Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian 9)

"Ouch," I said, rubbing my nose as I stepped back and looked up. And up. Christ, he had to be at least six and a half feet tall.

His skin, like that of many of the wolves in the room, was dark, and his face was flat and broad of nose. His mouth was small and pinched looking, and his eyes ...

Something within me shivered.

His eyes were brown, but there was little warmth in them, little humanity.

"Little lady, you just spilled my drink."

"Sorry." Then I glanced at his hands and realized he wasn't even holding a glass. My gaze shot up to his again. There was something snakelike about his smile. "Would you mind moving out of my way?"

There were several men behind him, watching the two of us and smiling in anticipation. I had a feeling that this - whatever this was - was a game they'd played often.

"I'm afraid I can't move until I get a kiss in replacement for my drink." He reached for my waist, but I slapped his hand away.

Something flickered in his eyes. He didn't like being rejected. Well, tough.

"Move," I said. "Or I will make you move."

He laughed and glanced over his shoulder. "Hear that? You think I should be scared?"

"Please," I said, with the barest hint of a growl running through my voice. "Just move."

He grabbed me, moving so fast I didn't have time to stop him, and dragged me against his body. He smelled of old sweat and rotting grass. Not a pleasant combination.

"Kiss me," he said, as the men behind him began to egg him on, "and then you can go. Just one little kiss."

"Over my dead body."

"It would be my pleasure," he whispered, and swooped.

I shifted my face so that the kiss landed on my cheek rather than my lips then reached back, grabbing his fingers and yanking them backward as hard as I could. Bone snapped and he hissed in pain. But pleasure flicked through his eyes and his excitement surged around me, thick and hungry.

He got off on pain. Great.

So I gave him something else to get happy about, and kneed him in the nuts as hard as I could. And apparently I was stronger than I knew, because he went down like a ton of bricks. His friends - charmers that they were -

jumped out of the way rather than trying to help him.

"I did ask you nicely to move," I said, then looked up as the crowd parted and footsteps approached, to meet the gaze of an unhappy-looking Harris. The man obviously had a nose for trouble.

He looked from me to the man-mountain writhing on the floor, and I swear a slight smile touched his lips. But when his gaze met mine again, his expression was all dour and businesslike.

"I guess I should have also warned you to stay out of trouble," he said, voice heavy.

I held up my hands. "Hey, he grabbed me and wouldn't let go, even though I did ask nicely."

He glanced down at the man unconscious on the floor, then motioned to the two men who'd let their friend fall.

"Get him out of here."

They scrambled to obey, dragging their unconscious friend out the door. It was interesting to note that no one seemed too worried about the fact that he'd been felled by a stranger.

Harris's gaze came back to me. There was little emotion to be seen in the blue of his eyes, and once again it reminded me of someone else. I wished I could remember who.

"I think you'd better come with me." His gravelly voice was firm, and it was obvious he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Of course, part of me wanted to say just that, but it wasn't exactly the wisest course of action when I had no idea what the hell was going on. So I blew out a frustrated breath and followed him out of the bar. At least I didn't have to fight my way through - the crowd parted for Harris as easily as the sea for Moses.