Earth Warden (2 page)

"Your coffee, sir," she announced as she set the tray on the table.

He didn't move, and Lyssa frowned. Had he gone to sleep, or was he just ignoring her? Then he opened his eyes and reached forward to wrap his hand around the mug with a grunt. Irritation surged through her when no other reply seemed forthcoming.

"Would you like anything else with that?" she asked.
Like maybe a personality transplant?

"No, thank you. I like my personality just fine, thanks," he drawled, a sardonic tone in his deep voice.

Ohmigod, please tell me I didn't say that out loud
.

Lyssa's heart stopped, the color fleeing her face as she opened her mouth and nothing but a strangled croak emerged. Embarrassment burning across her cheeks she finally managed to snap her lips shut and scurry to safety.

Chapter Two

Hawk's lips quirked in amusement as the waitress fled, grabbing a spray bottle and a cloth to attack the already spotless tables. He really should tell her she hadn't said that aloud, that her mind had been clear and focused enough for moment. Enough to allow him to pick the thought clean out of her head.

Still, she was a puzzle. Her thoughts were too clear and precise for her to be a pure-human. Their minds were a cluttered mess, a thousand things going off at once in their heads. He didn’t know how they managed to think at all given the noise their minds created.

Hawk frowned as he looked at the sugar, then sighed and pulled the coffee closer. He reached into his inside pocket for a small vial. Hesitating for a moment, he emptied the contents into the mug and watched as the fluid—an earthy, apple green—swirled and disappeared into the darkness of the coffee. His last healing potion, saved for an emergency. He seriously needed the shit not to hit the fan now. Not until he could find another Haven and hit them up for supplies. The way his luck was running recently though, he wouldn’t hold his breath.

Picking up the doctored coffee, he took a swallow then grimaced as the bitter taste hit his sensitive palate. Determined, he carried on drinking, ignoring the small flash as the empty vial lost its form and was absorbed back into the witching. Usually he took his coffee laced with milk and sugar, but both would interfere with the potion, so he had to suffer the bitterness.

They did say that the best medicine tasted the worst, and if this got him back on his feet and combat capable, then he would live with it. After another long swallow, Hawk sighed in relief, his eyes half-closed as he felt the wounds start to close.

Did he have time for another mug? This time with sugar and cream to wash the bitter taste away, and perhaps even a pastry... As soon as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He'd been bleeding, and even though the potion had closed his wounds, he had blood on his clothes. Blood that would act as a beacon to every vampire and flesh-eating demon and other nasty in the area, not to mention relatives of the Keres demons he’d wasted. He might as well put a flashing light on his head and a sign around his neck that said,
All you can eat buffet
.

Cradling the mug in his hand, he glanced at the liquid left inside. He’d have to make it last as long as he could, then move on and find someplace to sleep. Somewhere that didn’t have a dawn chorus like this morning. He was tired. No, make that exhausted. No fool, and he’d long since grown out of the
I am invincible
stage most warriors went through. He was dog-tired, clawed up, and in a mood. And if he didn’t get a decent night’s sleep tonight, his next fight might well be his last.

The waitress with the sassy turn of thought was by the door, still scrubbing the tables and trying to pretend she wasn't watching him. Deliberately, Hawk caught her eye, grinning when she flushed and looked away. His gaze wandered, taking in the curve of her ass as she bent over the table.

She was slender but not skinny. His gaze travelled up the seductive line of her spine and latched onto the thin sliver of skin that showed between her T-shirt and her trousers. Then he saw, it and the world stopped.

Half hidden under the fabric was a small tattoo. An unmistakable tattoo. Not the sort of tattoo one could wander into any tattoo parlor and pick. It was the sort of tattoo one had to be born into a certain sort of family to have. Less a form of body art, it was more a permanent, magical protection. The sort of tattoo a Warden, the wizards of the paranormal world, wore. Which meant his sassy little waitress was just the sort of woman Hawk was looking for. On more than one level.

He studied her movements over the rim of his mug. Warden blood explained the color of her eyes. Although they looked, walked and talked human, Wardens were born with the ability to manipulate the witching, the magical layer in everything. Calling a Warden human was like calling a lion a house-cat. Same basic description, but he wouldn’t like to tease one with a ball of string.

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.

“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.