Read Online Hidden Dragons by Emma Holly - Free Book Online Page B

and flipped across the platform. The male was amazing. I could hardly breathe watching him. Of course it was sad when the female passed. She was so beautiful. I’d never seen one of them up close before.”
    “Sheesh,” Cass muttered, switching off the program. One of them. Why did non-fae have to be so weird about purebloods? She could tell the woman wasn’t thinking of what she’d seen as having happened to real people.
    ~
    WQSN’s interview with the waitress was all over the radio in Rick’s car. This didn’t make him happy. True, he hadn’t told the cop who questioned the witness to warn her off blabbing to the press, nor would a warning necessarily have stopped her. Knowing this meant he couldn’t chew out Compton or even himself too much.
    He simply hated when homicides became public entertainment. The end of a person’s life was due more respect.
    When the radio announcer promised more details coming up, Rick clicked the program off. The tease was a lie at least. No one had anything of substance to divulge—including him, sadly. Anyway, it wasn’t worth losing his cool over.
    He had other reasons for doing that.
    A search for Cassia Maycee on his home computer had yielded a long article on the death of her grandmother. For a human, Patricia Maycee was quite the luminary. Businesswoman. Sponsor of charities and the arts. Interestingly, only Cass was mentioned as a “survived by.” Rick was under the impression Patricia’s daughter was alive.
    He could have been wrong. After Cass left Resurrection, he’d sworn off glomming onto every story about the Maycees he came across. What would have been the point? She’d been beyond his reach when she lived in the same city.
    She’s still beyond it , he told himself. No matter what that faerie had or hadn’t been telling him.
    Nervous, he tapped the wheel with restless fingers as he turned into the public parking beneath Resurrection’s main Maycee’s. The faerie’s knuckle-dusters were once more in his pocket. He’d knocked them on the floor during his crazed masturbation session. Naturally, they hadn’t broken or poofed away. He couldn’t be that lucky.
    The memory of how intensely he’d blasted off inspired an unwelcome stirring between his legs.
    “Fuck,” he cursed, parking the Buick with a small screech.
    He was partially hard by the time he unbuckled and climbed out. Pressing the button for the store’s elevator brought him up all the way. He wasn’t even certain Cass was staying at her grandmother’s. Coming here was a what-the-hell long shot.
    By nature, werewolves ran hot. Despite the plummeting October temperatures, Rick had dressed in old jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt, plus a light sport jacket to cover his shoulder rig. He buttoned it with a grimace, not cold but needing its length to conceal the effect his old crush had on him. The elevator took him as far as Twelve, at which point his cock was shoved so tight against his zipper he had to work to walk normally.
    Rick’s pack had answered calls here a time or two. He’d been aware the Maycee matriarch lived here. The security station was where he remembered, in a corporate looking atrium with a sunburst-patterned terrazzo floor. A horseshoe desk on a platform sat in its center. The rent-a-cop behind it looked up from his surveillance screens.
    “RPD,” Rick said, badging him. “I need to speak to Miss Maycee.”
    The rent-a-cop studied his badge and him. “She expecting you?”
    “No,” Rick said. His pulse picked up at the indicator that she was here. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ring her for me.”
    The guy didn’t argue, though he also didn’t promise him entry. Picking up his phone’s receiver, he pressed a speed dial button.
    “Miss Maycee?” he said after a short delay. “This is Security on Twelve. There’s someone from the RPD to see you, a Detective Lupone. Would you like me to send him up?”
    Somewhat embarrassingly, a bead of sweat rolled down the