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.
His own spine felt ready to snap over the word bride.
“We’ll talk about that later, too,” Tucker rasped.
“Obviously we need to speak in person. I’m coming to you.” Footsteps echoed down the line. “There’s a safe house near you. In Lock Haven. Bring the girl there. I’ll meet you.”
Tucker hand twisted on the steering wheel. “I can’t do that.”
Jonas didn’t respond right away. “You don’t trust me?”
The hurt in his best friend’s tone made his stomach feel full or rocks. He had no reason not to trust the king. Jonas had been the one to give him a purpose when he’d been at loose ends. He’d bestowed more trust on Tucker over the years than could be quantified and it pained Tucker that he couldn’t do the same now. “I’m sorry, but…she’s going to seal an alliance between the uprising and the fae. She puts your throne in jeopardy. It’s in your best interest to make sure she never arrives.”
The footsteps slowed. “Elias said you wouldn’t actually bring her.”
“Things have changed.”
“What things?” Jonas’s tone had more steel in it now. Still, Tucker refrained from answering. “Go to the safe house. You have my word I won’t interfere.”
He could almost see the foundation of their friendship crumbling in front of his very eyes and he was seconds from sealing the deal when Mary laid a hand on his wrist. “It’s okay. Do what he says.”
Tucker swallowed a shard of glass. “Fine. Tomorrow night.”
They hung up without a goodbye.
Chapter 7
Mary had been kept indoors for a long time, but she still remembered the constant sense vulnerability of being among people with eyesight. Being blind meant never truly feeling one hundred percent involved with the world around her. Other people were running it. They were doing so in deference to people with working eyes, making her an outsider. There was always a chance she was missing something. Or that she was in potential danger without realizing it.
One year, while growing up in the commune, the elders had decided to observe Christmas. More for their own amusement than anything else. Decorating the communal tree was the first time Mary acknowledged the deck was stacked against her. She’d been more than capable of hanging ornaments on branches during the trimming ceremony, but the other children kept moving them. Either she’d put them too close to another one. Or she’d put it in a section that was already heavy with shiny baubles and balls. Her efforts could be erased for being imperfect without even an explanation even being offered. As if she didn’t warrant one.
With Tucker at her side, there was no question she was physically safe. But she couldn’t help the feeling that he was currently spinning a different reality.
Moving ornaments without explanations.
She’d never felt anything like the blast of Tucker’s rage in the diner.
More than that, she’d never experienced anything like her reaction to it.
In the midst of his primal outrage, her fingers had curled into the tile floor, mouth drying up. She’d listened to his grunts of pain and growls of aggression, the shocking blows of his fists connecting to bone, his enemies crying out in pain…and she’d grown oddly restless. In a way that wasn’t familiar.
The tips of her breasts were still sensitive an hour later. The wet material of her underwear was adhering to her sex, making it necessary to keep her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. Not only to shield her embarrassing response to being protected by Tucker, but to keep from reaching over and stroking his skin. His face, his shoulders, his thighs.
Surely she should have only felt fear back at the diner.
Not fear with a slick coat of arousal on top.
It wasn’t unusual for her to intercept a being’s mood. To have an emotional experience alongside them, like mirth or sadness. But she usually had to search for it. Concentrate and seek it out. She wasn’t seeking this out whatsoever, so it couldn’t be coming from Tucker, could it?
No, this was her. Not her empathy or ability to read energy.
Mary twined her fingers more tightly together. Touch was something she valued above everything. Without the use of her fingertips, she wouldn’t be able to feel her way down hallways or recognize the texture of her favorite jeans or read. When she needed to puzzle something out, she touched it. And so with Tucker behaving so oddly and clearly keeping things from her, the instinct to touch was fierce.
“We should be there in a few minutes,” Tucker said, the low register of his voice making her tingle in strange places, like her thighs and lips. “We’ll stay here a night or two, as long as it’s safe. We’re not that far from Hadrian’s manor, but you’re not due for a while and…” Suddenly he seemed unsure. “You still want to cross those items off your list, right?”
“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.”