Keystone (Crossbreed #1)(23)

“I wouldn’t say I can control her,” Blue added. “We understand each other and cohabitate.”

I rested my arm on the table. “What’s your animal?”

“It’s impolite to ask, but maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

Blue didn’t have the bright personality Gem had. She spoke frankly but didn’t come across as rude. She seemed every bit as tough as the men, yet still displayed femininity in the regal manner in which she lifted her glass and took a sip.

Viktor sat down. “You already know Niko. He’s older than my grandfather’s socks and sees what we cannot.”

My eyes settled on the Chitah’s hands as he broke a loaf of bread. Those things looked better suited for crushing boulders, not cutting hair. I’d never seen such a diverse group of people working together, not just based on their Breeds but also their personalities.

“We’re going to have to do something about this seating arrangement,” Viktor said, refilling his glass.

Everyone resumed eating the fruit, bread, and cheeses on the table before us.

“Why’s that?” Claude asked, chewing off a hunk of bread.

“Partners should sit together,” he replied.

All eyes moved to one person who was sitting on the far right.

“Jaysus wept,” Christian muttered. “You’re not serious.”

Viktor buttered a slice of bread, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Dead serious.”

“What’s he talking about?” I whispered to Niko, butterflies swirling in my stomach.

Niko leaned close. “We all work together, but we each have a partner. We sit beside them. Gem and Claude, Shepherd and Wyatt, and I’m with Blue. That just leaves you and—”

“Christian,” I finished.

“She’s a bright one,” Christian mused.

I leaned back in my chair, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations.”

“It can hardly be helped,” he said, glaring back at me. “Your lyrical voice and eloquent use of vocabulary is sublime.”

Viktor pointed his knife. “And that is why you must sit together. It’s harder to bicker when there’s nothing between you. See what wonders it’s done for Wyatt and Shepherd?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Shepherd said gruffly.

Shepherd had a tattoo on his upper right arm that went beneath his short-sleeve shirt. I couldn’t make out what it was, only that the design was elaborate and detailed. Maybe my eyes were deceiving me in the candlelight, but I could have sworn there were scars all over his arms. He lit up a cigarette and stared at me so coldly that I looked away.

“So what can Sensors do?” I asked.

Claude held a roll between his fingers, frozen. “Are you serious?”

I worried my lip, feeling the judgmental stares upon me. “I don’t exactly hang out with Breed as much as you might think. I know that Sensors can pick up emotional energy and all that, but what are they doing in the back of the clubs when all that glowy red stuff is coming from their hands?”

Wyatt elbowed Shepherd. “Why don’t you show her?”

Shepherd lifted a reluctant gaze to Viktor, who nodded in agreement. Shepherd stubbed out the cigarette on his plate and abruptly stood up, rounding the table with an angry stride.

When he neared me, I almost reached for a pointy fork.

He placed his rough hands on my shoulders and moved them down as if he were about to feel me up. I reactively gripped his wrists, ready to fly out of my chair, when suddenly…

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

A faint red glow emanated from his palms, spilling magic into me. A sensation rushed through my body, so real that it felt as if someone were tickling me.

I couldn’t control the laughter.

He let go and returned to his seat.

Gem giggled and raised her glass. “Wasn’t that fun? Shepherd only ever gives us the tickles.”

Viktor tapped his knife on the table to get my attention. “I don’t allow sensory exchanges in my house. This is not a circus, and that also goes for sharing light. Unless you have a metal pin coming out of your skull and need to heal, I don’t want you drawing light from anyone. Gifts become curses when they’re not given their due respect.”

I sat back in my chair. “Won’t be a problem. I hate being tickled.”

Viktor set down his knife. “Shepherd detects emotions, but he can also pull them from people and store them. That’s how Sensors make their money—sensory exchange. They sell emotional experiences, and in some cases, remove them. For customers it’s temporary, addictive, and recreational. But it can also be used to gather information, and that’s what he does best.”

“I guess that makes going into public restrooms an unpleasant experience,” I said with a snort.

Viktor ate two more grapes. “Sensors live for hundreds of years, like Shifters.”

“Mileage may vary,” Wyatt remarked, loading up his plate with cheese. “Gravewalkers live to a thousand.”

“Good for you,” Shepherd said. “More generations to annoy with your fashion.”

Wyatt glanced down at his T-shirt, which said THE FUCK I GAVE WENT THAT WAY, with an arrow.

“I’m just here to educate,” he replied, scrunching up his disheveled brown hair, absent of the knit cap I’d previously seen him wearing.