by Mina Carter
She scrubbed the tables until they were clean enough to eat from. Hawk was about to make a comment about avoiding him when she straightened, squared her shoulders as though preparing herself to run the gauntlet and walk down the aisle past him. She could wimp out and go the long way around, and he could tell she was considering it when she glanced that way.
Come on, sweet stuff, that’s too obvious. You’re made of stronger stuff than that.
Hawk held his breath as she made her mind up, only releasing it as she started up the aisle toward him. He put his empty mug down as she drew level, taking a chance that the waitress in her wouldn’t be able to resist. Sure enough, she checked and reached out to snag the empty cup.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” Her voice was controlled and perfectly polite, toeing the line after her slip earlier.
“Nothing on the menu, no.”
Hawk moved his leg and blocked the aisle to stop her escaping wherever it was waitresses escaped to.
“But I’ve got a few other needs...” He dropped the timbre of his voice to husky, his manner flirtatious.
Hawk was Warrior-born. The flip-side of the coin to the Wardens, his sole purpose in life was to fight the things that went bump in the night. Some, like Hawk, lived long enough to get good at it. Not that anyone would realize it from his pathetic performance tonight, but fighting and killing demons was what Hawk was all about. What spare time he had he spent training, healing, or finding opportunities to sire the next generation of warriors.
And he considered all essential to his wellbeing, especially the last one.
Anger flared in her eyes at his words. “You’ve got some freaking balls.”
Hawk was glad he’d drained the mug, otherwise he was fairly sure he’d be wearing the contents by now.
“Yup, two of them.” His grin was unrepentant. “Care to view them?”
He didn’t think she was the type, but it was hard to tell with Warden-women. Some of them could be kinky bitches at times, more than happy to take a tumble with a rough and ready warrior. It was all that repression from their overprotective families. Give them a little freedom and they were wild. Probably why they weren’t let out often.
Which posed the question as to why a Warden-woman was waiting tables—it wasn’t as if any Warden families needed the money—but Hawk shoved the question to the back of his mind. He was having far more fun watching her try to frame a response to his question through her anger.
“No!” she managed after several moments of opening and closing her mouth in a bizarre but amusing impression of a goldfish. “I’m not that kind of girl. If you want that then head over to the other side of town. Looking the way you do, the girls on South Street’ll fall over themselves to offer you a good time.”
Hawk’s grin widened. “So you think I’m good looking then.”
She gave him a sharp look. “I didn’t say that. Move your leg please, you’re blocking my way.”
“I know.”
Hawk’s smile faded a little as his side reminded him that it had holes in it. This one was damn hard to charm. Normally all he had to do was flash a smile, twinkle the old baby blues, and it was instant panty remover. He tried again, his tone more serious.
“Thing is, I have some very specific needs.”
“I don’t want to hear about your fetishes. Excuse me.” Her lips pursed tight as she began to brush past him. He shot his hand out and grabbed her arm, stopping her as he flicked his jacket open to reveal the ripped T-shirt and the deep, barely healed wounds furrowing his side. “I need a Warden. Seen one hereabouts?”
A gasp and a wince of sympathy escaped her lips. Her gaze flicked from his wounded side back up to meet his eyes.
“I’m not a Warden,” she said, the reply too immediate and automatic for him to believe.
He shook his head.
“You got a mark on your back which says otherwise, sweetheart. And I really need a Warden right about now.” His voice was tight but not begging. Not yet. Give it a little longer and he would be. “Or I’m not going to last the night.”
Her fingers tightened around the empty mug, and she nodded. “Okay, I’m almost done here. Meet me outside. But I can’t promise much, understand?”
In the shadows outside the diner, Hawk eased into a more comfortable slouch against the wall to wait for the Warden. Propping one foot against the brickwork, he thrust his hands deep into his pockets and recalled their conversation. She’d been so open, every emotion visible on her delicate face. Irritation with him, and an interest she’d tried hard to conceal, seemed to be the main contenders.
There had been something else though. An odd pull as if he recognized her somehow, which was madness since he knew he’d never seen her before in his life. He put the thought to the back of his mind for now. All that mattered was that his little waitress was a Warden. He’d always believed the Fates were total bitches, eager to screw any guy over, but here they were, dropping a Warden right in his lap right when he needed one.
Perhaps they weren’t that bad after all.
The door opened, and Hawk looked up, vision sharp in the darkness of the shadows. His little Warden stepped out the door of the diner, looping her purse over her shoulder until it lay across her body. She was a pretty little thing; slender and petite with an ethereal air that did things to him on a very primitive level. An image flashed in his mind. That dark hair spread in a halo around her on the bed, her violet eyes dark with passion....
One night, she’d said. Sanctuary.
She couldn't refuse him. It was what Wardens did. Warriors fought the things that went bump in the night, and Wardens took care of the magical side of things. They pedaled protection spells, amulets and potions. If he or any of his brothers needed a magical circle and a circle of salt just wasn't going to cut it, then they called a Warden in. They came, they saw, they left graffiti all over the floor. Whether painted, or carved into stone or wood, nothing got past a Warden's circle, and that was just a magical circle, a temporary protection. Havens—a Warden's home ground—were reputed to be impenetrable, the magical equivalent of Fort Knox.
“Car’s this way,” she said as she passed him and headed for the alleyway at the side of the diner. Hawk pushed off the wall with a grunt and followed her, his gaze dropping to admire her ass. It was an automatic reaction. He was male and she had a great ass.
His brows snapped together when they turned the corner and into the darkened alleyway. Typical of the inner city it was an odd shaped gap, just large enough for a couple of Dumpsters and a small car. It was only saved from being badly lit by not being lit at all. The single lamp over one of the doors was out of action and had been for some time if the bird’s nest in the broken cover was any indication. Instead, the alleyway was shrouded in darkness and tucked out of sight of the street. The perfect place for an attack.
Hawk’s scowl deepened as his companion searched around in her purse for the keys. He couldn’t believe this.
“You should have found those before you left the diner,” he said in disapproval. Did the woman have no damn common sense whatsoever? It was a good thing he was here with her. Distracted as she was, she’d make an easy target for any random nut-job wandering the streets.
She shot him a look through her bangs. “Who do you think you are? My damn father?”
Hawk sighed. This was why he was glad he had no family to speak of, just his warrior brothers. Stupid I can look after myself even though I obviously have no clue how to females, who didn’t have the common sense they were well born with.
“No. But I pity the poor man with a daughter like you,” he snapped back, exhaustion and pain making his tone sharper than he intended. “You do realize you could be attacked down here and no one would know?”
She shrugged, a dismissive gesture, and carried on with her search. Hawk ground his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not when he was trying to tell her something for her own benefit.
&nbs
p; “Aha! Found them. They always hide in the corners.”
She pulled the keys from the tiny excuse for a purse in triumph. Hawk looked at it. It wasn’t big enough to get a decent sized...well, anything...in, so how she could lose anything in the thing was beyond him.
“Did you hear a word I said?”
“Hmmm?” She bent her knees, ducking down and squinting as she tried to find the keyhole in the door. Hawk prayed for strength.
“About being attacked? Here? Don’t be stupid. It’s far too close to the diner for anyone to try anything here,” she said with a small chuckle, and managed to get her keys in the lock finally. The door swung open.
Hawk lost his temper and slammed it shut. She needed to be taught a lesson about personal safety before she got herself hurt for real. And he was just the guy to do it.
Lyssa jumped at his sudden movement and started to back up. He looked very dangerous, the expression on his face grim and forbidding. Her heart pounding, she tried to dodge away, but he was too quick for her. A large hand closed around her upper arm and hauled her up against him before she could escape.
“Is that so?” he muttered, his lips inches from hers.
Eyes locked with his, she lost the ability to think. His eyes were beautiful. Mesmerizing in their intensity. Darkness swirled in the depths, joined by a heat that made her go weak at the knees. Her body reacted in seconds, heat flooding her cheeks as the nipples beneath her cotton T-shirt tightened to hard buds that rubbed against his broad chest. Lord, he had to feel that, there was no way he could miss it. His eyes darkened further, lips parting to drag a swift breath in, the look starting a flutter deep in her abdomen.
Oh god, I'm a tart…
She should have felt threatened, but didn’t. One look in his eyes, so close to hers, and she knew he wouldn't hurt her, not physically anyway. Emotionally…that was an entirely different matter.
Please let him kiss me… so close...
"S… Sorry, you were saying?" she asked, realizing he'd said something.
A slow grin spread over his lips and took her breath away. Snarling and surly he'd been cute as hell, but smiling? He was drop-dead gorgeous. Lyssa barely managed to restrain a whimper as he leaned down, his lips almost brushing hers.
"Doesn’t matter...."
His voice was a soft whisper, lost to Lyssa's ears as soon as his lips touched hers. Not the demanding, hard touch she expected but a softer, gentle exploration. His lips slanted over hers, his hand sliding to the nape of her neck and tilting her head to just the angle he wanted.
His lips wandered. Softly at first, sliding caressingly before his tongue brushed against the full curve of her lower lip. She gasped, opening instinctively for him, and then moaned as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing along hers in a slow, sensual mimicry of love-making.
Oh, hell, can he kiss or what?
Lyssa had never been on the receiving end of such an explosively sensual kiss before. All her normal reserve deserted her. She needed more. Everything. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed herself against him to wrap her arms around his shoulders. A small sound of frustration broke from her throat when he lifted his head to look down at her. She fought back the pout. He couldn’t stop now.
"Oh...wow," she managed, blinking in surprise. She opened her mouth again, but before she could speak, all hell broke loose.
Chapter Three
Hawk sensed the attack less than a heartbeat before it happened. His normally sharp instincts were dull, all wrapped up in the tempting little package in his arms. He had a fraction of a second to react, wrapping her in his arms and turning toward the car to protect her with his body. He ducked his head as the fireball hit, and his last spell shield flared brightly, lighting the alley lit up like daylight for a second.
He opened his eyes. No time to think about the curvy figure pressed against him, nor the response of his body, a heavy need near obsession. A feeling made worse as she squirmed against him, oblivious to his distress. Not making a comment, he told himself firmly. A promise that was easy to keep as he saw the fear in her eyes.
“You’re up, sweetheart,” he prompted. She was the Warden here. Spells and hocus-pocus were right up her alley. Quite literally in this case.
Lyssa looked up at him, a blank expression in her eyes. “Huh? What do you expect me to do?”
Another spell broke across his back, and Hawk grunted as he braced his legs against the force. “Much as I like getting all up close and personal, my back is getting a little toasty here, and that shield’s not going to hold out much longer. You want to make it snappy with the abracadabra?”
“I told you I’m not a damn Warden!” she snapped, panic and confusion in her voice as she flicked a glance over his shoulders.
The shield took another hit, and a loud crack echoed around the alley. From the changing color surrounding him every time it got hit—moving from cool moss-green to sickly yellow-green—Hawk knew it wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Just get us out of here!”
She wasn’t going to do anything.
Shock filled Hawk as she looked up at him pleadingly, as though trusting him to do something. Trust, that’s what did him. He was a Warrior; his duty was to protect those weaker than himself, and a terrified Warden-girl that looked like she weighed less than a wet kitten definitely fit into that category.
Caught, he was mesmerized by her large violet eyes when another spell hit, breaking over his back with enough force to make him grunt and snap out of it. What maggot had gotten into his head? He’d never been be-spelled by a woman. If he didn’t know better, he’d be checking her for a set of fangs.
“After the next hit,” he told her, yanking the keys from the car door. “It’ll take him a while to set up the next incantation.”
She nodded at his words, her eyes as wide as saucers. Then the expression in them changed, became more thoughtful. “Eight seconds is average to cast an incantation. Give or take,” she whispered, surprising him. How many people, even Wardens, would have known that?
“What are you? Some kind of spell nerd?”
She flushed but didn’t get time to answer as another fireball splashed across his back.
“Now. Go. In the other side.”
As one they moved, Hawk using his bigger body to protect her as they took cover on the other side of the car. The bulk of the vehicle between them would give them some extra protection if the warden attacking them was faster than her estimate.
He was. They rolled into cover behind the small car at the same moment another fireball skittered across the hood in their wake to splash against the wall behind them. Fueled by magic instead of anything earthly, the thing flared and spread in a bright circle, burning for a few seconds before the enchantment ran out.
“Shit, they must have prepped scrolls or something,” she shouted, ducking her head as another two spells hit the car, flames licking over the roof and reaching for them. Instantly he pulled her into his side, protecting her until the flames died. The spell-shield whined, then faded away. Worn out.
Hawk winced, rolling his shoulders as he tried to dissipate the heat. Whoever it was attacking them obviously weren’t used to dealing with the Warrior kind. The attacks—while numerous—were weak. Anyone with experience knew that if you wanted a Warrior dead, then you took him out in a single hit because you sure as hell didn’t get a second.
No, you had to hit hard and fast, hard enough to break through all the magical protection a warrior wore. And they only wore the best money could buy. Hell, half of them clinked when they moved, thanks to the sheer number of amulets and rings required to provide even the basic protection. Hawk wasn’t a jewelry kind of guy, but his own fingers were covered with rings of every size and description.
The Wardens who made them, though, had a twisted sense of humor. Most of the high-level protection stuff Hawk and his brothers needed had a distinctly feminine look to them. Warriors and Wardens didn’t get along too well, and since Warriors te
nded to be almost exclusively male, he suspected it was intentional.
They had no choice but to grin and bear it. The only other option was to have the wards inked in. Trouble was, it wasn’t like getting a normal tattoo. A ward couldn’t just be drawn. Well, they could, but all that would be was a drawing of a ward. To make it work, to make any ward work, whoever drew it had to draw on the witching at the same time to infuse it with power. An ordinary tattoo artist just couldn’t do that, and no Ink Warden had ever set up outside the Havens. If one did, and Hawk heard about it, he’d have been camped out on the guy’s doorstep to get inked.
Hawk frowned as a weird high pitched whistle echoed around the alley. Beneath him, his companion froze.
“Shit,” she swore, fighting to her feet even as Hawk tried to keep her down under cover. “That’s a Heracanius curse…run!”
He had no idea what a Heracanius was, but from the sheer desperation in her expression and the speed she took off down the alley, he figured it was a bad thing. Instinct had him on his feet and running after her in a heartbeat, boots pounding the broken asphalt. Not a moment too soon. The whistle built to a scream and a whoosh. Hawk glanced back over his shoulder as the biggest fireball he’d ever seem slammed into the car behind them. It hit like a rocket, the little vehicle exploding in a storm of fire and scream of twisting metal. Shit, if they’d been behind that…
That thought faded as another took its place. They were out in the open with no protection and a homicidal warden on the roof. All in all, he’d rather face a pack of Keres demons again.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” The litany fell from Hawk’s lips as he tried to keep himself between the warden and the woman running in front of him. He was big enough to provide at least a little cover, enough for her to get to some kind of safety. Maybe.
