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 was 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.