Chapter Thirty-Two
Jake’s eyes searched her face for a moment as if he could see what she was seeing. His expression was unreadable. Obviously the alcohol was having an effect on her.
But Jake went on. “Most medicine men and women simply use herbs the way herbalists do today. But a few were and are what you and I now know of as real mages.”
Mage was the general term used for anyone with an inherent ability to use some form of magic, whether it was the ability to see into the future, to heal wounds, or cast spells.
“White Wolf, like his father before him, had this very real magic in his veins. But it was rooted in the spirit of our tribe. He was the clan’s ‘dreamer,’ a tribal visionary who had the ability to enter people’s sleep and study their dreams.” He smiled. “When a member of our clan dreamed of a white wolf, he or she knew that my father had been there to guide them and watch over them.”
Angel felt a weird sensation go through her. “He’s dead now?”
Jake nodded. “Yes.”
“Did… he pass this magic on to you?”
“No,” Jake said. “He did pass on his magic, but mine is a different kind.”
“What kind?”
“Well, you noticed the pendant, for instance.” He pulled it over his head and held it up between them. Instinctively, Angel held out her hand, and he placed it in her palm. It was warm, very warm. Was it just his body heat that had warmed it? It felt comforting in her hand, like it wanted to stay with her.
Jake continued. “It’s been enchanted, I guess warded if you will, to keep dark spirits away. This is how my father would have seen it,” he laughed. “But I’ve found that what it translates to in practice is that it keeps away some warlocks, weaker demons, angry Anime, Pan shadows, and pretty much all unseelie fae as long as they mean you some kind of harm.”
“So you have the ability to enchant objects,” she mused, turning the claw over between her fingers. That was a valuable ability. “Can you enchant them to heal?”
He smiled a knowing smile and shook his head. “No. I’m afraid you’re still as rare as ever, Angel.”
Angel blushed furiously. She handed the pendant back to him and watched his muscles flex as he draped it back over his head and tucked it under his shirt.
“My abilities are limited,” he said. “I can affect objects – opening locks, manipulating GPS systems to zero in on marks, enchanting them to hold certain effects, changing the channel on the iPod from across the room,” he grinned, “and that’s about it. But it helps with the job.”
She nodded. Jake was the tracker for the Monsters clan. He was very, very good. He could find anyone, anywhere. In fact, watching him work had been a little unsettling. She’d wondered if she would have been able to shake him if the need ever arose. He could track a mark through transports, even. It was kind of insane. And now Angel had an inkling how he did it. Magic.
“You’d better finish your drink before it gets cold,” he told her softly.
Angel glanced up. Jake’s jade eyes had darkened to emerald. They were starkly vivid in his tanned face, making him appear inhuman. More heat flushed Angel’s chest and neck. She grabbed her mug and began downing the liquid rapidly.
She finished the whole thing off, and was seriously beginning to enjoy the peace it infused her with – until she looked up to find several women nearby openly staring at Jake. The two women were probably in their twenties and clearly on a lunch break from a day at the office. They were dressed for work, but in that sexy manner she would never have pulled off in a million life times.
They were eyeing Jake like a cool drink of water in an endless desert. Her gaze hardened. Back off, she thought, an uncomfortable heat flooding her veins. The women glanced over at her and paled a little, turning away at the same time.
Angel frowned as she realized what she’d done. She was pretty sure she’d never done that before in her entire life. She’d uttered the mental command like a spell! She’d actually forced a measure of her precious magic into it!
She felt devastated. Not only had she wasted magic, Angel wasn’t the kind to lay claim to someone possessively; who was she to do so? She was an orphan mutt from the wrong side of the tracks who knew probably three designer names and didn’t own a single dress or pair of heels. The women she’d just eyed were dressed in pencil skirts and silk blouses, all the right curves hugged in all the right ways by clothing that cost more than a month’s worth of rent. In San Francisco, that was saying something.
What the hell is wrong with me? She looked down at the table top, noticed her license was still there, and used it as an excuse to do something with her hands. She grabbed it and slid it back into the pocket of her jacket. When she glanced back up at Crow, she found he was still watching her as steadily as always, but now a slightly amused expression played on his painfully handsome face. It was like he’d read her thoughts or something.
To fill the silence and divert his attention she asked, “So… why is your motorcycle club called Monsters?”
She’d always wondered that actually; no one knew the answer. They were the only warden clan that hadn’t taken a celestial name, but the Monsters MC history was shrouded in mystery, made absolutely impenetrable by layer upon layer of cover-up magic. Positively no information on any of them existed at all. None.
Research on the clan was made even more difficult by the fact that they were always moving, never staying in one city for more than a few months to half a year. At this point, pretty much everyone considered it a lost cause to try to dig anything up on them. Besides, they did their jobs and never caused any problems, so no one had reason to.
Crow’s expression changed, the amusement fading from his eyes and lips to be replaced with something less identifiable. Angel squirmed in her seat across from him when he rose off the back of the bench seat to lean forward, placing his elbows on the table to casually lace his fingers together. He leveled an intense gaze on her, his eyes sparking emeralds.
Oh crap! Angel thought, her heart racing. I’m already buzzed or something to ask that question. I’ve completely lost my head. Information on the Monsters clan was clearly not up for discussion, or they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble they had to erase it so well. So why the hell was she digging?
She wasn’t thinking clearly tonight. She was too relaxed in Jake’s presence, too… open. It wasn’t like her. All of her walls were crumbling. She needed to pull herself together.
“S-sorry,” she stammered quickly. “I didn’t mean to –”
“Maybe we’re all monsters,” he said calmly.
Angel froze, her lips parted, her breath stalled in her lungs.
There was no intonation, no change in his expression. Absolutely nothing he did gave anything away at all. Was he joking? She seriously couldn’t tell.
But his gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips, and she watched his pupils dilate… and suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about the name of his clan any longer. She was thinking about the body under that shirt of his, the tattoo on his back, the six pack, and the damn Adonis belt V-shaped section of muscle it was hiding. She was thinking about the way his powerful presence took up most of the seat across from her, along with the attention of every female in the restaurant.
And she was thinking that she wanted some. Badly.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jake said.