Kate Daniels 01 - Magic Bites

lupine sentries, the stable master, and me. The sentries and the stable master looked decidedly uncomfortable. Their eyes still watered from the wolfsbane and the left sentry had a full-blown allergic reaction, complete with red rash and a running nose he probably desperately wanted to wipe. If it wasn’t for Curran, he might have made a mad dash for the handkerchief, but the Beast Lord’s presence kept him rooted at attention, and so he just stood there, both faucets dripping.
    Curran nodded calmly, feigning understanding. He was too composed for my liking. In his place I would’ve exploded. I flexed my wrist lightly, feeling the edge of the leather bracer full of silver needles rub against my skin. Mahon had politely requested to hold Slayer for me while Curran and I had our little talk. Just as well. It’s not like I could kill Curran now. Should. It’s not like I should kill Curran now. I could always try. Later.
    The Beast Lord crossed his arms on his chest. His face looked placid. Calm before the storm . . .
    The jaguar at my feet tensed and tried to look smaller. Nick needed a bit of a distraction while he rode like a bat out of hell on the horse commandeered from the Pack stables. I’d provided that distraction by leading Jim and his posse of pissy shapechangers on a merry chase through the countryside.
    “Just so we’re clear,” Curran said. “You did understand that I didn’t wish you or the Crusader to leave Keep?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s what I thought,” Curran said.
    He grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. My feet felt no floor. His fingers crushed my neck.
    I clasped the hand that held me and jammed a long silver needle into his palmar nerve between the index finger and thumb. Curran’s fingers trembled. His hand opened releasing me. I slid to the floor, dropped, and swiped at his legs. He fell. I rolled away and came to my feet. On the opposite side of the room Curran rose to a half crouch, his eyes burning gold.
    The whole thing took maybe two seconds. The stunned audience never got a chance to react.
    Curran reached for the needle, pulled it out, and dropped it to the floor, never taking his eyes off me.
    “It’s okay,” I told him. “I have more.”
    He lunged from a half crouch into a spectacular pounce. I dashed forward, aiming to come under him and flick the needle into his stomach. And we both crashed into Mahon.
    “No!” the Bear growled.
    I bounced off his leg and sat onto the floor, stupidly blinking. Mahon grabbed Curran by his shoulders and struggled to keep him still. Huge muscles bulged on his shoulders and arms, splitting the seams of his sleeves.
    “Not now,” Mahon grunted. His reasonable voice had no effect. Curran locked his hands on Mahon’s arms. I could see the beginnings of a judo style hold there, but Curran did not follow through. Instead it degenerated into a brute contest of strength. Mahon’s face went purple with effort. His feet slid.
    I got up. Mahon’s arms trembled, but Curran’s face had gone pale from the strain. The Bear against the Lion. The room was so thick with testosterone, you could cut it with a knife. I looked at the sentries.
    “You and Jim might want to leave,” I told them.
    The younger lycanthrope stirred. “We don’t take orders from . . .”
    The older male cut him off. “Come.”
    They filed out the door, taking the jaguar with them.
    I went to the locked men and very gently took Curran’s right wrist and tugged on it. “Let go, Curran. Please, let go. Come on. You are mad at me, not at him. Let go.”
    Slowly the tension drained from his face. The gold fire ebbed. His fingers relaxed and the two men broke off.
    Mahon puffed like an exhausted plow horse. “You are bad for my blood pressure,” he said to me.
    I shrugged and jerked my head in Curran’s direction. “I’m even worse for his.”
    “You left,” Curran said. “You knew how fucking important it was and you still left.”
    “Nick knows how to kill him. He needs a weapon and you wouldn’t let him out,” I said.
    “And if the upir had caught you,” Mahon said softly. “What would you have done then?”
    I took a sphere Nick had given me from my pocket and showed them. The size of a walnut, it was metallic and small enough to perfectly fit into the palm of my hand. I squeezed the sides gently and three spikes popped from the sphere, moist with liquid.
    “Cyanide,” I explained.
    “You can’t kill him with that.” Curran