Almost Midnight (6 page)

She stuck one foot behind the other. “And you won't see them naked,” she snapped, not liking that they'd been here less than five minutes and they were already … flirting. At least it felt like flirting.

And Della Tsang didn't flirt.

Not anymore.

His gaze rose from her feet. “We'll see about that,” he said.

They stood there staring at each other for a second. Then he spoke up. “You want to go grab a bite to eat?”

She frowned. “I brought a couple pints of AB positive with me in my bag.” Which she needed to put in the fridge. While most vamps preferred their blood warm, Della liked it better cold. When your core temperature was 92 degrees, you appreciated things colder than yourself.

“Yeah, but I need food. Something hot and greasy. Nutrients for whatever the hell is gonna go down tomorrow morning.”

Steve had been set up to play as her shape-shifter boyfriend, a guy she'd met after running away from home. They didn't allow anyone but vampires into the gang, but if she got accepted, and he could prove his worth to them, he would be brought in as an “extra.” Basically someone they sent out to do their dirty work. Which was part of the reason it pissed her off that Burnett insisted he come. Extras were considered expendable.

“Don't worry, I'll protect you,” she said.

“That just warms my heart.” He put a hand over his wide chest. “Come on, go with me to grab a burger.”

He made it sound like a date or something. Frowning, she was about to call him on it when she remembered seeing a Walmart not far from there and close to some fast-food joints. She could pick up a set of sheets, a blanket, and some extra-strength Lysol spray and maybe be able to sleep on the bed. That meant she could skip out on the foot-loving, Southern-speaking Steve. She wouldn't be gone long. She only needed a peek. A peek at the life she'd been cheated out of.

“Fine.” She lit out of the room.

He lit out with her, and within seconds had transformed into a hauling-ass peregrine falcon. She wasn't certain, but she thought she'd heard this was one of the fastest birds that existed. It wasn't a half-bad-looking animal, either. Its feathers were a blend of browns, tans, and black. Its eyes were striking, round, with large black pupils that seemed to take everything in. And when it stretched out its wings, it almost looked like it had leopard spots.

Della didn't know a whole lot about shape-shifters, but she'd heard once that one sign of their power was they could shift quickly. He'd shifted into a bird pretty damn quickly. Not that she was impressed or anything.

Sort of like flirting, Della Tsang didn't get impressed. Not about guys.

Not anymore.

Not since she'd turned vampire, turned cold, and had her heart shattered into tiny little bitty pieces by the guy who was supposed to love her forever.

*   *   *

Della landed with a thud on the pavement in the back of Walmart. Steve, still a bird, landed elegantly beside her. His wings stretched out wide.

Immediately, he started turning back into human form, and as always when a shifter turned, sparkly bubbles began floating around. One of his transformation bubbles lingering in the evening air popped on her arm and sent a tiny electric current up her elbow, zinging like she'd walked on carpet and then touched something metal.

“What are we doing here?” Steve asked, looking confused.

“Bedding and disinfectant.” She brushed off her elbow, then looked up. The sky was darkening, and the stars hadn't yet come out to play. Lifting her nose in the air, her vampire sense of smell caught the hint of werewolf under the strong scent of motor oil.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked.

“A few werewolves, but not too close.”

He frowned. “Damn, let's grab what you need, snag me a burger, and get the hell back.”

She smirked. “You scared of a couple of werewolves?”

“Scared, no. But we don't need any trouble right now.” He started walking.

She moved with him. “Sometimes trouble is fun.”

“Yeah, but let's save our energy for any trouble that finds us tomorrow.”

“Anyone ever accuse you of being boring?” she snipped.

“No, but I'll admit, I'm more of a lover than a fighter.”

She kept an eye on the dark shadows, making sure something didn't lurk there. “Please, that's so lame.”

“Lame, but true.” Humor sounded in his voice.

“I'll stick with lame,” she muttered.

She imagined him smiling again, but afraid she'd be pulled into his smile, she didn't chance looking at him. Hearing the laughter in his voice gave her stomach flutters. Or was she just hungry and needing some blood?

Entering the store, they made fast work of buying two flat sheets, a couple of pillowcases, two blankets, and some disinfectant. And Steve tossed in a bag of chips. At the fast-food place next door he got his burger to go, but he wolfed it down as they left the joint to find a desolate spot for him to transform so they could head back.

He'd finished the burger when they started down a dark alley behind the strip center. She noticed he stuffed the sandwich wrapper in his pocket. The guy didn't even litter, never mind the alley was covered in trash. They only got about ten feet down when they heard a scream.

A life-or-death-sounding scream.

 

Chapter Two

Della stopped, her gaze zipping around to locate the screamer. Steve jerked her into the dark shadows. A woman suddenly appeared at the other side of the alley running like the devil was chasing her. And he might've been, because someone slapped the pavement right on her heels.

A male someone.

“What are they?” Steve whispered, standing so close she could feel his words against her cheek.

They were too far away to note the pattern in their foreheads which marked a person's species—something all supernaturals could see—but Steve obviously trusted her sense of smell. She inhaled and tried to find the scents in the air besides the spicy male soap that filled her nose. “Humans.”

“Good.” He took off down the alley.

The girl screamed again as the attacker tackled her. Della, plastic bag in tow, beat Steve to the scuffle. The man on top of the female shifted back and forth, using the woman as a punching bag. Della snagged the creep off the obvious victim and tossed him a good five feet in the air. Not enough to kill him, but hopefully enough to hurt when he came down.

Blood oozed from the woman's nose and mouth. “You okay?” Della asked and crouched beside her. When the scent of blood filled her nose, Della had to work at not letting her eyes start to glow from hunger.

“Yeah.” The woman sobbed out the word. “He's my husband, but he's drunk.” She wiped blood from her lip. “He gets mean when he drinks.”

But he wasn't the only one drinking. Della could smell booze on the woman's breath.

“This wasn't your problem,” a deep voice seethed from behind Della. If she hadn't been so intent on the woman, she'd have heard him coming.

Della glanced up. Looming over them stood the drunk husband, who she obviously hadn't thrown nearly hard enough. Of course, that could be fixed.

He reached for Della, fury in his eyes and alcohol on his breath. “But you made it your problem now, bitch!”

Before she could shoot up, Steve caught the man by the arm and swung him around.

Fists started flying. Della heard what sounded like a few punches hitting bone. She could swear the jerk got a punch in on Steve. Bolting to her feet with plans to end the fight, Steve ended it first. He threw a hard right. The woman's dear old husband took that right directly to the face and fell over cold.

It would have been nice to savor the moment of success, but a pair of flashing blue police lights appeared at the end of the alley. Steve turned to Della. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

Della grabbed her bag and they took off at a sprint. In the distance she heard the cops yelling for everyone to stop. They didn't. They couldn't.

Burnett hadn't been specific about them not getting arrested, but she had a feeling he'd frown upon it.

“Police! I said stop,” the policeman yelled again. Footsteps echoed behind them, making their way down the alley.

They cut the corner into a side alley, and Della didn't know if they had time to get the hell out without the officers seeing their escape.

*   *   *

The refrigerator at the cabin didn't have an ice machine. She supposed she should be glad it had one ice tray with five pieces of ice in it. She emptied the five tiny cubes into a new pillowcase and handed it to Steve. His eye was almost swollen shut. “Hold it against your eye,” she said.

They'd gotten away from the police, but barely. She stared at Steve's injury.

“Why didn't you change into something and maul his ass?” she bit out.

“You don't transform in front of humans,” Steve said. “That's the number one shape-shifting rule.”

“I'd think the number one rule would be to protect yourself.”

“You'd think wrong,” Steve said.

She shook her head. “They were both drunk, who would've believed them?”

He cut his eyes up to her. “What about when the cops showed up?”

She frowned, seeing his point, but still not liking it. “Put the ice on your eye.” After a second she said, “So you're supposed to let them use you as a punching bag?”

Steve dropped the ice from his face. “He got one punch in, and who was the one on the ground when we left?”

Della groaned. “You should have let me handle him.”

Steve ignored her and reached up to touch his eye. “Hey … this will look good for tomorrow. I'm a badass shape-shifter, not afraid to fight.”

Della rolled her eyes at him the way Miranda rolled hers at everyone. “But you just broke one of Burnett's rules. You're gonna come back bruised.”

Steve grinned. “I'll tell him you did it.”

Della plopped down on the old pine chest that served as a coffee table. “He'd know that wasn't true, even if he couldn't hear your heart lie. If you pissed me off, I wouldn't have stopped at a black eye. You'd be black-and-blue all over.”

“Now that's just an outright lie. I don't think you'd hurt me.” His Southern accent came out again.

“And you'd be wrong.” She paused. “Where are you from?”

“Where do you think I'm from?” He smiled as if her question pleased him.

And she knew why. She'd shown some personal interest in him. She shouldn't have done that because he might think she actually liked him or something.

“I think you're from somewhere where they talk funny,” she smarted off, and shot up to get her blood from the refrigerator. She found a cup, rinsed it out—twice—poured her dinner into it, and sat down at the kitchen table.

He dropped into the second chair at the table. “I'm from Alabama. My parents dragged me to Dallas two years ago.”

“You don't like Texas?” she asked and frowned when she realized she'd done it again, shown a personal interest. Then again, maybe she should give herself a break—they were on a mission together, and she was pretending to be his girlfriend. If someone asked something, she should be able to answer it.

“Since I went to camp this last summer, I do. Before that … not really. The school in Dallas was some fancy prep school—not even for supernaturals. That school fit my parents' way of thinking and life, but I don't do fancy schools very well.”

She couldn't see him in one, either. Not that he didn't seem smart, he did. But he was just easier going than someone who wanted to put on airs.

A few more questions popped into her mind, but she hesitated to ask. She turned her cup in her hands.

The silence must have felt awkward to him as well, because he continued. “My dad's a lawyer and CEO for an oil company, Mom's a doctor. And I'm an only child who's not supposed to care what I want but just grow up, become what they want me to be, and make them look good in the human world.”

“They're shifters, too, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, but you'd hardly know it. I don't think my mom has shifted in a couple of years. Dad does it just to relieve stress, but they like living in the human world.”

“And you don't?” Della asked, thinking about how often she wished she could go back to the human world and be one of them. Sure, she appreciated the powers, loved knowing she could kick ass. But she wished that gaining these powers hadn't meant losing so much of her life. Or rather the people who were in her life.

“I don't want to run off and join a damn compound or anything, but I'm proud of what I am. I can abide by the rules, not exposing myself in front of humans. I don't have a problem with rules, but I don't want to hide from this part of myself.”

“I don't blame you.” She didn't think she could hide, either. Not now.

“I'm not really complaining about them,” he said. “I mean, as long as we don't have to see each other very often we forget that we're all disappointed in each other.”

She knew all about the feeling of disappointing your parents. Exhaling, she looked at the pillowcase, which was bunched up at the end and held the five pieces of ice. He'd brought it with him to the table, but wasn't using it. “You should use that. That's all the ice we have.”

He put it against his eye and stared at her with the other. “What's your story?”

“No story here,” she lied.

He leaned his chair back on two legs. With half his face hidden behind the hanging pillowcase, he looked accusingly at her with his uninjured eye. “Liar.”

She swallowed and stood, picking up her cup.

It didn't stop him from talking though. “You think I don't see you on parents' day? You look completely miserable when you see them come in.” He dropped the ice from his eye. “The only time you look more miserable is when you watch them leave.”