Free Raven Mask by Winter Pennington

gaze.
    “Don’t,” I said.
    Her smile was genuine, but awkward, as if she was trying not to but couldn’t help herself. “I do not expect you to befriend her. I think you have gained some of her respect with your little stunt in the car. You caught her off guard and showed her she has underestimated you.”
    “She keeps pushing my buttons. It’s really annoying. If you’re asking me to try to control my anger, to not start a fight with her, I’ll try, but I want to know why.”
    Lenorre put a hand on the brick wall behind me. “Because she is my friend.”
    “Wait. That’s not fair. You can’t pull the friend card on me.” I tried to glare at her and knew I failed. The smell of her skin so close was intoxicating.
    “Just as Rupert is your friend, Zaphara is mine.” She leaned in until I could feel her body scant inches from my own.
    “I hate it when you do that,” I mumbled.
    “Do what?”
    “Distract me while you drive home your point. It’s not fair.”
    Her lips were against my brow. “Isn’t it?”
    She took a step back and I reached out to stop her, burying my hand in her thick curls. I pulled her mouth to mine. “If you’re trying to distract me, distract me properly.”
    Her tongue traced my lips before she pressed into the kiss.
    “Better?”
    I cupped her face, pulling her back toward me. “Not yet,” I mumbled, but I didn’t kiss her. I inhaled her scent. Our scents mingled like a wintery forest. Gently, I used my cupped hands to tilt her head. I pressed my mouth against her brow and stepped out from between the wall and her body.
    “Now we’re even.”
    The onyx crests of Lenorre’s eyelashes rose. That otherworldly silver light made my pulse race, made my body tighten. She went entirely still, predatorily still…and then…her laughter filled the night like something sweet and touchable.
    “What have I gotten myself into with you?”
    “I should be asking myself the same thing.”
    She reached into her blouse pocket, holding out a square of black material. I took it from her, realizing it was a handkerchief.
    “What?”
    “Your face.” She sounded amused.
    It took me a moment to realize I was wearing most of her lipstick. I set about using the handkerchief to wipe it off.
    “Come here,” I said. She did what I asked and I wiped the faint imprint of my lips off her brow.
    “You win.”
    “I win?” she asked.
    “For now, I’ll try to play nice with Zaphara. Though I’m not happy with you for not telling me what she is. Clearly, she isn’t human. She doesn’t seem to be a vampire and she sure as hell isn’t a wolf. But I’ll wait, if you trust her so much.”
    To that, she was silent.
    “Does my face still look like a crime scene?”
    “No.” She opened the door.
----

Chapter Eleven
    We met in the same room Lenorre had escorted me to when I first met her. The room was upstairs, past the dining area, in a shadowed corner of the club. I followed Lenorre as the throng of vampires parted before us. The candles in the room had been lit and cast flickering shadows along the walls. Lenorre took a seat on the couch and I followed. Zaphara stood next to it, arms crossed, watching each vampire enter the room with a cautious gaze. Although she was likely an occasional blood donor, she played another role in Lenorre’s life. Zaphara was a bodyguard. But what the hell was she hiding under the trench coat?
    “My lady.” The vampire who had spoken moved to the middle of the room. His long brown hair fell around his shoulders like a sandy waterfall. He went to one knee before Lenorre, bowing his head. “You requested our presence.”
    Like most of the other vampires in the room, he was incredibly pale. My skin was almost as light as the vampires’, but human and lycanthrope skin doesn’t take on that luminous paleness.
    “Futhark,” Lenorre said, “you may stand.”
    The vampire rose. Futhark? Was that his name? I wasn’t oblivious to the Norse path. In fact, I’d