He’d been stunned by the incident and scores of less significant ones, but his mother always danced over his concerns, ruffling his hair and telling him not to worry. Eventually he’d listened, ignoring his heightened senses, desperate for normalcy. And they’d mostly gone away, except for his intuition for trouble.
Now, as inconspicuously as possible, Tucker glanced back over his shoulder and watched the group of slayers saunter into the diner, taking seats at the soda counter. Three of them. He’d tangled with plenty of slayers in his lifetime as a vampire, but he’d never once been scared. He was now. Because the beautiful soul sitting across from Tucker had chosen him to bring her somewhere safely. She trusted him. And the fact that her safety could be called into question made a growl burn up the walls of his throat.
“Tucker?”
“When I tell you to, I need you to get under the table and stay there, Mary. Hands over your head. Do you understand me?”
The tempo of her breathing escalated. “Yes.”
Tucker picked up his discarded spoon and held it at chin level, using the reflective metal to watch for movement behind him. It was no coincidence that these clowns were in the same middle of nowhere diner as him and Mary. The slayers had followed them. Or been alerted of their whereabouts by someone who’d spotted them between here and New York. One or the other. The slayer network was vaster than anyone realized and Tucker was nothing if not recognizable. Hell, he worked for the king and dressed like a drug dealer. Pretty hard to miss.
As the three figures remained in place, Tucker took a mental catalogue of the situation.
The fae had been allies of the slayers, right up until Tilda bounced over to the dark side. To Hadrian’s side. Had the news spread through the underworld already? Was Mary no longer safe from the slayers?
To say nothing of him—a vampire. He’d never be safe from them. Not as long as he walked the earth, but that was the least important thing on his mind at that moment.
There was only her.
His back teeth ground together. Hard.
Company policy was to leave the slayers alive, since they were humans, but if they tried to harm Mary, it would be game over.
He’d deal with Jonas’s disappointment and potential penalty later.
Through the chorus of a sizzling stove and Willie Nelson’s voice, Tucker listened for the tiniest hint of the air changing. And when it finally did, it happened fast. The bodies reflected in the spoon loomed closer and Tucker growled, “Now, Mary.”
No sooner did she disappear beneath the table did Tucker kick up and out of the booth, hitting his first assailant with a spin-kick to the jaw. With bone crunching under the arch of his foot, he was already launching the next attack, using the flat edge of his hand to send the second attacker’s jugular into the back of his neck.
He leaned back just in time to avoid a stake.
It whizzed past his face from the left, arcing down toward his chest. Mary’s cry painted the air—and that’s when the world seemed to break down into tiny little molecules. Something wild and hot and sharp lanced him in the middle. He detected flavors in the air. His senses were already extremely well-tuned, but they reached another level of accurate when her distress reached his ears. She’s in danger. They are putting her in danger.
In Tucker’s periphery, he saw that everything in the restaurant had lifted. Ketchup bottles, napkin holders, silverware. The milkshake machine was sputtering, shooting ice cream onto the atmosphere, white glops changing shape behind the counter like miniature ghosts. Plates of food rose from tables, every object hovering in the air, as if awaiting his command.
His fingertips buzzed.
And he had an uncharacteristic taste for violence.
A snarl curled his lip and he plucked the stake from the slayer’s hand, bringing the blunt end down hard on his head, rendering him unconscious. With one assailant down, he threw an elbow backward and shattered the cartilage of a nose. In the split second it took Tucker to deal with the second man, the third took a step in Mary’s direction and said, “There she is. Tilda’s brat,” sneered the slayer, eyes bright with fight-lust. “Your mother thinks she can switch allegiances so easily? She won’t for long. Time to send a little message.”
Every window in the diner blew out.
Car alarms screamed in the parking lot.
Everything that had been suspended in mid-air exploded, letting loose a deafening roar of breaking glass and debris landing on walls, the floor. The other customers in the diner dove out through the broken windows, the waitress following suit. And there was a part of Tucker that was alarmed by this side of himself—because it was definitely him commanding the objects. Projecting his outrage into the immediate area and causing destruction. It was all him.
Because Mary was under threat.
His hand shot out and caught the one who dared advance on her. Caught him around the neck and lifted him off the ground. He experienced a bloodlust like he’d never felt before and it would have been so easy, so easy to flick his wrist and end this sucker’s life. He deserved it for wanting to harm the girl. But Tucker saw Mary huddled beneath the table, his name on her trembling lips, and the ringing in his ears thinned, the taste for vengeance souring in his mouth.
Without taking his gaze from Mary, he threw the man headfirst through the blown-out window, already reaching for her. Lunging for the fairy and dragging her up into his arms. Holding her against his chest, crowned head tucked under his chin, ready to kill anyone who tried to take her. His boots crunched on glass as he stomped out of the diner and into the parking lot, his body shaking, blood dripping from his knuckles.
What was happening to him?
What was happening?
His instinct was to put her in his Impala and get the fuck out of there. But he must have retained some semblance of sanity, because he didn’t. No. He couldn’t. His car keys, all of her things, were still in the motel room next door.
Mary wrapped her arms around his neck more securely, her face pressed to his neck, and the hunger damn near brought him to his knees.
Nearly at the motel room door now, Tucker’s palm cradled the back of her head, massaging her skull gently. “Mary…”
“Uh-huh?” His fangs descended, his vision doubling. “What was that?”
“My fangs.” Tucker stroked her hair with more force than he should have, making her suck in a breath, her body turning tense in his arms. Cursing, he set her down outside the motel room door and fumbled with the lock. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t even been that long since the last time I fed.” His voice dropped. “It’s not usually like this.”
But there was a dawning sense of understanding in the back of his mind.
His new abilities. Abilities that only manifested with Mary in danger.
The unbelievable yearning for her blood.
Fate couldn’t be this cruel, could it?
As soon as they were in the motel room, shut away from potential human witnesses, Tucker set Mary down on the bed and let his vampiric speed kick in. He threw articles of clothing and toiletries into Mary’s suitcase, locked it and snatched up his keys. When he would have thrown Mary over his shoulder and got the hell out of Dodge, he skidded to a stop to find her blocking the door, her lips parted slightly, eyes wide and unseeing, her hand extended in his direction. “Tucker, what happened in the diner? The explosion. Th-the glass breaking…it wasn’t my scream, was it? It didn’t feel like me…”
It went against everything inside of him to lie. To use her blindness as a means of keeping the truth hidden. It made him sick. But what was his other option?
Tell Mary she was his mate?
That a vampire generated deadly new talents that only emerged with their mate in jeopardy? He couldn’t even count on two hands the amount of problems it would lead to. Chiefly along them all, he didn’t want Mary feeling conflicted. To feel beholden to him in some way.
When a vampire found his mate, it wasn’t exactly a casual arrangement. It w
as an irreversible joining. A sealing of fate. There was no separate vacations or goodbye pecks on the cheek. If there was a separation, it went beyond the typical definition of torture. Worse, if a vampire fed from his mate, he could no longer be sustained by any other blood but hers. Once it passed his lips, he would die without it. Slowly and painfully.
Mary didn’t need to know any of this, because he absolutely would not drink from her. Even if she wasn’t betrothed to Hadrian, he wouldn’t inflict that kind of responsibility on this girl.
There was a chance Mary knew none of these facts. It was more than possible, considering she was fae and had little to no contact with the vampire world. Hell, the world in general. And in this case, unfortunately, the less she knew, the better.
“There were three slayers,” he lied hoarsely. “They had some kind of explosive device.”
“But…” Her fingertips searched the air. “I heard you in there. You sounded different. You feel different right now.”
“How do I feel?”
“I’ve never felt such rage…” She whispered the next part. “And now…hunger.”
Tucker massaged his throat roughly and tried to block out the sound of her pulse. “I’m fine, kid. We need to move.”
With obvious reluctance, she nodded and allowed herself to be led from the room. To the soundtrack of approaching sirens, he hustled Mary to his Impala, threw the luggage into the trunk and called Jonas.
“Tucker,” answered the king.
“Hey boss.” Tucker threw a glance at the diner where employees were milling around outside looking shell-shocked. “Clean up on aisle three.”
Jonas’s tone remained patient. “What happened?”
“I can’t explain now. But there was an incident at a diner off I-80…near Danville. I don’t know if there were cameras. Or anyone recording on their phones…”
“I’ll send someone immediately and get it cleaned up.” Jonas paused. “Are we just going to pretend you’re not keeping company with the enemy’s intended bride?”
In Tucker’s periphery, he saw Mary tense.
His own spine felt ready to snap over the word bride.
“We’ll talk about that later, too,” Tucker rasped.
“Obviously we need to speak in person. I’m coming to you.” Footsteps echoed down the line. “There’s a safe house near you. In Lock Haven. Bring the girl there. I’ll meet you.”
Tucker hand twisted on the steering wheel. “I can’t do that.”
Jonas didn’t respond right away. “You don’t trust me?”
The hurt in his best friend’s tone made his stomach feel full or rocks. He had no reason not to trust the king. Jonas had been the one to give him a purpose when he’d been at loose ends. He’d bestowed more trust on Tucker over the years than could be quantified and it pained Tucker that he couldn’t do the same now. “I’m sorry, but…she’s going to seal an alliance between the uprising and the fae. She puts your throne in jeopardy. It’s in your best interest to make sure she never arrives.”
The footsteps slowed. “Elias said you wouldn’t actually bring her.”
“Things have changed.”
“What things?” Jonas’s tone had more steel in it now. Still, Tucker refrained from answering. “Go to the safe house. You have my word I won’t interfere.”
He could almost see the foundation of their friendship crumbling in front of his very eyes and he was seconds from sealing the deal when Mary laid a hand on his wrist. “It’s okay. Do what he says.”
Tucker swallowed a shard of glass. “Fine. Tomorrow night.”
They hung up without a goodbye.
Chapter 7
Mary had been kept indoors for a long time, but she still remembered the constant sense vulnerability of being among people with eyesight. Being blind meant never truly feeling one hundred percent involved with the world around her. Other people were running it. They were doing so in deference to people with working eyes, making her an outsider. There was always a chance she was missing something. Or that she was in potential danger without realizing it.
One year, while growing up in the commune, the elders had decided to observe Christmas. More for their own amusement than anything else. Decorating the communal tree was the first time Mary acknowledged the deck was stacked against her. She’d been more than capable of hanging ornaments on branches during the trimming ceremony, but the other children kept moving them. Either she’d put them too close to another one. Or she’d put it in a section that was already heavy with shiny baubles and balls. Her efforts could be erased for being imperfect without even an explanation even being offered. As if she didn’t warrant one.
With Tucker at her side, there was no question she was physically safe. But she couldn’t help the feeling that he was currently spinning a different reality.
Moving ornaments without explanations.
She’d never felt anything like the blast of Tucker’s rage in the diner.
More than that, she’d never experienced anything like her reaction to it.
In the midst of his primal outrage, her fingers had curled into the tile floor, mouth drying up. She’d listened to his grunts of pain and growls of aggression, the shocking blows of his fists connecting to bone, his enemies crying out in pain…and she’d grown oddly restless. In a way that wasn’t familiar.
The tips of her breasts were still sensitive an hour later. The wet material of her underwear was adhering to her sex, making it necessary to keep her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. Not only to shield her embarrassing response to being protected by Tucker, but to keep from reaching over and stroking his skin. His face, his shoulders, his thighs.
Surely she should have only felt fear back at the diner.
Not fear with a slick coat of arousal on top.
It wasn’t unusual for her to intercept a being’s mood. To have an emotional experience alongside them, like mirth or sadness. But she usually had to search for it. Concentrate and seek it out. She wasn’t seeking this out whatsoever, so it couldn’t be coming from Tucker, could it?
No, this was her. Not her empathy or ability to read energy.
Mary twined her fingers more tightly together. Touch was something she valued above everything. Without the use of her fingertips, she wouldn’t be able to feel her way down hallways or recognize the texture of her favorite jeans or read. When she needed to puzzle something out, she touched it. And so with Tucker behaving so oddly and clearly keeping things from her, the instinct to touch was fierce.
“We should be there in a few minutes,” Tucker said, the low register of his voice making her tingle in strange places, like her thighs and lips. “We’ll stay here a night or two, as long as it’s safe. We’re not that far from Hadrian’s manor, but you’re not due for a while and…” Suddenly he seemed unsure. “You still want to cross those items off your list, right?”
“Yes.”
A beat passed. “With me?”
Mary frowned. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It got a pretty violent back there.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight. “I just want you to feel safe.”
“It got violent because you were protecting me,” she pointed out.
He cleared his throat. “I guess even after all this time, I’m not used to the violence that comes with being this way. I mean, hell, I grew up pudgy with a smart mouth, so I’ve been in my share of fist fights. Mostly happened when they’d make fun of my father. A black eye now and then was par for the course.” He paused. “But those fights weren’t about killing.”
“Did you kill any of the slayers tonight?”
“I wanted to, Mary. One of them went for you. If he’d gotten one more step…”
Mary realized she was leaning closer and closer to Tucker and snapped back into her seat, clasped hands pressing, pressing so tightly to the hem of her dress. Was it normal to be so turned on by a male’s protectiveness? Every time his hand creaked on the steering wheel from leftove
r frustration or his chest rumbled, a surge of heat flooded her.
He’d have killed for her. And she’d never believed herself to be the slightest bit barbaric, but something about how feral he’d been tonight made her feel coveted and achy. Having Tucker as her guardian had been right since she’d sensed him in Enders. She’d actually heard the word guardian in the back of her mind, warm and golden and true. Now there was this…this need on top of her affection for him that seemed to be growing with every passing minute.
“Why is your pulse beating so fast?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Were you lying about me scaring you?”
“No. No, that’s not it. I promise.”
“Mary.” When she didn’t answer, she heard the tick tock of his turn signal, felt the car bump over the lane dividers. And then the car started to slow until it stopped completely. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s embarrassing,” she whispered.
“Oh.” His hand settled on her shoulder. “Do you have your period?”
“No!” Lava coated her face. “Fae don’t get periods.”
“Really. You learn something new every day.” He massaged the place where his hand touched and Mary felt a moan building in her throat. “Hey come on, I told you I grew up pudgy? They made me play a whale in a church production of Jonah and the Whale. I had to make the sounds and everything. Pretend to swallow a skinny kid. Your thing can’t be as bad as that.”
A half-sob, half-laugh sound fell from her mouth. “I don’t know how to describe it, because it’s never happened before, but…” She wet her lips nervously. “I got some…feelings tonight when you were defending me. And they’ve lasted for an uncomfortably long time.”
The air in the car turned charged. “What sort of feelings?”
“The not good kind.”
“Okay. Would you mind if I confirmed that?”
Today, Tomorrow and Always Page 7
