Page 39 of Something Wicked
“Yes!”
“Then get your own room. Oh, wait. Can I watch you try making a reservation? You’d have to jump onto the counter to sign in. Your snake/cat/dragon/whatever forms don’t include a human body, do they?”
“You’re offensive.”
“Thank you!” Wycke swept the type of bow his sister said he should for the king. “I do try.”
Chynne narrowed his eyes to slits. “Once I find my master, he’ll make you sorry you were so rude to me.” The cat pouted?
Fuck. “Okay. Okay. The couch lets out into a bed.” Wycke opened the couch. “This is yours. Happy now?”
“Oh, yes!” Chynne lolled on Wycke’s bed. He would never win.
“You know the willing body I mentioned?”
“Yes?” Chynne stretched luxuriously, sinking his claws into the pillow.
If Wycke didn’t get the cat off the bed soon, the hair-covered blankets wouldn’t be worth sleeping on. “Bodily fluids. Grunting. Panting. All. Over. The. Bed. Whether or not you’re under the covers is none of my concern.”
“Spoilsport.” Chynne jumped onto the pullout bed. “We could share.”
“The bed or the human?” Wycke made a face. “Eww… No. Forget I asked. Now, I’m going out. Try not to cause any trouble.” Wycke traded gray pinstripes for blue denim, the shirt with too many buttons for a T-shirt, his shoes for low boots. At least he’d chosen a fairy with good taste this time.
The television turned on, the channels flipping until settling on a show. So, Chynne was familiar with human realm technology. Duly noted.
Wycke tied his hair back into a tail, then checked himself in the mirror. “Show me others from my realm.” Sometimes the command worked, sometimes not. Without the band on his wrist, maybe he stood a better chance.
For long moments, nothing happened, then the image in the mirror warped, the hotel room disappearing. The dark insides of a building came into view, filled with writhing bodies. A club. Perfect. Surely someone knew something about the child. Though based on Wycke’s earlier vision, no way the child wasn’t lost.
Let Chynne discover the fact for himself. He’d never believe Wycke anyway since he insisted he felt his master.
Wishful thinking?
Wycke viewed the club for several minutes, then stepped through the glass.
A hunter on the prowl.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Human Realm
Wycke emerged from the club's shadows, the driving beat nearly bashing him over the head, especially after viewing a muted version of the scene through his mirror. He scanned the crowd. A minor mage nodded, flitting past to pursue a young man with tattoos covering his torso instead of a shirt.
Based on the number of men trying to catch his gaze, Wycke could easily fulfill his threat to Chynne. Several men, a night of passion, no names exchanged, no one trying to call in favors later.
Tempting.
A gnome shot pool in the back of the room with a pixie, disguised as human leather daddies. Their exaggerated muscles flexed with their movements. Wycke marked each magical being to interrogate later about the missing Pieravor Gimitri.
Magical energy buzzed low against his ears. Power prickled across his skin, drawing him forward. Sorcerer? Senior mage? The hairs on the back of his neck rose. What a rush. He must find the source.
There! No. Not there. Over there! Wycke spun, playing a magical version of the hot and cold game he’d played as a child.The sensation of ants on his skin died abruptly. Maybe he imagined the feeling. Time for a drink. With some maneuvering, he parted the sea of dancing bodies to open a path to the bar.
Men watched his every move, suggestive smiles offering a distraction. Two men stepped past, one rubbing a hand over Wycke’s ass and winking. Their passing left a clear view of the bar.
Damnation!
No shirt, dark jeans, smooth skin, dark hair shimmering with blue highlights in the flashing lights. A gorgeous example of maleness looked up. Wycke recalled another human phrase: holy shit! Those ice-blue eyes…No hair showed on the man’s chest, which revealed a pronounced scar on his breastbone.
