Zauran by Poppet Page B

following, and gathering intel.”
    Black sleeves are shoved up higher so he can fold his arms and rest elbows on the table. “So there are three of them? And they all smell like that ?”
    “ Yup,” I nod, licking the foam off my lip, watching a blond bend over to retrieve something she dropped, riding her skirt up to give me the perfect view of pussy in sheer black lace. Narrowing my gaze, I inhale. She's a smoker, I can smell it. I stay away from druggies and addictive personalities. Call it an inherent trait of self-preservation. Losing interest I finally meet his eyes.
    “ Tell me about Phoebe,” he says.
    It's an order, and it pisses me off. He turned Zauran into an alpha, hurt him bad when he did it too, which technically makes my oldest sibling my superior. I have no choice but to tell him, except he's a prick and I wish I didn't have to.
    Black eyes charge with purple static. He heard me so he's taking it from me against my will. Dick.
    I lift my middle finger to salute him while he scavenges for discarded carcasses on the deserted beach of my mind.
    “ She's with a mortal. Why are all these women with mortals?” He's scowling now.
    Neuri in major league pissed off mode, alert. I don't need this shit in my life.
    “ Because they love them. An alien concept to you I know.” I give him my eat shit smirk. The woman walking past pours hormones over me. She's ovulating and hornier than a succubus in mating season.
    I nod to him, standing and following her, “Later. I have an itch to scratch.” I love ovulating women, they have roaring orgasms with the slightest provocation. Easy pickings.
    Human men would get so far if they tracked their mate's cycle. An ovulating female thinks about sex all day, every day, until her fertility window shifts. And the added bonus is she's wetter than Waterworld. They are primed and ready, just like the good little animals they are.
    Božena is currently unavailable, and right now I'm hard enough to crack coconuts thanks to the lingering scent she left behind. I'll get her alone, eventually.
    Beating Ryan to that state line is going to be a challenge... unless... unless I can coax him to go after Phoebe.
    Now that's a plan and a half.
    Tonight was most informative. Listening to Jowendrhan's thoughts, Darise's, and Božena's – the world has taken on a clarity it didn't have this morning.
    Cornering the horny human, I lean an arm on the wall next to her chair, smiling down at her and sheathing my eyes with fire, “Hello sweetheart. I'd like to drink you... I mean, get you a drink.”
    I bet I look lecherous; and just as fuckable as I am repulsive. I can't help it, I desire a non-human woman and they just don't exist. So to amuse myself I've become a peddlar of perversion.
    I'm damn tempted to finger this chick right here in her dark corner. So many women get off on the public thing. The idea of public sex, for some reason, is a turn on.
    She should have stayed home with her Bob. A b attery o perated b oyfriend is a helluva lot safer than me.
    But the ditz just swoons closer, reaching for my face to stare her fascination at my eyes. Ridiculous, Serbian women should know what neuri look like. They should know who we are and what we do. It's hard not to shake my head, and force myself to keep still while suffering the fawning scrutiny.
    And no, I don't work-out, sugar. I don't need to.
    Listening to her thoughts I am getting harder by the second.
    *
     
    Božena and Jowendrhan:
     
    “ Where are we?” I ask Jo, looking around.
    This place is monochrome, cleaner than a pediatric ward, and so devoid of personality it's foreboding. Despite the walls and tiles being gleaming white, it feels stifling and the opposite of spacious.
    It gives me the unsettling sensation of being caged.
    “ This is my crypt,” he says with another threatening smile.
    “ Your... er – uh... seriously?”
    He laughs, and it's a sharp contradiction to everything I've witnessed from him tonight. His laugh