Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

on.”
    I laughed. “Cloak or no cloak?”
    “Definitely cloak,” he said.
    I tried the cloak on in front of the mirror.
    Curran came up behind me and nuzzled my neck.
    “Is that your gun or are you just happy to see me?”
    “Mhm, a challenge.” He nipped the skin on the back of my neck, sending electric aftershocks down through me. Some men got excited by white lace and a translucent negligee. My love muffin got excited by a woman dressed to murder. There was probably something deeply twisted about that. Lucky for me, negligees were never my thing.
    He kissed me again. “You’re finally getting the hang of this whole badass thing.”
    “I was always badass.”
    “No, you thought you were badass and talked a lot of crap.” He wrapped his arms around me.
    Aha. “Let me go.”
    “You have time.” He kissed my neck again. Every nerve in my body came to attention.
    “No, I don’t. I have people waiting.” I pulled free from him and kissed him back. He pulled me close, locking me within his arms.
Mhm, Curran.
I really didn’t want to leave.
    “Come on.”
    “No. Have to go.”
    “It won’t take long.”
    “Who would that be fun for, exactly? Your seducing techniques need work.” I untangled myself and escaped, before he thought of something else to say to change my mind.
    It took me ten minutes to stop by the medical ward.
    Roderick’s collar has faded to lemon yellow. The skin around it had turned bright red, inflamed. It hurt just to look at it. I crouched by him. “How are you doing?”
    “I’m okay, thank you.”
    “Does it hurt to eat?”
    “A little,” he said.
    “I’m going to see someone today to figure out how to take that thing off.”
    He just looked at me with his big eyes. Deep down, he must’ve been scared. His sister had died. His parents were gone. But he held it all inside and he wasn’t about to let me in.
    Before I left, Doolittle drew me aside. His face was bleak. “You must hurry.”
    “I’ll do my best,” I told him.
    When I walked into the morning light, ten Pack vehicles waited for me. The crews of the vehicles stood in front of them wearing identical gray. Jim stood to the side, surveying the troops. I approached him.
    “Satisfied, Consort?”
    “How long are you going to be pissed off?” I asked him. We both kept our voices low.
    He stared straight ahead.
    “Jim, we had a verbal disagreement. I was an ass, but you withheld information. The way you’re acting, you’d think I got some guys to jump you and work you over until you woke up with bites on your legs and bruises all over your body.”
    “It’s different now, because we’re both Pack. I’ve told you I was sorry about that. Are you going to keep dragging it out every time?”
    “It was a shitty thing to do.”
    He locked his teeth, making his jaw muscles bulge.
    I sighed and started toward the cars. “Suit yourself.”
    “I always do,” he called out.
    I turned around and flipped him off.
    He glared at me.
    I kept walking.
    “Kate!” he called out.
    I turned.
    “Eduardo is your second. You need to talk to him. He wants you to practice something.”
    I nodded.
    “Kate!”
    I turned around.
    Jim approached me. “Do you need me to watch your back for this Guild thing?”
    “I got it. Thanks,” I said.
    “Anytime.”
    I went in search of Eduardo. Jim was an ornery bastard, buthe did have my back. At least he wasn’t mad anymore. I would probably have to make a peace offering all the same. The werejaguars were difficult creatures.
    I’d have to get Dali to help me pick a gift. That way there would be no misunderstandings.
    The Mercenary Guild made its headquarters in a converted Sheraton Hotel on the edge of Buckhead. In another life the hotel, built as a hollow tower, had a solid glass front, complete with a rotating glass door. Now massive steel gates marked the entrance. As our procession rolled up to the hotel, I could see a few mercs milling about and smoking. Most of the Guild personnel were probably inside already. Perfect.
    Next to me, Eduardo leaned forward in the Jeep’s driver seat. A werebuffalo from Clan Heavy, he was over six feet tall and layered with thick muscle. His hair fell down his back in a black mane. His square chin and deep-set eyes said that he would rather die than back down. That impression was one hundred percent correct. I had a problem with a part of his plan and argued with him about it until I turned blue in the face, but he wouldn’t budge, which