“Yes.”
A beat passed. “With me?”
Mary frowned. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It got a pretty violent back there.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight. “I just want you to feel safe.”
“It got violent because you were protecting me,” she pointed out.
He cleared his throat. “I guess even after all this time, I’m not used to the violence that comes with being this way. I mean, hell, I grew up pudgy with a smart mouth, so I’ve been in my share of fist fights. Mostly happened when they’d make fun of my father. A black eye now and then was par for the course.” He paused. “But those fights weren’t about killing.”
“Did you kill any of the slayers tonight?”
“I wanted to, Mary. One of them went for you. If he’d gotten one more step…”
Mary realized she was leaning closer and closer to Tucker and snapped back into her seat, clasped hands pressing, pressing so tightly to the hem of her dress. Was it normal to be so turned on by a male’s protectiveness? Every time his hand creaked on the steering wheel from leftover frustration or his chest rumbled, a surge of heat flooded her.
He’d have killed for her. And she’d never believed herself to be the slightest bit barbaric, but something about how feral he’d been tonight made her feel coveted and achy. Having Tucker as her guardian had been right since she’d sensed him in Enders. She’d actually heard the word guardian in the back of her mind, warm and golden and true. Now there was this…this need on top of her affection for him that seemed to be growing with every passing minute.
“Why is your pulse beating so fast?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Were you lying about me scaring you?”
“No. No, that’s not it. I promise.”
“Mary.” When she didn’t answer, she heard the tick tock of his turn signal, felt the car bump over the lane dividers. And then the car started to slow until it stopped completely. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s embarrassing,” she whispered.
“Oh.” His hand settled on her shoulder. “Do you have your period?”
“No!” Lava coated her face. “Fae don’t get periods.”
“Really. You learn something new every day.” He massaged the place where his hand touched and Mary felt a moan building in her throat. “Hey come on, I told you I grew up pudgy? They made me play a whale in a church production of Jonah and the Whale. I had to make the sounds and everything. Pretend to swallow a skinny kid. Your thing can’t be as bad as that.”
A half-sob, half-laugh sound fell from her mouth. “I don’t know how to describe it, because it’s never happened before, but…” She wet her lips nervously. “I got some…feelings tonight when you were defending me. And they’ve lasted for an uncomfortably long time.”
The air in the car turned charged. “What sort of feelings?”
“The not good kind.”
“Okay. Would you mind if I confirmed that?”
“Maybe I’m not a decent person after all. Here you are, torn up over having to commit violence and I’m…w-well, I liked you defending me. A lot.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I feel sensitive.”
The hand on her shoulder had stopped moving. “Where?”
Mary shook her head vigorously.
“It could be adrenaline,” Tucker said, his voice scraping like metal spikes on asphalt. “It’s not unusual to experience a spike in…energy. After a fight. Or being scared.”
“Wouldn’t it have gone away by now?”
“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.” He cursed under his breath. “Jesus, I’m really betraying how little I know about women, aren’t I? I haven’t got a clue what’s going on here, Mary. You have to be blunt.”
The need to touch, be touched, turned demanding. Touch was her most vital sense and she’d been staving off the instinct to touch him for the last couple of hours, turning her into a shaken soda bottle. Pressure throbbed in her fingertips, along with other more private parts of her anatomy and she found herself reaching up to capture Tucker’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. As soon as they were skin to skin, boldness snuck past her shyness to take the lead. This was Tucker. They may have only been acquainted a short time, but she had full confidence he wouldn’t judge her. That he would be understanding.
That he’d enjoy putting his hands on her.
Mary pressed Tucker’s palm against her cheek, rubbing against the coarseness there. His fingers jumped a little, then settled, his thumb brushing the underside of her jaw. That wasn’t where she craved touch, though. Or not the only place. So she bit her bottom lip and slowly dragged his hand down her throat and collarbone, settling it on her breast.
A bolt of sharp heat rocked Mary and she gasped, her head falling back against the rest.
“Please…”
“Ah, Jesus. Mary…” His voice was bottom-of-the-barrel low. Shaking. “I thought maybe…maybe you were turned on, but I had to be wrong…”