Wicked
Page 15

"Streets are dead, aren't they?" I asked as a guy bumped into my shoulder.
He nodded. "I heard that you said a fae shot you," he said, and I cursed under my breath. Harris must've talked because I doubt David would have. Me trying to cover up what happened didn't help if someone else was talking. I wanted to do what David had ordered and keep my mouth shut and all, but I couldn't help thinking it was wrong and put other Order members at risk.
Screw it.
I faced Trent. "It was a fae who shot me, and I'm sure you also heard that it made a gun appear out of thin air. It wasn't a normal fae, Trent. I stabbed it with iron and it did nothing."
His lips twitched as he looked over my head and at the screen behind the bar. "That sounds . . . batshit crazy. Like as crazy as Merle sounds."
I stiffened as if cement had been dropped down my spine. I felt a lot of sympathy for that woman. A huge part of me . . . well, I could understand her, and I didn't like hearing anyone talk like that about her.
"That's ignorant," I said, my voice calm even though I was seconds from introducing his face to the power of my uppercut. "She was a member of the Order, and you should respect everything that woman has sacrificed."
Trent tipped his head back and laughed through his nose. "With or without my respect, that doesn't change the fact that she's crazy." Shaking his head, his gaze flipped to mine then dropped to my chest. "Man, I gotta say, it was a bad idea when the Order started allowing females in. You guys just can't handle—"
I didn't even think.
Grasping his shoulders with both hands, I leveraged myself as I brought my knee up and forward, slamming it between his knees. Air punched out of his lungs, along with a harsh curse. Letting go of his shoulders, I stepped back with a smile as he doubled over.
"Handle that, asshole." Then I spun on my heel and practically flounced out of the bar.
I was definitely going to get yelled at for that if Trent ratted me out, but whatever lecture I'd be facing was so worth it. What a freaking pig. The sad thing was a lot of the guys in the Order felt that way. Idiots.
The sun had long since gone down, and the scent of rain clung to the air as I headed toward Jackson Square. I needed to call it a night, pick up some beignets, and head back home. I crossed the intersection, and as I glanced to my left, I came to a complete stop in the middle of the street.
Holy crap.
There, right in the middle of Orleans Avenue, was the fae from last night. I couldn't believe it, but it was him. My heart kicked in my chest as I veered to the left, hitting the sidewalk and sticking close to the buildings.
He was standing with his side to me, out in front of the cigar shop. A human male was with him, and it was just the massive size of the fae that made the human look like a strong wind could blow him the rest of the way to the square. He was strung out, frail, and sickly looking as he stood beside the fae, itching at the skin above the day's growth of beard. The fae who shot me turned, his back to me, and the human tried to follow but stumbled off the curb and fell, cracking his knees on the road.
That was the effect of a fae feeding off a mortal's essence, slowing stripping away their life until nothing but dust and bones was left behind.
The fae didn't even look back at the mortal as he started walking down Orleans, toward Royal. I picked up my pace as the guy managed to stand. Disoriented, he turned in a wide circle until he spotted the fae several feet ahead. He lurched after him like a lost puppy—an unfed, flea-infested puppy.
So incredibly wrong.
Fury rose in me as swiftly as a fierce storm blowing in. My hands curled into fists, and my blood boiled with anger. My entire being was focused on the bastard as I stalked forward. I made it a couple of feet when something—a person—stepped out from between two buildings and grabbed a hold of me.
An arm curled around my stomach, just below my breasts, securing my arms to my sides. I was up and off the sidewalk in a nanosecond, taken into the narrow pathway between the two buildings. A hand clamped down on my mouth. Instinct kicked in, and I brought my knees up, planning to throw my weight forward.
"I wouldn't do that," said a low, deep voice directly in my ear. "I'm going to put you down, and you're not going to spin around and punch or kick me. You understand?"
How was I supposed to voice my understanding? His hand was over my mouth!
"Come on, Merida. Nod your head if you feel me."
Who in the hell was Merida? It didn't matter. All I needed was for him to let me go, and I wasn't going to punch or kick him. I was going to beat the living crap out of him. I nodded.
"I'm trusting you. The last thing I want to see is for you to hurt yourself," he said.
Oh, someone was going to be hurting, and it wasn't going to be me.
A second later, the arm around my upper stomach disappeared and so did the hand. Without hesitation, I spun around and looked up into a pair of startling emerald colored eyes.
Chapter Four
It was him. Green Eyes. Ren. That was his name. Now I remembered. I started to step forward, but he beat me to it. Moving as quickly as a damn snake striking, he caught my wrists. He didn't yank my arms to my sides. All he did was hold my fists away from his face.
A lopsided grin appeared on those full lips. "Can't say I'm entirely surprised you took a swing at me."
"Then I guess this won't surprise you either." Leaning back, I shifted my weight onto my left leg, but again, Ren outmaneuvered me with a quickness that was sort of embarrassing.