Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2) (3 page)

“And the bouncer?” she asked as they approached the unguarded front door.

“Gone.”

“Hmm.”

Outside, the air was cold. A persistent drizzle trickled down from the sky, slicking Alex’s arms. Too bad a jacket hadn’t been part of her outfit. Logan swiped an umbrella from the stand on his way out of the club.

“Hey, that’s theft.”

Logan opened the umbrella. “Alex, we just blasted our way out of an enemy stronghold. A stolen umbrella is the least of our concerns.” He reached out, pulling her close. “Besides, I know how women swoon over dangerous, umbrella-stealing rogues.”

She rose to her toes. “Dangerous? You?” She nipped his bottom lip. “You’re as harmless as a kitten.”

Laughter growled deep inside of him, his chest rumbling against hers. “We have a few hours. I’ve sent the files I stole to Marek. It will take a while for them to be decrypted.”

“Are you sure that was wise? Marek might blow up the computer. He’s not tech-savvy. Not like you.”

“No, he’s not.” Logan’s lips brushed past hers, light and teasing. “That’s why we have a few hours.”

“Funny.”

“I have a program running back at our base that will decrypt the files. Marek doesn’t even have to take time out of his busy schedule of styling his hair and setting things on fire.”

“Marek is our friend. You shouldn’t mock him.”

“Marek is
your
friend. And he shouldn’t provoke me all the time if he doesn’t want to be mocked.”

Alex linked her hands behind his neck and kissed his jaw. “You’re a bad, bad man, Slayer.”

“No worse than you, Vigilante.”

His hand traced the curve of her back and rolled over her hip. It slid across her thigh, slow, deliberate. And downright frustrating. Her pulse popped against her skin, hot and heavy. His hand froze on the edge of her skirt, as though he were trying to decide if he would peel it up. Her mind screamed at him, willing him to do just that. He’d been teasing her for weeks—ok, maybe she’d been doing some teasing of her own—but enough was enough. She wanted him with a deep and dark desire, a need that throbbed and gnawed, that melted her self-restraint into sweet oblivion.

“Alex.”

His breath was hot against her lips. She pulled him closer, longing to swallow him whole. With fluid ease, he slid out of her grasp, and she moaned in protest. He shot her a devilish smirk.

“You bastard,” she growled.

“We need to move before the Convictionites send more soldiers,” he said practically, then started walking.

Damn him. Him and his practicality. She hurried after him. “You know, we could have done that before you started…”

“Yes?” he prompted, lifting his brows.

“Before you started doing
that
.” She threw up her hands in frustration. What she really wanted to do was punch something. Hard. Too bad all the buildings around here were made of bricks. She angled her glare at Logan.

“Turnabout is fair play, darling,” he told her calmly. “After what you did in Barcelona last week, surely you expected retaliation.”

Barcelona, one of the many cities they’d chased rumors of the Blood Orb to in the weeks since the Convictionites had escaped with it. They’d run across half of Europe looking for that orb. They’d scoured London twice already. The damn Convictionites were leading them around in circles.

“If you’re referring to the incident at Plaza Real, then you should know I was only retaliating against what
you
did in Florence,” she ground out.

He smiled. “I thought you liked games, Alex.”

She growled at him.

He jumped back, chuckling. “Fair enough. It appears we’re equally to blame. How about a truce? Dinner at the Black Castle.”

“You want to bring me to a restaurant where assassins hang out?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, it’s fine.” She shot him a grin. “Maybe I’ll find myself a handsome assassin to take home with me.”

“You’re certainly starting off our truce on a great foot,” he said drily.

“Did you expect anything else?”

“No.” He pulled out his phone. When he tried to turn on the screen, though, it remained dark. “Damn. That lightning magic you shot through me must have fried my phone too.”

“Hey, it was your idea, genius. I would have just stabbed the evil Convictionite lackeys.”

“Indeed.” He looked down at his wrist, frowning when he didn’t find his watch there.

“Forget your bling?” she teased.

“That watch cost over $10,000.”

She smiled at him. “Like I said: bling.”

“The last time we crossed paths with the Convictionites, my ‘bling’ didn’t survive the encounter. I didn’t want the new one to suffer the same fate.” He looked up at the clocktower. “It’s nearly half past nine.”

“Too late for assassins to satisfy their munchies?”

“Too early, if anything.” He took her hand. “Now, come on. I have a surprise for you.”

The smoldering look he gave her made it impossible to argue.

CHAPTER THREE

The Black Castle

THE BLACK CASTLE lived up to its name. It wasn’t a castle in the turrets-and-towers sense of the word. No, the design of London’s gathering spot for the killing elite was decidedly more modern. Between the black bricks that covered the exterior, and the large windows that looked out upon the Thames, the building certainly had style.

Inside, the walls were red, the floors marble, and the lighting choreographed by a true artist. Gigantic glass vases filled with huge decorative twigs stood outside the front entrance, beside the reception desk, and on either side of the grand staircase that led up to the dining area.

Their hostess led Alex and Logan up those stairs now, her shiny black heels clapping against the white marble. On the upper level, the atmosphere was more serious, though no less extravagant. Like in all the world’s big cities, the assassin business was clearly booming in London. Men and women—all dressed in black, all carrying their own personal armories—sat at the bar, or at one of the two dozen tables draped with dark silk tablecloths. As Alex passed the bar, a few of them turned to watch her.

“I think they like my outfit,” she told Logan with a grin. She tapped the knives strapped to her thigh. “Or my accessories.”

Logan glowered at the other assassins until they looked away.

“My hero,” she chuckled, linking her arm in his.

“They were ogling at you,” he said, his voice monotone. His eyes, however, were burning like green fire.

“I thought assassins don’t ogle.”

He grumbled something incomprehensible.

“Why, Logan.” She smirked at him. “I do think that you’re jealous.”

They had reached their table. Logan waved away their hostess.

“Assassins don’t get jealous.” He pulled out Alex’s chair. As she sat, he whispered into her ear, “We get even.”

“Yes, you’re very scary,” she said, watching him sit. “All the other scary assassins are afraid of you. Well, almost all.” She took a sip of water from her glass and winked at the only other assassin still openly watching her.

Logan looked over his menu, following her gaze. He frowned when he saw the leather-clad female assassin at the bar. “You shouldn’t encourage Dispatch.”

“Dispatch?” Alex choked on her water. “She calls herself Dispatch?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just that she’s an assassin.” Alex coughed. “And her name is Dispatch.”

“And mine’s Slayer. We assassins aren’t the most creative bunch when it comes to coming up with pseudonyms.”

“True. Paranormal Vigilante is way better.”

“But not as cool as the Black Plague,” he said, naming her less-flattering title.

“Cute, assassin. Real cute.”

She tossed a roll at his head. His supernatural reflexes didn’t fail him. He caught it easily. As he took a bite of the roll, warm, sweet steam simmered up from it.

Alex gave in to the temptation singing to her senses and grabbed a roll for herself. “So, what do you recommend?” she asked, scanning the menu.

“How hungry are you?”

“I just fought an army of evil minions and unloaded a bomb of lightning magic into my boyfriend. I’d say I’m pretty damn hungry.” She tapped on the first dish under ‘Specials’. “How about this Assassin’s Grave dish? It says it’s for hungry assassins, but it doesn’t say what’s in it. I hope it’s not body parts.”

“Yes, fresh from the graveyard.”

“Haha.”

He smirked at her. “It’s two fish fillets, breaded, with chopped basil, fresh parmesan, and a dash of lemon. And a complement of sliced potato strips with olive oil, garlic, and rosemary.”

She blinked at him.

“Posh fish ’n chips,” he translated.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

“No. In fact, I think I’ll order it for myself.”

“You’re so garish.”

“Of course I am. I wear bling.”

Alex snorted and thumbed further down the list of morbidly-named dishes. “Death by Tray? Is that some sort of joke?”

“The owner thinks it’s hilarious. An assassin fellow named Butcher. You’d like him.”

“I’m sure,” she said, chewing on her lip. “Oh, what’s this? Death by Chocolate. Mmm. I’ve faced that delicious foe before. And won.”

“And now you will tempt fate once more?”

“I endeavor to live up to my reckless reputation. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you and Marek. Admit it. You two would be completely bored without me.” Alex waved to the waiter.

“Well, my bodycount wasn’t nearly as high before I met you.”

Alex wasn’t sure whether or not that was meant as a compliment. Coming from an assassin, it probably was. She didn’t have time to ask him about it, though, because the waiter had stopped beside their table. After they ordered their deaths by different means, he stalked off. It was then that Alex noticed he had a pair of daggers tucked under his tuxedo jacket. Wow, even the staff at the Black Castle were armed. Maybe he was an assassin moonlighting as a waiter until he got his big break.

“Should I be concerned by the way you’re staring at Eron?” Logan asked her.

“Just wondering why a waiter needs such wicked-looking daggers.” She turned her gaze on Logan. “You know his name?”

“My work often brings me to London. And this is my favorite restaurant in the city.”

Something he was now sharing with her. Maybe she shouldn’t have teased him about his posh fish ’n chips.

Your mouth does have a way of getting away from you.

Thanks,
she told her dragon.

That’s why I’m here. To provide the deep insight.

I thought you were here to make snide comments.

Her dragon grinned into her mind.
Multitasking, my dear Alex. I am a dragon of many talents.

Logan was watching her like she’d gotten that glassy-eyed look again. Damn. She could stand to improve her own multitasking talents.

“Is this a date?” she asked Logan with a bright smile.

“No. Not exactly.” He returned the smile. “But we really should get around to going on one of those.”

“Agreed. And this would be a nice place to have it.”

She looked across the dining area. Sure, the swords hanging on the walls were a bit medieval—and some of the assassins were a dour bunch—but you couldn’t beat the view.

Or the company,
she thought, looking at Logan. She’d have a picnic on a beach of razor-sharp rocks as long as she got to spend time with him.

A glass shattered somewhere close to the bar. Alex glanced over there to find Dispatch holding up an elegant stem, the broken remnants of her wine glass. She winked at Alex.

Logan’s jaw stiffened. “I’m serious about Dispatch, Alex. If you flirt with her, she might decide to come over. And she doesn’t take disappointment well.”

“
She
broke a glass to get my attention. And
she
winked at me.”

“After you winked at her.” He sighed.

“Chill. I’m sure she was just toasting to show her appreciation of my steel. And besides,” she added, leaning across the table to kiss him on the cheek. “I like your muscles better than hers.”

His hand locked around her wrist, holding her there. “Good.”

He kissed her lips—slowly, softly at first. But as his rhythm changed, shifting rougher, going deeper, her magic broke free. It ground against him, rolling over the ripples of his aura, tracing the contours of his body.

Suddenly, he pulled away. Her pulse was pounding like a runaway train in her ears; her breaths were coming out in stuttered puffs.

“I thought we were done playing games,” she growled.

“Sorry, love. The man I came here to see just arrived.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better be, or I might decide to invite Dispatch over,” she muttered.

Logan was already halfway to the bar, but she knew he’d heard her. He stopped beside another assassin in black, a man on the upper end of fifty. He still looked as fit as the younger assassins in the room—and decidedly more sober. As he and Logan began to talk, he glanced over his shoulder, briefly meeting Alex’s eyes before turning back. The glance was quick, professional. He hadn’t stopped to ogle at her skimpy dress.

The man spoke a few more words to Logan, then turned and walked down the stairs. He must have been a big name in the assassin world because Alex wasn’t the only one watching him as he left. Several other assassins tracked his movements, most of them women. One female assassin licked her lips, her eyes trailing him until he was out of sight.

“Your friend made quite the impression,” Alex commented as Logan sat down at their table again.

“He always does.”

The waiter arrived with their plates. Alex didn’t waste any time launching a full-scale assault on her chocolate.

“I still can’t believe you’re having chocolate for dinner,” Logan said, watching her with fascination.

“Really? You should know me well enough by now to not be the least bit surprised by that.” She licked chocolate icing off her fork. “So tell me about Sexy Silver.”

“Sexy Silver?”

“Your friend. The stately gentleman who made at least four female assassins hyperventilate.”

“You exaggerate.”

“Nope. Four female assassins and one dude. Though that might have been an adverse reaction to his dinner. He’d had the Assassin’s Grave too.” She leaned over to sniff his dish, then shot him a wicked grin. “You might want to order something else.”