Blood Kin by M.J. Scott Page A

he’d forgotten what he was doing.
    But then he jerked my chain and the cursed pendant into plain view. The heavy gold key glittered darkly in the light, the amethysts, black diamonds, and deep blue sapphires—sa’Inviel colors—that decorated it sending colored sparks along the walls.
    “Something like this, I’d imagine,” Guy said, leaning forward. His eyes narrowed as he took in the pendant. “Changing your appearance is even easier if you’re Fae.”
    “I’m not.” I hoped like hell that he couldn’t read my lineage in the gems.
    “Part, then.”
    “That’s none of your business,” I said, stuffing the key back beneath my nightgown and trying not to pay attention to the patch of skin still tingling where he’d touched me. If only I’d found a replacement for Stefan Rousselline already. If I’d had a bedmate right now, I wouldn’t be acting quite so foolishly over the Templar.
    “The Night World is my business,” Guy said, settling into his chair. “It seems it’s yours as well.”
    It seemed pointless to keep up the pretense. “So?” I snapped. “I haven’t broken any human laws in a human borough. I haven’t started a riot in a border borough. There’s nothing to interest you here, Templar.”
    His eyes caught mine for another long second and my heart started to pound. Oh, this man was dangerous all right. Burn-you-to-cinders dangerous. My mother had always taught me not to play with fire. Though, right now, I struggled to remember why.
    “On the contrary,” he said. “I think I may have a job for you.”
    I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d knelt down and proposed marriage. “You want to
hire
me?”
    “The Most Holy Order of the Knights Templar wants to hire you,” he corrected.
    “What need does the order have of spies?” I asked, trying to adjust to the rapid turn the conversation had taken. My jaw wasn’t actually hanging open, but it felt as though it were.
    “We need information, the same as anyone else. We need to know what’s going on in the Night World right now. Who’s winning the war for power.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it will keep my men safe.” He paused, looked as though he was about to continue, then paused again.
    “It will help us keep others safe,” he continued. “We need to know where the trouble spots are, where we should be patrolling. We need to know who’s fanning the flames.”
    “Don’t you already have informants?” I knew very well that they did. But I’d never been tempted to get stuck in the middle of the humans and the Night World. It was complicated enough navigating the Beasts and Blood and Fae and Nightseekers without adding the human world into the mix.
    “Our sources are remarkably . . . closemouthed at the moment. Hedging their bets.”
    He had that much right. The shift and flow of Night World power mongers was as slippery as a greased snake. Which I guess was as good a metaphor for the Night World as any. Deadly. Lightning fast. With fangs. Lots of writhing and flailing and sudden death occurring as the snake tried to grow a new head to replace the one it had lost.
    It was good for business even if it increased the risks. But working amongst the Night World was one thing. Working for the Templars against the Night World was likely to result in me being one of those sudden deaths.
    “There are others you could hire, if you name the right price,” I said. I tapped the cast on my arm. “After all, it’s not as if I can do much with this.”
    “Only if you need to go sneaking around on the tops of buildings.”
    “What I do tends to involve a certain amount of sneaking around on the tops of buildings. Besides, your brother is keeping me here for a while. Unless you think the Blood are plotting beneath St. Giles.”
    He looked frustrated, face twisting. “Simon will let you out if I tell him to.”
    I shrugged, trying not to let the steely determination in his voice intimidate my good sense into capitulation.