“I didn’t do anything! I swear. All I did was push his arm away and he fell over.”
Zach’s heavy brow wrinkled for a second; then those pale green eyes of his went wide as if he’d just figured out what had gone wrong. “Come here,” he demanded, tugging her down to the floor until her hand was pressed flat against Drake’s stomach—his bare, hard, warm stomach that should have been completely covered by his T-shirt, but wasn’t. All that writhing had worked it up over his ribs and she could see half of a large tattoo running up over his left side. It was a tree, inked in lifelike colors and perfect detail. Every swirled knothole, every twist of the tree’s roots were so realistic she was sure she could almost feel the rough texture of the bark beneath her fingertips. Fine tendrils of roots spread down over his stomach and disappeared beneath the belt on his jeans. She refused to think about where they led.
Her fingers touched his skin, and it didn’t take two full seconds for Drake to relax. Both men looked at her in shock, then looked at each other, sharing some secret guy-speak. She had no clue what was going on, and at this point she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. All she wanted was to take Miss Mabel back home and crawl into a deep, hot bath for about a week. She was fairly certain she couldn’t burn alive in a bathtub, and it was the only time she ever truly relaxed.
“You’re coming with us,” said the big guy. His bright blue eyes scanned Drake’s body, concern pulling at his brows.
“No, I’m not,” said Helen.
Zach let go of Helen’s wrist and stood up. She should have pulled away and headed for the door, but something stopped her. Something was happening beneath her hand. Drake’s skin heated and she was flooded with that odd rush of energy she’d felt before. It filled her up inside, like a warm light, finding all the cold, dark little cracks and holes inside her. There was a faint buzzing sensation and the taste of honey in her mouth, the smell of rain in her nose. She felt light. Buoyant.
This wasn’t right. It felt incredibly good, but it wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Couldn’t be real.
She started to pull her fingers away, but Drake’s hand caught hers before she finished lifting them from his skin. His fingers wrapped around her wrist and she could feel that disturbing hum of energy sinking into her where each of his lean fingers met her skin.
He sat up, looking alert and coherent, and she felt the soft knit of his shirt pool against her wrist. He held her hand in place and leaned forward until there was barely two inches between them. “I’m not letting you get away again. Not until we figure out what this thing between us is.”
It was a vow. She could feel the power of it settle around the two of them, shutting out the rest of the world.
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. A lot of strange things had happened to her throughout her life, but this was way off the weird chart. “There is no thing between us.”
He gave her that half smile from her vision. “There is now.”
Behind him, just inside the window that led to the diner’s kitchen, orange flames erupted, spewing up like a geyser.
Fire. The smell of burning skin.
Helen’s world collapsed down to a pinpoint of panic she couldn’t escape. It sucked her in and robbed her of oxygen. She couldn’t even remember how to breathe.
Chapter 2
Zach liked a little spice in his women, but this was ridiculous. He’d seen the sexy little waitress sneak around the counter with that knife. After the stunt she’d pulled with that damn skewer, Zach didn’t doubt for a second that she’d use it. He knew she would. The trickle of blood running down his arm was proof of that.
“You wanna play, little girl?” Zach asked her, stalking closer. She was so damn beautiful he just wanted to eat her up. Her big brown eyes were dark, like bittersweet chocolate, which he guessed fit her personality well. She’d been all sugar and smiles when she’d taken their order and brought them their dinner, but as soon as she thought her friends were in danger, all that sugar had blown away, leaving the real woman behind. Ferocious. Lovely. That dainty pointed chin of hers wasn’t fooling him. She was all spirit and backbone and he loved it.
Lexi wasn’t very big, but that wasn’t her fault. She was built with quality in mind, not quantity, and that spiky, bad-girl hair and the brief flash of the tattoo she had spiraling down from the small of her back was really working for him. Zach wasn’t sure exactly what the image was—he just had an impression of sinuous curves—but it didn’t matter. He liked that she was tough enough to take the pain, that she was willing to make that small sacrifice for something she found beautiful. This vicious streak she was showing now was just an added bonus.
Now, if he could get her to put down the knife, they could have a nice, long talk, and maybe after his work was done, she’d let him see just how far below her low-rise jeans that tattoo went.
From the corner of his eye, Zach saw the little old lady had recovered her walker and was headed for the telephone. The last thing they needed was for her to call in a bunch of human police to muck things up. The seizure thing Drake had done was enough fun for one night.
Drake was sitting up now, which was a good sign, but sunset was in less than a minute, and once that happened, things could go from ugly to fucking ugly in a heartbeat. Those demons were likely champing at the bit to get out of their dank hidey-holes and start hunting. The scent of blood running down Zach’s arm was going to ensure that this was one of the first places they stopped.
Lexi was circling to his left, toward the old woman—likely to protect her. As if any of the Sentinels would ever hurt some old lady. Of course, she couldn’t know that.
“Put down the knife, honey. There’s been enough bloodshed for tonight.”
“I’ll tell you when I’ve shed enough blood,” she spat.
Zach wanted to kiss that violent mouth of hers. He’d thought she was pretty before when she’d been Lexi the Waitress, but now that she was Lexi the Avenger, she was glorious. Stunning.