Electric Storm (2 page)

If she could learn how they did it, she knew she could fix her own control issues. Unfortunately, that meant firsthand experience. Physical contact. Her heart thumped hard, imagining what it would be like to finally allow herself to touch someone without the fear that she’d kill them.

None of this would matter if her damn gift didn’t morph every time she got close to mastering it. If she didn’t get a handle on it soon, it wouldn’t be much longer before her secret became exposed to the paranormal world. Then she would be hunted in earnest. A conduit was too valuable, too dangerous to all sides to be left unclaimed.

If tonight’s plan didn’t work, the very short list of possible cures would grow even shorter. At least in this experiment, the byproduct wasn’t a bad exchange. Rumors said shifters were intense and generous lovers.

She took a deep breath to calm the shimmering power that rose at her initial unease. The energy that hovered over her slowly settled and soaked back into her skin, wrapping her in a warm blanket as if to offer comfort. She lifted her chin to the nondescript door at the end of the hallway, ready to face the beasts in their den.

She cracked open her senses. Smells crested over her in waves. The fresh scent of shifters, the spice of vampires and the sharp, overly sweet stench of an odd magic user were all added to the mix. Every time a practitioner used their craft, a splash of magic skittered along Raven’s arms like she’d brushed against cobwebs.

The knot in her stomach clenched. She called it excitement, refusing to admit she could’ve made a mistake coming inside. The last time she’d been around this many people, it hadn’t gone well. At the slightest threat, her power took control and did whatever it had to in order to protect her.

The harsh reminder soothed her ragged emotions, and she shoved them into the vault from which they’d escaped. Emotions meant loss of control, meant someone would suffer. Closing her eyes, she searched every nook and cranny of her shields for cracks.

When she found none, the last of the knots holding her muscles hostage faded. No one would attack her here. No one would be able to break her shields and discover the horrible truth.

“In or out?”

“Excuse me?” Raven whirled, her gaze unerringly finding those of a man...no, a wolf in human form who stood a little over six feet. He towered over her by at least half a foot, forcing her to take a step back in order to meet his gaze without cricking her neck.

Damn touchy-feely shifters. They didn’t have any boundaries or understand the concept of personal space, especially between unclaimed men and women.

Fresh air clung to him, relaxing some of her initial surprise at finding him so close. Though handsome, there was something a little too masculine about him, a little too purposeful in his actions that left her unsettled. She resisted the urge to fidget, glad she took care to make herself as forgettable as possible. Dressed in black, her distinctive, silver-tipped hair pinned back like a prim schoolmarm, she little resembled the carefree, underdressed partygoers who frequented the place.

“I said are you going in or out?” Dark brows lowered in annoyance, and those deep brown eyes shone brightly in the hallway, revealing his animal nature. Power wrapped around him, barely leashed, rubbing against her. It didn’t hurt, though it wasn’t quite pleasant either. More of a brusque probe to find out if she was a threat. The taste of his magic revealed he had no interest in her.

She stepped aside to let him pass, refusing to shrink in front of him, taking care to ensure they didn’t touch. He didn’t seem to notice, not even sparing her a glance. He just grunted, gliding by on silent feet. The noise of the club rose as he entered the room beyond.

Raven pried open her clenched fingers, finding them reluctant to obey. Though she should be pleased, his dismissive attitude annoyed her. Despite having a very small portion of the shifter genetic make-up, her mind blared a warning that all males inside would have the same reaction. Like was attracted to like, and she most definitely was not one of them. Not really, despite all the tests conducted on her as a child. Tests the labs performed to find out how much control she had over the animal counterparts locked away at her core. A core that gave a low rumble at his easy dismissal.

“Don’t mind him. He can be an ass.”

Raven jerked at the masculine voice, surprised to find herself not alone. She’d shut herself down so hard she’d inadvertently blocked some of her senses. A costly mistake. Especially since her animals liked to come out to play when she shut out the very electricity she used to keep them at bay.

“My fault.” She pushed the words past her constricted throat. From now on, she would stick to business and shove the personal nonsense the girls always spouted into the garbage where it belonged. She could deal with her gift by herself like she had all her life. Plans were in place if the worst came to pass. “I should go.”

When she went to retreat, the boy, who had to be no more than eighteen, stepped in front of the exit, barring her way. “Don’t. Please.”

The tremble in his voice drew her attention. Instincts sharpened. Then she noticed the slave collar clamped around his throat.

The delicate threads of metal, a combination of silver and gold, marked him as a slave to the shifter community. Welts beaded on his skin where the silver encircled his neck, and she couldn’t prevent her lips from curling in disgust.

She understood the aching need to belong, but she couldn’t condone the process. How could a person permit another to use them just to earn a place in the pack?

“Why do you do it?” The question slipped out without thinking of the consequences.

No retaliation came. More surprising, he didn’t appear angered at her question. Pack always held their business close to their chest. Unless you were a fur-and-claw-carrying member of the club, you didn’t need to know.

A sad look passed over the boy’s face. “The collar protects me more than if I remained rogue. Without it, I’d be bottom to everyone. If I’m accepted into a pack, they’ll protect me.”

“Unless they kill you first.” Rogues don’t last long past their prime out in the open.

The lean man who stood so proudly before her didn’t look to be the threatening monster everyone claimed about rogues, the reason for their unspoken, kill-first law for unregistered rogues.

He shrugged. “Those are the rules. Unless you’re born into the pack or challenge and kill for your place, you have to earn your spot.” An uncertain smile tipped the corner of his lips, an expression that didn’t settle easily on his face. An almost indistinguishable sheen of sweat clung to him.

The people inside were like animals in the way that if they sensed fear or weakness, they singled you out. After years of practice, she made an art out of blending into the background. The boy had no such protection.

“Maybe you’ll find me inside.” Without waiting for her response, he disappeared into the club, leaving the scent of defeat. Anxiety. And more damning, hope.

Raven debated the wisdom of leaving against all that she could gain. If the boy could face the crowd, then so could she. Five minutes, then she would yank her friends’ asses out. Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door, her fingers steady only from years of practice.

Blue and red lasers flashed through the club. Black material clung to the walls, giving the impression of space. Drapes hung around the booths, adding a false sense of intimacy. She avoided peering too closely into the shadows and gazed over the crowd.

At twenty-eight, she was older than most. The elders of the pack usually didn’t stray from the meeting rooms upstairs. It wasn’t too long ago that packs had decimated other packs for territory. Not to mention the tenuous three hundred year peace between wolves and vampires was shaky at best. Only in the last ten years, when the paranormal world became exposed, did they start doing business with one another to present a united front to the humans.

Most of the shifters she saw in the club were male. Although female shifters weren’t rare, very few pure bloods remained. Those selected few were treasured and rarely permitted to leave the protection of the den. And never alone. 

The women trolling here were mostly donors for the vampires, while others were available for a more amorous relationship with the pack members, men who could control their shift and not accidentally change during heightened emotions.

Gazes slid over her, judging, testing. She pretended not to notice the cloud of vampires in the back or the gaggle of witches at the bar, not wanting them to misunderstand and take it as an invitation for more. The shifters’ gazes swept over her like she wasn’t there. She scanned the room for her friends, noting about a third of the crowd were scantily clad slaves with a cloud of desperation hovering over more than a few of them.

The press of people ate away at her shields. She needed a few minutes to settle the energy swamping her before she dug further into the crowd. She seated herself at a far table tucked in the corner. Not wanting company, she manipulated the energy that saturated the air, pulled the darkness around herself, merging into the shadows like an old lover. A trick she learned from a vampire. Most wouldn’t see her unless they were purposely searching for her.

Once on the vinyl stool, she realized her mistake. Realized why there were so many slaves present. An auction. She’d thought they’d been abolished when paranormals gained their citizenship. Since her friends held the same attitude as she did, they wouldn’t have stayed to watch this debacle.

Any thought of lovers disappeared, replaced by concern for her friends. She needed to contact them and find out what the hell had happened. They wouldn’t have abandoned her unless there was trouble. She groped for her phone when she spotted him.

The boy she’d met outside had since lost his shirt, revealing more muscle than she would’ve expected for one so slim, though it shouldn’t have been surprising since most shifters were built sturdy. He carried a serving tray. Then he turned. Even at this distance, clearly defined marks crisscrossed his back, wounds days old.

The table under her hand groaned, plastic crunched, her fingers leaving behind impressions in the fake wood veneer. A slither of current escaped her control. The phone in the other hand gave a puff of smoke as the circuits fried. “Damn it.”

Flashes of images from the labs slammed against her mind, the wails of pain and terror, the fanatical need to escape the torture. She wouldn’t allow that to happen here.

The kid should’ve been able to shift and heal but hadn’t.

A curl of unease increased the sense of wrongness she picked up when she entered. She’d blamed it on nerves. Inhaling deeply, she couldn’t detect a threat, couldn’t see any overt danger from the crowd. She wished she could believe she saw trouble where none existed.

A commotion at the other end of the room erupted. The boy. She knew it even before she saw his face. Five women surrounded him, heckling and caressing him. He stood there, a frozen smile plastered in place, tolerating the touch. Tolerating but not enjoying.

Then he flinched. His smile became strained, the women’s laughter more wild. The boy’s eyes hardened but he kept still, enduring the obscene fondling and cruel taunts.

She scanned the crowd. A few people snickered at his discomfort, a few looked away, pity leeching the life from their eyes. But no one protested.

Then the man who had accompanied the boy stood to his full height. The muscles of her back loosened, and she eased back into her seat, unaware she’d half risen to her feet. The big man would keep him safe. But instead of rescuing the boy, the Ogre turned his back and pushed his way to the bar.

A lump grew in her throat at the unwanted attention the boy endured. Memories of similar situations from her past cut into her mind, blurring reason until fury burned along her face.

Stillness settled inside her, burying everything but the need to do something, the need to prevent the past from repeating itself. Before she knew what she was doing, she moved.

The closer she came, the more she sensed his unwillingness and his resignation. She stopped outside the circle of women. Their gazes collided. Recognition sparked, and his gaze latched on to hers.

Pleaded.

It was a mistake coming here tonight, but she couldn’t leave without knowing he’d be safe. Couldn’t stop herself from rescuing him.

“He’s mine.” She reached through the circle of women, clamped down on his wrist and pulled him to her side. He came without a word of complaint, his head lowered, a small smile on his lips that barely lasted a second. His body trembled slightly before he controlled himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A blonde in strappy, three-inch heels stepped forward, drink in hand and a determined expression on her face. A woman who always got what she wanted.

Raven wasn’t impressed. “We’re leaving.”

As she turned, herding the boy in front of her, the woman’s talons dug into her arm.

Reacting on instinct, Raven spun and thrust out her palm, slamming her hand into the blonde’s chest, releasing some of the pent-up power that swirled inside in response to her anger.

The impact lifted the woman off her feet. She sailed over the table, one heel flying. Her mouth dropped open in moue of surprise, while her drink spun and sprayed her friends.

Conversation slowed, people turned. No one touched the woman as she staggered to her feet. Raven braced herself and scanned the crowd.

No one stepped forward to detain her or the boy.

“Is there a problem?”

Tiger.

He broke through the wall of people who circled the small group. Broad shouldered, lean but roped with muscles, he easily drew attention to him and it had nothing to do with the elegant clothes or wildly untamed mane of hair. The combination should’ve looked ridiculous but only succeeded in making him appear all the more dominant.

It gave him a dangerous air. An aura of bored arrogance seeped from him, but Raven knew differently. Power thrummed beneath his skin at his annoyance for being disturbed. The beast roamed close to the surface even in his human form.