Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters, terms, and affiliates of the Fever Series are not mine, but belong to their respective owners, Karen Marie Moning, Delacorte Press &c.
AN: There are times when I start writing with a pairing in mind and when I'm finished, realize I've written a fic for a completely different pairing. This is one of those times. More gen than anything, but if Ryodan is anything like Barrons, we know he'd have checked her out.
Old, powerful magic has a taste to it. It swirls in the senses when it's inhaled, sliding down the throat and warming the stomach with an anticipatory burn. Good and evil, friendly or malicious—Ireland was saturated with it. But each type of magic has its own distinct taste, and for someone as well-acquainted with it as Ryodan was, he knew the exact second the two sidhe-seers stepped off the street and into Chester's.
The pen that had been busily writing in a ledger stopped mid calculation, and he swivelled his chair around to view the double doors through the mass of dark bodies moving below. It would be a few moments yet before they would get their first glimpse of Chester's, but every step they took downward only thickened the scent that lingered in the air.
Mac was the first to appear, pausing on the threshold as shock, confusion, and disgust warred for dominance on her face at what she saw before her. Despite himself and quite unconsciously, Ryodan rubbed his tongue across the roof of his mouth, savouring the phantom taste of well-aged whiskey as his eyes roamed slowly down the length of Barrons' little detector.
Leather looked...fitting on Ms. Lane.
He let his gaze slip off the slope of Mac's left hip as the smaller one—Dani—grabbed at Mac's arm. They exchanged a few quick words with each other before speaking with a Goth-girl. He watched as their faces grew grimmer with every word. Whatever the Goth-girl had said pushed Mac towards the bar, the little sidhe-seer behind her hot on her heels.
Even from where he was, it was clear to Ryodan that Mac was raring for a fight. It was unfortunate he couldn't accommodate her. There were rules to be followed at Chester's, and judging from the stiff set of her slim shoulders, Ms. Lane wouldn't last must longer.
A small nod of his head sent two of his men down to the main level. It would appear that a small intervention would be needed to keep the peace, and besides, introductions were long overdue.