I might not have wolf-keen olfactory senses, but the reek hit me like a ton of bricks the instant we walked through the door of Rainbow’s End: a deep, rich, redolent funk of sex. And not shampooed, deodorized, minty-fresh-mouthwash-and-clean-sheets sex, but down-and-dirty, no-holds-barred nastiness.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside the bar. As soon as they did, I saw the reason for the odor.
There was an orgy under way.
I couldn’t make out exactly what was going on because it registered as a sea of sweat-glistening, writhing flesh, entangled limbs, and heaving parts. I’m not talking about a little hanky-panky on the dance floor. I’m talking about a full-blown orgy. The majority of Rainbow’s End’s clientele were gay men, but there were knots of women here and there, and what appeared to be a few indiscriminate free agents of either gender eager to avail themselves of whatever was closest at hand. Beneath the pounding bass beat making the speakers tremble, there was a symphony of moans and groans of pleasure, resonant and weirdly melodic, like some kind of universal mantra to sexuality.
“Holy crap!” I’m pretty sure the words came out of my mouth, although I could barely hear them beneath the techno music and the om-mani-fuckme-hum.
Cody tapped my shoulder and nodded toward the dance floor, which seemed to be the orgy’s epicenter. His teeth were clenched so hard I could see the muscles along his jaw twitch. That should have warned me.
We got halfway there before the second wave hit us. Not the funk, but the effect of the pheromones.
Cody and I exchanged a glance. There was a hectic sheen in his eyes. I’m pretty sure there was in mine, too. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, shoving me against the edge of the bar.
My last conscious thought was, “Damn, I wish this had happened a month ago.” And then there was no thinking, just a deep, primordial desire to copulate, to be a part of the whole wet, slippery, thrusting celebration. Cody’s mouth covered mine, his urgent tongue pushing past my lips. His hands dropped to my hips, jerking me against him.
My tail shivered with pleasure. I wrapped my legs around his waist and slid my hands up his arms, lacing them behind his neck and pulling his head down. There was definitely too much fabric in the way, not to mention his utility belt.
Not good. I wanted bare skin. I wanted more. My fingertips trailed over the bronze stubble of his cheeks, finding the collar of his dark blue uniform shirt. I yanked it open with strength that would have surprised me if I’d been capable of rational thought, buttons flying. Cody reached between us to unbuckle his utility belt, letting it fall before pulling me against him again.
Yeah, better; much better. I could feel his erection straining beneath his trousers, pressed hard against my core. My hips thrust involuntarily as I ground against him. Cody was kissing me again, and I found myself moaning into his mouth. Om-mani-fuckme-hum, baby. He pushed up my tank top, hands gliding over my skin, fondling my breasts with an eager roughness that made me arch my back. . . .
Against my waist, I felt a rill of pure cold so intense it jolted me into awareness. Cody made a strangled sound deep in my mouth, jerking away from me.
“Shit!” he said fervently. There was a scorched-looking patch of skin on his bare torso, faint wisps of frost rising from it.
Dauda-dagr. I dropped my hand to its hilt, the hilt of the dagger no one but one of Hel’s agents could touch with impunity. Its coolness was bracing, further clearing my thoughts.
Cody, on the other hand, was beginning to look glassy-eyed again. He shook his head and started back toward me.
“Whoa! Down, boy.” I drew dauda-dagr and held it between us, surreptitiously tugging my tank top down over my exposed breasts. “Cody!” I shouted over the music. “Take my hand. Just be careful not to touch the dagger.”
With a shudder, he reached for the dagger’s hilt, wrapping his fingers around mine. The glaze lifted again. “Daise? What the hell’s going on?”
“I wish I knew.” My wits more or less functioning, I glanced around the bar.
Whatever was going on, it definitely centered around the dance floor, and around one guy in particular. Tall, well built, strongly etched features, a pointed tangle of beard, a grin plastered to his face,