Saved at Sunrise (2 page)

“Not even in your dreams, bird boy!” she snapped.

“Ouch,” he said and chuckled. “I only meant your head at one end and mine at the other.
Only our feet would be touching.”

“So you’ve got a foot fetish, do you?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Humor brightened his eyes. With him positioned right in front of the bare window,
and the last rays of the setting sun beaming in, she got a good look at those eyes.
Were those flecks of amber and green in his brown pools?

His gaze lowered to her Nike-covered size sixes. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen your
naked feet.”

Hearing him say the word
naked
with what sounded like a deep Southern accent, deeper than Texas, made her stomach
flutter like she was twelve again and had never been kissed. Good Lord, what was wrong
with her? Since when did she find a Southern accent seductive?

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 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 to 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.”