"What's wrong?" he asked, pivoting his head on a scowl to scan the area behind the bar, where she'd been looking just before she grabbed him away. His gaze lit on a pair of males - one of them unmistakably Breed, with long blond hair pulled back in a braided leather tie, accentuating cheekbones that would have looked more in place on a female, if not for the killer coldness of his pale-blue eyes. He stood with massive arms crossed over his chest, listening to the other male who faced him, his back to Mira and Kellan.
"That's Syn," she said, nodding toward the Breed giant. "He's one of the newer fighters. That human he's talking to?" Her chin lifted, gesturing at the equally tall but less bulky man who was dressed in head-to-toe black leather that sported gleaming buckles and bristling spikes. His silver-white hair was shorn in a smooth wedge that rode his skull like a halo. Not that there was anything remotely angelic about him. "That's Cassian, the owner of this place. We shouldn't let either of them see us in here."
Neither one of the men looked happy. Nor did they break the focus of their intense conversation as Mira led Kellan to a shadowed back stairwell. They descended the flight of steps into what appeared to be the bowels of the old church. At the bottom, they emerged into a basementlike walkway illuminated by sparsely placed dim bulbs, aged brick walls tunneling ahead of them and foot-worn stone at their feet.
"This was once used as a crypt," Mira informed him. "Now the fighters' private dressing rooms are down here, along with the arena."
Kellan had never been near one of the illegal cage-fighting clubs, and he wasn't enthused to realize how familiar Mira had become with them. A surge of protectiveness rose up in him as he watched her h*ps sway with each quiet stride of her combat boots on the stone floor. He didn't want her in the vicinity of dangerous males, let alone dangerous Breed males who made their names and fortunes by tearing one another to shreds for the amusement of violence-thirsty humans willing to pay to watch the spectacle.
"Hey." He snagged Mira's hand and drew her to a halt. Pulled her closer to him than was necessary, if only to feel her heat radiating toward him in the dank coolness of the corridor. "Where the hell are we going?"
"To see Rune."
Now Kellan bristled. He knew that name, knew it belonged to a denizen of Boston's underground, someone feared even by the city's most dangerous criminal circuit. More specifically, Rune was a brutal Breed fighter reputed to have never lost a match. It was a well-known fact that some of his opponents had forfeited their lives to him in the cage.
"Fuck no. You're not going anywhere near that guy." It was a command, spurred by pure masculine possessiveness, and Kellan couldn't bite it back. No more than he could keep his hands from going even tighter where he now held on to Mira.
The answering curve of her lips seemed equal parts pleased and annoyed. "I'm a big girl, Kellan. I can handle myself. We need intel, and Rune might have some." She came up on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "But I kind of like seeing you all growly and protective."
She didn't give him a chance to argue, which he damn well would have. Pivoting away, she resumed her trek down the corridor and paused in front of a battered, unmarked door. She dropped her fist on it a couple of times, the hard raps echoing like gunfire in the narrow passageway.
"Fuck off." A terse, snarled reply.
Mira knocked again, glancing to Kellan as he took his place beside her, battle instincts at the ready.
"Holy bleeding Christ." The voice was deep, all gravel. A more menacing snarl from the other side of the door, before heavy footsteps approached at an impatient gait. The old door squealed on its hinges as it was forcefully yanked open. Then roughly six-and-a-half-feet, three-hundred-plus pounds of bare-chested, pissed-off vampire stood in front of them. "What part of 'fuck off' do you not f**king comprehend?"
"I need information, Rune. It's important," Mira replied, speaking over the low growl that had crept up Kellan's throat. His response was automatic, an alpha reaction to the potential threat this other deadly male presented to the Breedmate standing in front of them.
My Breedmate, Kellan's every instinct declared.
He faced off against the dark-haired fighter, chin lowered, eyes fixed on him in silent warning.
But Rune didn't appear to be in the mind to test him. His midnight blue eyes slid only briefly from Mira to Kellan, and when he spoke, his tone was gruff, uninterested. "Not in the business of providing information or anything else to anyone. Least of all the Order." He eased off, started to close the door.
Mira's palm went flat against the scarred wood panel before Kellan could pull her back. "If you can help me," she ventured, unfazed by the fighter's curt dismissal, "I promise I'll see that you're compensated."
Sparks leapt into the darkness of his narrowed gaze, and the gravel of the fighter's voice took on sharp edges. The tangle of dermaglyphs on his chest, which had been infused with dark color when he first appeared in the doorway, now churned with menace. "Do I strike you as the kind of man who can be bought - at any price?"
"The lady is asking for your help," Kellan interjected, subtly stepping in to put himself between the partially open door and Mira, now standing behind his shoulder. "You going to give it to her or not?"
"Lady," Rune mused, uttering the word like he wanted to chuckle. "I've seen the way she wields those daggers of hers. She may be female, but she's no lady. Who the f**k are you?"
Kellan felt his own eyes light with flecks of rising amber, his pupils thinning to catlike slits as his temper spiked. "Someone prepared to carve your larynx out of your throat if you lift one finger against her."