinquished the night to the things that liked to “go bump”.

Cade surveyed the mix of club-goers clogging the sidewalk — an eclectic mix of hybrids that passed as human and humans who looked liked hybrids.

They headed southeast from the club, leaving others behind. The club’s parking lots filled quickly most nights, and Rinna had learned to park a couple of blocks away to avoid the traffic dumping out on to North Avenue. The distance made it easy to determine if someone had followed her out of the club, and it enabled her a final chance to walk through throngs of club-goers to filter their hormones one last time.

Rinna kept her attention on Cade’s adrenaline levels. His excitement was a palpable thing, filling the air between them. She breathed deeply, drawing the heady pheromone into her throat. So tasty. Much better than that stale, synthetic stuff.

“There’s something about you, Rinna,” Cade said softly, his face turned up to the sky. “Something that tells me you’re different from other women in the club.”

“Thank you.”

He scrubbed at his gelled hair. “I mean, when I saw you, I was like, ‘whoa’. I mean, you’re hot, smoking hot, but it’s more than that.”

She could tell. His heart was beating at a rapid pace, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breath. “Uhm, is there a compliment in there or something?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He darted a look at her. “Back in the club, you touched me, and I felt like I’d just nailed a front double cork.”

“I figured you were a sports fanatic. So what’s a snowboarder doing in Atlanta when there’s still plenty of snow on the ground up north?”

“I like all kinds of action,” he told her. “Not just on snow.”

“Only extreme sports, or an adrenaline junkie too?”

“Both.” He spread his hands. “Among other things. What about you?”

“I’m not into sports beyond watching them, and I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”

“So what are you then?”

She slowed her steps. “Excuse me?”

He stopped, turned to face her. “Come on, Rinna. You go to the DMZ, a place that’s a little dicey most of the time. You say you’ve been in the Pit, a place that nobody but daredevils or drunks taking a dare would go into.”

He brushed his cheek along hers, sniffed. “And that perfume works better than anything else I’ve ever inhaled. I’m betting you’re not human.”

By Hetache’s flaming nostrils. Rinna knew the human male was unusual, but most of them, after discovering they weren’t at the top of the food chain, either tried to run or tried to kill. Or, in an effort to show how open and progressive they were, they asked way too many personal questions.

Cade just stood there, the carefree frat boy demeanour gone. “I know humans aren’t it,” he said, his voice even. “I’ve travelled a lot, seen a lot more. It’s cool with me if you’re not human. I just wanted to know what you are exactly.”

“You’re an unusual human,” she finally said. “As for me, I’m a banaranjan.”

“A banaranjan.” He nodded. “What sort of demon is that?”

“I’m not a demon, I’m a being born of this earth just as you are,” she insisted, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. Human prejudices lasted long past their short lifespan. “Banaranjans are a race of beings who need to sample a little adrenaline now and then.”

She didn’t really feel like sharing too much with the strange human. One just couldn’t predict what he’d do with the knowledge. She only knew the stories her crèche mother had told her, mainly horror stories to ensure her obedience. None of the tales involving humans and hybrids ended well, which was why most of the supernatural community preferred living in secret. Humans couldn’t even get along with other humans. Every hybrid knew what would happen if the general population discovered the truth. Humans craved knowledge, but given the chance to create or destroy, most of the time they’d destroy.

Eagerness lit Cade’s expression. “So you’re adrenaline feeders. Do you take it like vampires drink blood?”

The night was going south like a runaway freight train. Her need to feed dissipated on the warm night air. She stopped beneath the dark bare branches of a large oak, a couple of blocks from the club, in an area that quickly gave way to empty buildings and overgrown lots. She was unwilling to go any farther with the human. All she wanted now was to go home. Alone. “I don’t attack people, and I definitely don’t bite. I only take what’s freely given.”

He snorted. “Yeah. I bet the people you’re chomping on don’t see it that way. Doesn’t matter to me, though. I still think we can do this, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and me. Hooking up.”

Rinna’s stomach knotted. “No. By the Dark Abyss, no.” She’d be better off with the male banaranjan.

“Why not?” He stepped closer to her. Even in the late night darkness, she could see that his features had tarnished into something bare and ugly. Even his adrenaline didn’t taste the same. “I like to feel adrenaline hitting my blood. You can make me feel that, you can feed off it. It’s the perfect symbiotic relationship.”

She backed up a step. If she had to defend herself, she’d need room. “Sorry, Cade. I’m not into fetish fulfilment. If you just wanted to get with a hybrid for bragging rights, you should have picked someone else.”

He looked crestfallen, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. “That’s a shame. Guess I’ll have to get my rush some other way.”

“I guess so.” Rinna backed away, wondering how she’d made such a screwed-up choice. Too focused on the hormone and not the human. “Good night.”

“It was nice dancing with you. See you around.” He turned, heading back towards the club.

Rinna watched him head off, then turned and resumed her walk to her car, angry with herself. She should have just sifted for epinephrine in the club, but no, she had to have a direct source. From now on, she’d attend a couple of sporting events when she needed to feed, and learn to like the taste of the synthesized stuff.

The blond’s adrenaline was strong though. So potent. It would have been nice to have a steady source like that. Then again, the guy was an admitted adrenaline junkie. No telling what extremes he’d go to just to—

She had just a split-second to react. She spun down in a crouch, hissing a warning, wings bursting from her shoulder blades.

He crashed into her before her wings could completely unfurl, sending them both rolling along the cracked sidewalk. Pain skittered along her nerves as something snapped in her left wing. Shock raced through her. It wasn’t the male banaranjan attacking her, but the human, Cade. What in the Abyss. .?

Sharper pain exploded in her left shoulder. She ignored it, concentrating all her energy on landing blows on her attacker, wishing she had super-hybrid or even super-human strength. They rolled into a deserted darkened lot, Cade wrapping his hands around her neck.

She got her legs between their bodies then pushed, jettisoning him. He landed with a hard, satisfying crunch.

Stumbling to her feet, she clawed at her shoulder, pulling a syringe free. He’d stabbed her! “What the hell is this, you bastard?”

He spat out a wad of blood and a tooth, then rolled to his feet. “Call it an equalizer.”

“For what?”

“Told you I was into extreme sports. Hunting demons is about as extreme a sport as you can get.”

She’d fallen into a trap. She’d been warned that something like this could happen, but she’d chalked it up to another wild story about dangerous humans. Now she knew better. “You’re a monster!”

He laughed. “And you’re a demon. Told you we were compatible.”

“Why you—!” Her vision swam, then shimmered yellow as her body fluctuated between her human and natural form. Shaking with rage and the drug he’d injected her with, she threw the syringe at Cade, hitting him square in the stomach.

He pulled the needle free with a pained grunt. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

He reached for something. She didn’t take the time to determine what. Instead, she launched herself at him, struggling with her disabled wing, every instinct screaming that she wrap her hand around his throat and mine his fight or flight response for very ounce of adrenaline his heart could pump out before it stopped.

A thick arm caught her about the waist in mid-strike. She howled in outrage, only to clam up swiftly as she caught the clove scent of male banaranjan.

“You play a most dangerous game, banring,” the male said, arms locked about her.

“Let me go!” she snarled. “I am not new from the crèche!”

“Could have fooled me,” another voice said. A female.

Rinna stared. The female was human, but the most unusual human she’d ever seen. Black braids hung past her shoulders. In the darkness Rinna couldn’t tell what shade the woman’s skin was, only that it was lighter than the dark vest she wore without benefit of a shirt beneath. Sinewy arms, lightly muscled, and grey cargo pants. The woman looked breakable, as if she was a dancer. But she held the human male on his knees with just one hand clamped to his forehead. A pale blue glow emanated from the woman, brightest at her hands, brighter still on the blade in her right hand. Even with her vision swimming in and out of focus, Rinna had no doubt as to the woman’s identity.

Shadozuchaser.

Cade groaned, then slumped over face-first. The Shadowchaser released him, shaking her hand as if to flick away grime, then turned to Rinna. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Since when is a Shadowchaser concerned with the health of her enemies?” Rinna blurted out. The male banaranjan squeezed her ribs in warning.

“I’m not,” the Chaser noted. The light surrounding her dagger slowly faded. She shoved it back into its sheath. “Trust me, if you were my enemy, you would know it.”

The male holding her spoke. “Is that him?”

“Yeah.” The Chaser shook like a dog dislodging water from its coat. “You don’t want to know what sort of sport he had in mind for this little one.”

“And she walked right into it.” The disapproval in the male’s voice was palpable. If Rinna weren’t injured, she would have struggled against his superior strength.

The Shadowchaser pulled gloves out of her back pocket, slipped them on. “Thanks for the head’s up, Bale.”

Bale? Banaranjans rarely gave their names, simply because clan offences ran deep and fights could break out over centuries’ old slights.

She twisted around to the other banaranjan. He dipped his head. “I call myself Bale,” he said, deliberately leaving off his clan name. “What do you call yourself?”

“Rinna.” She, too, left off her clan name.

“Rinna, that is Kira Solomon, the Shadowchaser for this area,” Bale said. “Your date calls himself Cade, and he’s been linked to the disappearances of quite a few hybrids in and around this town.”

Rinna stared at the unconscious human male. Her body was using quite a bit of the harvested adrenaline to fight her injuries and the drug, leaving her brain sluggish. “He hunts hybrids. . for sport?”

“He tends to prey on solo hybrids, female ones, because he thinks they’re weaker,” the Chaser said, nudging the human male with one booted foot. “He uses his physical assets in an effort to have some sort of liaison and if that doesn’t work, he’ll resort to drugs.”

Rinna felt the Chaser’s gaze, cool and assessing, quite like her crèche mother determining which of the banrings were weakest and should be put out to die of exposure. Since a banring didn’t have wings, death was usually quick if they were eaten or slow if left to the elements. “He injected me in the shoulder,” she told them. “And I think something’s wrong with my wing.”

“You have a tear, and one joint is dislocated,” Bale explained. “The syringe probably contained something that could drop an elephant. You will need a couple of days of down time to work the tranquillizers out of your system and to heal your wing. I can take care of it for you, and give you a place to stay.”

Rinna stared up at him. Their people were territorial to the point of obsession. Tribes didn’t intermingle without deadly consequences. Accepting his offer might be the same as leaping out of the crèche and into the fire. “I–I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Your judgment isn’t worth much right now,” the Chaser said bluntly. “Besides, quite a few people saw you leave the club with this guy. Laying low isn’t a bad thing. Go with Bale. He can tend to your wing, and teach you a thing or two about living here.”

Rinna lifted her chin. “What if I refuse?”

The Shadowchaser didn’t so much as curl her lips. “You have two choices. One: you go with Bale and allow him to help you.”

“What’s the second?”

“I put you into a Gilead holding tank. The problem with that is that those who go in usually don’t come out.”

“Rinna,” Bale’s warning voice was a low hiss. “Did your crèche mother teach you nothing? Do not antagonize a Shadowchaser. Especially that Shadowchaser. Let me offer you my hospitality.”

The Chaser squatted until she was at eye level with Rinna. “Why did you come here, banaranjan?”

“Because back home it was time to join the feud, and fight,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. She wanted to lean against Bale, appreciate his warmth and inhale the reassuring scent of cloves. But she couldn’t be vulnerable, not yet, not more than she already was. “I didn’t want to fight.”

The Shadowchaser looked to the male. “And you, Bale. Want to tell her why you came here?”

“Fighting without good reason is a waste of time and energy. ‘Just because’ isn’t reason enough.” His voice was a low rumble against Rinna’s back.

Rinna flinched when the Chaser trained her gaze Rinna’s way. “Seems to me like you’ve got more in common with Bale than you may think.”

Kira straightened. “Bale does a lot of work in the hybrid community, particularly for those without other affiliations for one reason or another. If you want to be a successful part of this community, Bale will help you. Of course, if you don’t want to be a successful part of this community, you then become my problem.”

The Chaser split her gaze between Rinna and the male as Bale helped Rinna to her feet. Rinna held her ground, but just barely. This Shadowchaser was younger than her. But the Chaser’s heart beat a normal rhythm; no adrenaline pumped through her veins. Kira frightened Rinna more than facing her clan’s wrath, and the Chaser hadn’t so much as threatened her.

“I came here to live my life as far from banaranjan politics and intrigue as I can get. But I’m a hybrid, and I obviously have a lot to learn. I think I’ve experienced enough stupidity for one night. I gladly accept your offer.”

Bale helped her to her feet. Rinna gritted her teeth but her wings refused to retract. It was Bale who gently folded her wings back snug against her shoulder blades, but the pain was still intense. Somehow she bore it, using the agony to drill clarity into her adrenaline- and drug-soaked skull.

“I guess I won’t be driving tonight.”

“I’ll get you some place safe,” Bale assured her, “then return for your car. On my word, you will be safe in my care. I’ve promised the Shadowchaser.”

She looked at the Chaser. Without the blue glow suffusing her skin and the small smile curving her lips, the Chaser looked almost normal.

Rinna turned her attention to the human male. “What are you going to do with him?”

The Chaser’s smile faded. “I don’t take well to rogues running loose in my town. I don’t care what side they’re on. Your friend will be made to see the Light.”

Rinna shivered. The way the Chaser said it, Rinna didn’t think she meant a pleasant conversation leading to reason and understanding. She was glad she wasn’t on the woman’s Chase list.

“Thank you, thank you both for your help.” With danger averted, her body wanted rest, despite her mind’s will to the contrary. “I will find some way to repay my debt to you. I will—”

Her next words were lost to the Abyss as she slipped headlong into unconsciousness.

Rinna spent days in Bale’s care, healing her wing, learning about her adoptive city, listening to Bale talk about the need for communication and understanding among the disparate hybrid communities in Atlanta, especially with a Shadowchaser and Gilead Commission watching and waiting.

She spent nights face down on a thick featherbed, her face cradled by a down pillow, careful not to disturb her healing wing. Not that much could disturb her in sleeping quarters like this. The bed linens felt soft and luxurious against her skin, quite unlike the nettles lining the banring crèche she’d called home for her first decade of life. Even her bed in her apartment didn’t feel half as wonderful, and she’d made sure nothing about it reminded her of her old life.

Bale’s place was a two-bedroom condo with floor-to-ceiling windows giving an unobscured view of the Midtown Atlanta skyline. When he wasn’t helping hybrids, he worked as a sports agent and talent scout, a gig that enabled the male banaranjan to get his adrenaline fix and make a living.

The more she listened to Bale, the more star-struck she became. He was unlike any banaranjan she’d ever known, male or female. It was easy to give her imagination free rein, to envision founding a new clan with him, a clan that didn’t make a habit of pursuing conflict just because storm clouds filled the air.

Even without the thought of establishing a new clan here in Atlanta, Rinna wanted to experience Bale in all his glory. Banaranjans coupled with the strongest or the fastest partner during a mating flight in order to produce offspring with the greatest chance of survival. Love and other tender emotions were aberrations, and not necessary to producing healthy young.

Rinna had left her clan and in doing so, had left old beliefs and ways behind. She was free to explore her tender feelings. Free to act on them.

Unfortunately, Bale didn’t seem to share her sentiment. He was a male in his prime, strong, fierce, well-formed. He could have his pick of female banaranjans if he wanted. Perhaps he already did, even without sharing his clan affiliation.

“Did you hear me, Rinna?”

She shook herself out of her reverie. She had perched atop one of the red leather barstools that lined the kitchen counter while Bale examined her wing. “I’m sorry. Too busy thinking. What did you say?”

She could feel him manipulate the wing, testing the spread, the membranes, each joint, the touch of his fingers sure and warm. “I said it looks like your wing has healed up nicely. Can you fold it down?”

Rinna concentrated, calling her magic to fold her wings snug, then curl them in to her shoulder blades, hiding them beneath her human glamour. She spun on the barstool until she faced him. “It didn’t hurt. Thank you!” Impulsively, she threw her arms about his shoulders.

He stepped into the embrace, meaning her thighs flanked his own. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice gravelly. “You’ll be night flying in no time.”

She drew back enough so that she could whisper in his ear. “I haven’t been night flying before. Don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking me?”

He drew back further, to stare into her eyes. “Surely you’ve been. .?”

“With human males, yes,” she answered. “Never night flying with a banaranjan male, though.”

Thunder chose that moment to rumble over the building, sending the expansive windows vibrating as rain began to pelt the glass. “It’s going to be a hell of a storm,” he told her, yellow eyes sparking. “Care to fly with me?”

Flying in the midst of a storm was to banaranjans like catnip to cats. With Bale, it would be more than just flying. It would be much more. She saw the clear intent in his eyes and thrilled at the prospect.

But if her wings couldn’t support her, couldn’t take the force of diving and banking, she’d be all but useless. “Do you think my wing will be all right?”

“Don’t worry.” He held out a hand to her. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He led her over to the balcony. Fifteen storeys up gave a decent view of Midtown Atlanta, the Fox Theatre south of them with its marquee like a beacon in the storm. This time of night, in a storm like this, few humans would be about. Few hybrids would venture into the rain, lightning and potential hail. It was a perfect time to be a banaranjan, a perfect night to go flying.

Grinning with the joy of being alive, she quickly stripped, her skin tingling as electricity gathered in the blue-black clouds. She dropped her glamour next, magic running over her like raindrops, changing her skin from peach to copper satin. Her wings unfurled, supple leather, filling the balcony. “Why don’t you try and catch me now, Bale?” she dared him, then leapt out into the night.

His laughter rang out behind her, trilling along her nerves as she reached for the sky. Her wings obeyed the involuntary command, beating huge gusts of air to thrust her skyward. Blue-white lightning arced overhead, fat drops of rain biting into her skin. Adrenaline flooded her system, giving her body a slight glow. Bale was out there somewhere, stalking her, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

As soon as she thought it, he was there, magnificently elemental and male. Her breath caught as he banked in front of her, courting her with his flying prowess. She appreciated the effort, but she’d wanted him for days. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to make him work for it.

She climbed higher, up into the storm clouds. He followed, she could sense it, feel it, see the adrenaline glow of his body through the clouds and rain and lightning.

Her heart thumped as he caught her, arms tightening about her. Instinctively she thrust her arms around his neck and folded her wings. His eyes burned brilliant yellow, power radiating from him. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

She threw back her head as he entered her, sensations pummelling her as lightning rolled through them and around them; wild, driving, a tumult of power and pleasure as Bale drove them higher and higher. Suddenly they broke through the storm, to a place where everything slowed. They hovered there at the edge of the earth for a couple of wingbeats, hearts pounding, pleasure peaking, souls bonding. She touched his cheek, wonder and something more fragile blossoming.

Then Bale folded his wings and dived down, back down, back into the chaos, the frenzy. Wind screamed past them as they fell, causing them to spin with the force and speed of their dive. Rinna shrieked as pleasure exploded through her body, launching spikes of lightning. Bale joined her a moment later, thunder booming with their ecstasy.

The snap of Bale’s wings opening was louder than a thunderclap. They jerked upright, his wings beating fiercely in a fight against gravity. She realized then how far they’d fallen in their pursuit of pleasure as Bale flew up to reach his balcony.

She slid away from him, and then missed him immediately, still shaking and lightheaded from the experience. He folded his wings away, then wrapped a large palm around the back of her neck and pulled her closer for a kiss, their first kiss. They stood there, kissing, steam rising from their bodies as the ferocity of the storm and their passion subsided.

They broke apart, fighting to regain their breath. “That was wonderful,” Rinna whispered. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Rinna.” He squeezed her, then turned to slide open the balcony door. “By the wings of Keterach, that was an amazing flight!” He headed into the darkness of the main room.

Rinna froze in shock. Keterach. Her clan’s most-hated enemy. Banaranjans preferred war to peace on the best of occasions. With Shadowchasers and the Gilead Commission now policing the preternatural community, her race had long ago turned the love of battle into the art of grudge-holding, taking to thunderous skies to settle disputes under cover of storms.

Sweet Darkness, she had taken to the skies with her mortal enemy! Worse, she had mated with him. If her clan found out, she would be worse than dead.

Did he know her clan affiliation? Surely not, or he wouldn’t have stepped in to save her. Then again, he had been careful to not give his clan name when they first met. Maybe he already knew. Maybe healing her and taking her out into the night was all part of some sort of plot to gain leverage over her, or make sure she could never rejoin her clan again.

“Rinna?” Bale came back for her. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied. “I’m just worn out. I could really use some sleep.”

He scooped her up. “Sleep, yes. Then we’ll reenact our flight without the pyrotechnics. Then talk.”

Rinna bit her lip. She wanted this, wanted Bale with the same intensity that she’d wanted to escape her clan. She fought a swell of panic. Somehow she had to make it through, then find time to think. No matter what, she had to get away from Bale, even if it was a mistake. Because if it wasn’t a mistake, her life was in danger.

“Rinna?”

She snapped out of her reverie, raising her head as a man approached the table. He looked the part of a successful human business man, dressed for the mild late spring weather in dark khakis and a burgundy-coloured dress shirt.

“Bale.” She immediately covered her eyes with her palms, a traditional banaranjan greeting to another of higher rank, skill, power or age.

“That’s not necessary, Rinna.”

“Perhaps not to you,” she replied, lowering her hands, “but necessary to me. Will you join me?”

He took the chair opposite hers, facing the entrance. He looked good, still fit and in his prime, dark hair curling thickly about his ears, brows like two wide slashes above dark brown eyes lit with flecks of otherness yellow, the strong chin, stronger nose. Even his mouth hinted at his power. Taken separately each feature could be overwhelming, but Bale’s features fit him perfectly. A strong, striking face, the face of a man secure in his abilities.

She remembered his eyes the most. Those eyes had regarded her with gentleness, with compassion, with consternation, and then with intimate heat. Now, those eyes stared at her with cool civility, no trace of the passion that had surprised and disturbed them both two years ago.

Bale broke the awkward silence. “Chaser Solomon called me, said that you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.”

“You know you didn’t have to go through the Chaser to meet with me,” he admonished. “She’s got enough to deal with right now.”

Rinna stared down at the table, her heart sinking. Not that she’d thought Bale would wrap his wings around her and lift her off the floor in a banaranjan lover’s embrace, but this cool distance was disconcerting and disheartening.

“I thought if the request came from the Shadowchaser and not from me, that you would be more inclined to come,” she said. “Chaser Solomon didn’t seem to mind.”

“Either way, I am here.” He leaned back in his chair. “What do you wish to talk about?”

The rehearsed words fled her mind. “I wanted to thank you again, for what you did for me two years ago.”

He waved a hand. “You’ve already thanked me for that. There’s no need to rehash it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t mean just saving me from the hunter,” she said softly. “Though that was huge. You helped me a great deal that night. And afterwards.”

He nodded. “I did. Then you left.”

“I had a valid reason.”

“Yeah.” He sat back. “The classic ‘I-need-to-find-myself’ letter that humans have used for centuries. You didn’t have to do that, Rinna. I would have helped you.”

“You helped me enough. I needed to help myself. I was almost taken out by a human thrill killer, I was mouthy with a Shadowchaser, and I ran away from you — twice.” She sighed. “I was childish. Thinking that I could survive the way I was back then proved it.”

“But you have survived,” Bale pointed out. “You’re here now.” He paused. “Why are you here?”

“To ask you for another chance.” She leaned forward. “I actually took some training while I was away. Studying for a psychology degree. I know the classes are geared to human psychology, but I’ve been thinking of how to customize some of the information for the hybrid community. In particular, to displaced, outcast or lone hybrids who need a sense of belonging.”

She lowered her gaze again. “Not having a place to belong, a group to belong to, can be very isolating for those of us used to being part of clan dynamics.”

He nodded. “It can make us make mistakes, do things we deeply regret later.”

“Yeah.” Did he have regrets? She fiddled with her coffee cup, struggled gamely on. “There can also be issues for hybrids used to being loners, issues with being able to trust others in times of need. Even simple things like coordinating knowledge of threats against us from within and without can be beneficial.”

She reached for her messenger bag, pulled out a thick notebook in a binder. “I have some other suggestions, just ideas for outreach and stuff like that. Not anything particularly earth-shattering or radical, but I think it might be good for those of us who don’t want to be on the wrong end of the Shadowchaser’s blade.” She slid her binder to him.

He pulled the notebook closer, then opened it. Rinna watched him as he flipped through the sections. “Why did you do all of this?”

“I want to work with you to help the hybrid community here. I don’t want what nearly happened to me to happen to someone else because of fear or ignorance.”

She took a deep breath, then added, “And I hope it’s a way of showing I can be of value to you.”

“You are of value to me, Rinna,” he finally said, closing the book. “Obviously I didn’t do a good job of showing you that.”

“You did, but I wasn’t sure of what I felt or what you felt. Then I discovered that you descend from Keterach. I descend from Hetache. It’s an enmity that goes back centuries, so far that no one knows the cause. All I know is that we’re supposed to be mortal enemies.”

“Duels to the death on sight, the nursery rhymes used to say.” His gaze raked over her. “Do you want to fight me now, Rinna?”

“No. A duel to the death between two banaranjans would level most of Virginia-Highlands.”

“Not to mention a fight like that would come to the Shadowchaser’s notice.”

“Yeah.” She shuddered. “I’d really rather not be on her bad side if I can help it.”

“I seem to recall you saying that the reason you came to Atlanta was because you didn’t want to fight,” he said then. “My reasoning was, and still is, the same.” He sighed. “I know how hard it is to be alone, to try to find a place different from what you’ve been taught all you life. Seeing you, a lone female, triggered the clan instinct in me. When you left with that human male, I was angry. Seriously angry. Only the DMZ’s protective shielding prevented me from confronting you in the club. And the Chaser stopped me from immediately going after you when you left.”

He spread his hands. “Luckily, my anger turned to concern when I realized who the human was. Call it the clan instinct or male arrogance, I don’t know. But I only knew that I had to take you from him. After the danger passed and you healed, I couldn’t shake the instinct or desire, or whatever, to make you mine.”

“Really?” She hadn’t known. “You did a good job of keeping that to yourself.”

“To be blunt, I did a piss-poor job of suppressing it. Which is why I’m glad you left like you did.”

“You are?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t tell if I wanted you because you’re Rinna or because you’re a lone banaranjan female. I also wasn’t sure if your attraction to me was an after-effect of your ordeal with the hunter or because you were interested in me. I would have ignored those doubts for as long as possible if it kept you with me. Eventually though, I think it would have soured everything. And I didn’t want to sour anything between us.”

“Bale.”

“So I’m glad you left. You had things to learn about yourself, and I had things to learn about myself.”

“What did you learn?” She could barely get the question out.

Dark brown eyes flared yellow as they bored into hers. “I learned that I want you even more now than I did two years ago.”

If she’d had her wings out, they would have shivered with pleasure. “I was afraid you’d be angry, angry enough to refuse me. We are grudge-holders, you know.”

“I’ve no grudge against you.” He reached out, lacing their fingers together. “I think we’ve already proved that we’re not like other banaranjans.”

“We’re most definitely not.” She smiled.

Bale returned her smile. “Then why don’t we start over? Have a little breakfast here at the Majestic and talk about your ideas, and where we go from here?”

“I’d like that, but I don’t think we have to start over completely. For instance, I really enjoyed that night-flying manoeuvre.”

“Good.” Heat crept into his gaze. “Because I plan on doing a lot of night-flying with you.”

“Sam!” Rinna called. “We need to order. Something tells me I’m going to need some energy!”