Free King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel by Juliana Stone

flush in her cheeks darkened even more.
    “What I meant was that most guys would be all over a woman like that.”
    Azaiel leaned closer, his elbows on the table. “What kind of woman is she?” He slid a glance sideways, vaguely disgusted by the provocative display as the woman in question licked her lips and smiled at him.
    Rowan’s eyes were on the woman. “She’s obviously the kind of woman who doesn’t care that you’re with someone. She wants you and wants you to know it.” Her blue eyes settled back onto him. “Most men would follow her up on her offer, or at the very least be somewhat flattered.”
    “There you have it,” he said softly, enjoying himself.
    “Excuse me?” Her arched brows furled, and once more, his gaze was drawn to her mouth.
    “I’m not most men.”
    They stared at each other for a long time. Or at least it seemed that way, but as with everything of late, things were about to get dicey.
    “I’ll give you ten seconds to get your ass out of my bar and take your new boy toy with you.” The unmistakable click of a gun sounded, and they both looked up at a small, blond, pixie of a woman. That she’d managed to sneak up on them without either Rowan’s or Azaiel’s notice said something.
    Azaiel just wasn’t exactly sure what that something was.
    She wore faded jeans that were so tattered they looked as if they’d been dragged behind his bike—all the way from Salem. A tight, bright pink tank top—with MOFO emblazoned across her chest—showed off trim, muscular arms that were covered in tattoos, or, on closer look, runes of some sort. Her short, spiky, platinum hair topped a face that was almost elfin in feature, wholly feminine, with large expressive eyes and a generous mouth free of gloss.
    The look in the woman’s clear blue gaze, however, was anything but friendly. She was pissed as hell and aimed the gun in her hands directly between Azaiel’s eyes.
    “Hannah.” Rowan stood, her face pale and lips tight.
    So this was the cousin. Another surprise. And it seemed to him, Rowan and Hannah hadn’t parted on good terms.
    “Don’t push me, Rowan.” Hannah moved closer. “You know I won’t hesitate to shoot.”
    “For Christ sake, Hannah. It was six years ago. Are you still mad?” Rowan made a disgusted sound. “ How can you still be mad?”
    Hannah cocked the gun in answer and squared her shoulders. A loud gasp echoed in the bar, and Azaiel realized the band had stopped, and all eyes were on them.
    “The bullets this baby is packing are special if you know what I mean, so if Mr. Blond God means anything to you, you’ll convince him to leave.” Her mouth thinned. “Now.”
    Neither Rowan nor Hannah was focused his way, and that was fine—the gun was the only thing paying attention to him. Azaiel knew a bullet wouldn’t kill him—special or otherwise—it would just hurt like hell. He settled back into his chair, long legs stretched out casually as he gazed up at the two women.
    This was going to be good.

Chapter 7
    R owan stared at her cousin and fought to keep some sort of control. Energy burned inside her chest and gathered there, growing in strength with each tortured breath she drew. She needed to get a handle on her emotions, or the damn gun was going to be the least of her problems.
    She was too rusty to control her magick, and there were too many innocents in the bar. Rowan took a deep breath and stepped back though she let a flicker of power light her eyes crimson.
    It was enough to let Hannah know she wasn’t going down without a fight, and though the cousins were both from the same bloodline—the James witches—Hannah’s magick wasn’t anything like the monster that Rowan commanded.
    She eyed her cousin. How dare Hannah stand in front of her, a gun pointed at Azaiel, while the world as they knew it was gone. Could she not feel the empty space left by Rowan’s grandmother?
    Mallick had flexed his muscles with deadly consequences, and Hannah had done