Morrigan's Cross (Circle Trilogy 1)

She glanced around, gauging the situation. The place was stacked with people on every level. The music was a throb, heavy on the bass with the female singer purring out the lyrics in a sensual and feline voice.

Very public, very active, Glenna decided with a lot of chrome and blue lighting slicking class over sex. What could he possibly do to her under the circumstances?

“I’m looking for someone.” Conversation, she told herself. Keep it conversational and friendly. “I thought you were him. The light in here isn’t the best, but you look enough alike to be brothers. It’s very important I find him.”

“What’s his name? Maybe I can help you.”

“I don’t know his name.” And the fact that she didn’t made her feel foolish. “And okay, I know how that sounds. But I was told he was here. I think he’s in trouble. If you’d just—” She started to shove at his hand, found it hard as stone.

What could he do to her in these circumstances? she thought again. Almost any damn thing. With the first fresh flicker of panic tickling her throat, she closed her eyes and reached for power.

His hand flinched on her arm, then his grip tightened. “So, you’re a real one,” he murmured, and turned those eyes—as steely as his grip—on her. “I think we’ll take this upstairs.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Something akin to the fear she’d felt on the subway worked its way into her. “That was low wattage. Believe me, you don’t want me to up the amps.”

“Believe me.” And his voice was silky. “You don’t want to piss me off.”

He pulled her behind the curve of open, spiral stairs. She planted her feet, prepared to defend herself by any and all means at her disposal. She brought the four-inch spike of her heel down on his instep, slammed a back-fist into his jaw. Rather than wasting her breath on a scream, she began an incantation.

Her breath whooshed out when he lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing. Her only satisfaction came from the fact that in thirty seconds, when she finished the spell, he’d be flat on his ass.

That didn’t stop her from fighting. She reared back, elbows and feet, and sucked in a breath to add a scream after all.

And the doors on what she saw was a private elevator whisked open.

There he was, flesh and blood. And so like the man currently heaving her over his shoulder she decided she could hate him, too.

“Put me down, you son of a bitch, or I’ll turn this place into a moon crater.”

When the doors of the transportation box opened, Hoyt was assaulted with noise and smells and lights. They all slammed into his system, stunning his

senses. He saw through dazzled eyes, his brother with his arms full of struggling woman.

His woman, he realized with yet another jolt. The witch from his dream was half-naked and using language he’d rarely heard even in the seediest public house.

“Is this how you pay someone back for helping you?” She shoved at the curtain of her hair and aimed those sharp green eyes at him. She shifted them, scanned them up and down King, snarled.

“Come on then,” she demanded. “I can take all three of you.”

As she was currently over Cian’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Hoyt wasn’t certain how she intended to see the threat through. But witches were tricky.

“You’re real then,” he stated softly. “Did you follow me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

Cian shifted her, effortlessly. “Yours?” he said to Hoyt.

“I couldn’t say.”

“Deal with it.” Cian dropped Glenna back on her feet, caught the fist aimed at his face just before it connected. “Do your business,” he told her. “Quietly. Then take off. Keep a lid on the magic. Both of you. King.”

He walked off. After a grin and a shrug, King trailed after him.

Glenna smoothed down her dress, shook back her hair. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“My ribs still pain me a little, but I’m largely healed. Thank you for your help.”

She stared at him, then huffed out a breath. “Here’s how this is going to work. We’re going to sit down, you’re going to buy me a drink. I need one.”