Taboo Kisses (2 page)

Chapter
Two

The clicks of Sameya’s knee-high black, dragon skinned boots hitting the pavement
were drowned out by the revelry on Bourbon Street. Gah…mortals. Loud and obnoxious.
The useless infantile creatures were a pestilence upon the earth. Since
exiting Atlantis
, she’d culled many murderers,
abusers, pedophiles
,
and rapists
from humanity’s numbers. They should give her a medal for the favor
s
she performed.

The best of her species
at fact-gathering
, she’d left her Empress in the safety of a trusted few and set out to uncover the
terrorist in their midst. Thoughts gleaned from a mystic inside Atlantis revealed
the source within worked in tangent with a mystic outside the hidden city’s realm.
She
c
ouldn’t
figure out what the non-Atlantian would gain from assassinating their Empress, not
unless he was promised entrance into Atlantis
.
Over her dead fucking body—

A sharp whistle snatched her head around
,
and her gaze connected with a brown-haired frat boy. Drunk and noisy, his stride
wobbly, and his leer detestable. “Holy gawd almighty!” he slurred
,
and she could smell his liquor-laced breath from ten feet away. “You’re the hottest
babe I ever done seen.”

Atrocious English. Imbecile. “Do you know what I am?”

“Fallen angel for fuckin’ sure.”

His buddy slapped him
o
n the chest and chortled, making a fool of himself. “Hopefully, the demon in our bed
later?”

New age
mankind was
as alien
to her
as the elusive orgasm
.
When s
he’d gone
into hiding in Atlantis over seven millennia ago, she was the stuff
mothers frightened their children with
. She’d entered a new
world where mortals believed her a myth. How could she garner respect like this?

“Fuck off.”

Moody, she would take his head off rather than ingest his soul if he were rash enough
to come after her. She kicked a bottle with her booted toe. It struck the shin of
a tourist and he went down hard, clutching his leg.

Oops.

She probably broke a bone.

Sameya halted her steps and
pondered
at the unassuming establishment located on Bourbon Street. Dirty Liquor.
The windows were boarded
up
as if the proprietor
prepared for a hurricane. The scarred door unadorned, the neon light
above the entrance
the only indication it was open for business.
Bold, red power seeped from
the
building
. T
angible evidence a
mystic
owned the pub.
Lots of mojo going on here
. Best guess
,
once inside it’d null
the magic of other paranormals, which would make it easier to manage a rowdy group,
especially if a magical creature were involved. But this enchantment was
not
strong enough to affect hers.
Hadn’t found a species yet that could micromanage her magic
, with the exception of a vampyr and none of them resided in Atlantis
.

Intel suggested
her target would be here tonight.
Itching to get back to Atlantis, she wanted to get this over with.

Tossing her hair over her shoulders, she pushed the door open and
sauntered in, rolling her hips
.
The buttery soft
,
snug
Basilisk hide
pants showcase
d
her ass. Not that her attributes were required when she hunted because she could
lure a man with just her
enchantment
, but
her appearance facilitated
the chase.

The beat of the music overpowered her hearing until she adjusted her magical volume
meter to a tolerable level. Heated
stares
skimmed her body while she made her way to the bartender. It was early, so the establishment
wasn’t as crowded as it would be later tonight. The revelry was already at a
hearty
swing
,
and the dance floor sported an impressive contingent of ladies with a few men.
A h
igh-polished
,
walnut
-
wood
bar
hosted less than a dozen patrons.

Sameya slid in-between two males and leaned across the bar. “Whiskey
. N
eat. The best you have.”

Not that she intended
to
drink her order. One sip of liquor and she’d be wasted, all magic neutralized. She
had a strict policy against
vulnerability
.

“I’m
Gabriel
.” The man on her right leaned a little closer
, so near she could discern the minty scent of his breath.

Usually her
intimidating otherworld
vibe was enough to keep the humans back, even if they failed to comprehend why
her
diminutive
stature came across
so menacing. 

N
ot
sparing
a glance in the male’s direction
, she said,
“
N
ot interested.”

“Of course you’re not
,
s
yreen
.”

The Atlantian term for her race. Sameya
’s attention
snatched about.
A slight grin
hit the corners of the fair-haired, drop-dead gorgeous man. A
mystic
.
Like her…but not similar in many other ways. Cultured, but with a more humanized flair.
Probably born in this mortal world rather than from
Atlantis
.
Some mystics had chosen to remain among the humans when they
shielded
their land
.
But she couldn’t pinpoint
his exact race.

He ran his fingertip along the rim of his glass
, lifted the goblet
,
and drained
the liquor
in one gulp
.
“What are you hunting?”

S
yn
.
The only thing she hunted.

Guarded, she tried to play it cool.
“I imagine
,
the same as you.”

“I don’t hunt.”

Elevating her eyebrows, she called him on his lie with only her expression. Dressed
like he owned half the
world
in a
charcoal gray suit and baby-blue cravat…the man definitely pursued something.
If nothing more than a willing but fast fuck.

His appearance was remarkable, handsome, with
dark-blond, spiky hair
. She was curious how many had been granted the privilege of
running
their
fingers through it during coupling.
His golden
yellow eyes
assessed
her coolly, and
they
could not be mistaken for human
. Clean shaven square jaw.
Expensive clothing stretched across b
road shoulders
,
hinted
at
power that had nothing to do with magic.
I
t was the feral presence he exuded
that suggested beneath the refined attire he
was deadly.
Could strike with the least
amount of
provocation with lethal accuracy, no hesitation and no remorse.

“Where you from, little lady?”
The bald bartender set
a glass of
whiskey in front of her.

“Far away.” Sameya two-fingered the glass and sloshed the liquor in a circular motion
, eyeing
…Gabriel
.

“Never heard your accent before
,
”
the barkeep persisted.

If
he were
lucky,
he
never
would
again
.

“I’m not interested in conversation.” She flicked her finger
for him to go away, an apparent universal
sign
everyone understood
because the
male
took the hint and moved away
.

A very long time ago t
he
mystic
race had coexisted
with
humans. Sirens had filtered the scum from society, the criminal debauchery a feast.
They’d been worshiped as gods
, welcomed into homes
,
and prayers
were
sent their way. In return,
mystics
had
received
the mortals into their Valhalla—Atlantis. T
hen
an unknown plague had nearly eradicated
mankind
. When the prayers went unanswered, the
mystics
had sunk their
heaven to escape persecution
.
They might be stronger and magically inclined, but humans could still kill them.

Swiveling in her seat, she surveyed the room. She sensed the
focus
of the male beside her, but he remained
seated
with his back to the dance floor.

Gabriel. What a unique name
, nothing she’d hear in Atlantis
. She liked it.
The way the syllables
rolled around in her head
was kind of…intriguing
.

On the dance floor, b
odies
were
grinding
together in the suggestive act of sex, which increased her awareness of the mystic
male. R
evelers drunk on liquor and pheromones
grew
more lascivious with one another
, less cautious of the company they kept
. No way would a syn
miss this easy action.

“You have me at a disadvantage, Gabriel.” She shuddered. Shit.
Nothing could’ve prepared her for the way his name sounded on her tongue
. Even though he didn’t
look at
her, she felt his attention. “What type of mystic are you?”

He chuckled. The sound vibrated against her clitoris. Odd
reaction to him
considering
n
o matter how much stimulation
she received
, she couldn’t climax with anyone except her mat
e
.

Am I growing wet?
Nah…couldn’t be.

“I’m not a mystic.” He rotated on the barstool to face her. “I’m a shifter.”

That explained
his
wild
charisma, but not her physical reaction
to him
. Sirens did not mate with lesser creatures.
In laymen terms, that mean
t
any creature not
of her race
.
They were superior, had ruled Atlantis since its inception.
Her
kind
’s preeminence
wouldn’t change because she had a small, practically non-existence twitch in her crotch.

I probably imagined the reaction anyway.

Of course, she had invented the response. Humans were gyrating sex acts
on the dance floor
. That’d be enough to—

“How did you know I’m a s
iren?” Unease crackled down her spine. No
supernatural
creature
could feel the presence of her species
. They weren’t known as reapers
without
reason
, so how had the shifter sniffed her out?

He shrugged. Such a normal affectation, she would’ve thought it too commonplace for
him to execute.

She spied her target enter
ing
the establishment and
watched as
he took
a seat across the room.
“What do you want?”

“You.”

A weird throbbing started between her thighs. Unnerved by the physical response she
couldn’t deny, she tilted her l
ips in a forced smile. “Too bad
I’m not available.
”