The tone washed over her, warming her where she’d been cold. “It was four against one.”
By the tightening of his chiseled jaw, he didn’t like that answer. “You’re not adding up for me.”
Aye, that made sense. She sat up and looked around. Cheap but clean hotel room where they probably couldn’t be traced. “Are we still in Scotland?” she asked, her mind way too slow to process information.
“Yes,” Logan said, peering closer. “What’s up with your eyes?”
“One contact to make them match.” She rubbed them. Like most Fae, her eyes were two different colors. She had one blue eye and one green.
“Hmm. I like these better than the matching set. They’re pretty.”
A warmth spread through her extremities to her abdomen. She cleared her throat. “Is this place safe?”
“Not for long. If you’d like to transport us out of here, I wouldn’t mind.”
She shoved her hair away from her face. “I wish.”
Those dangerous eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
The male had saved her, so he was entitled to some information. “The blaster. For lack of a better description, it fried my circuits.” She ran a trembling hand down her scraped knee.
His chin lifted. “It destroys your ability to teleport?”
She nodded. “For about a week. It’s one of our earliest weapons, actually. Since all of us can teleport.” It was surprising that the demons or even other immortal species hadn’t developed something similar through the years. Too busy concentrating on guns, probably. “So. This is a fine mess.” She threw up her hands.
His eyebrows rose. “Isn’t it, though?” He sat back and extended his long—very long—legs to cross those huge boots at the ankles. “We were just attacked by fairies.”
“Fae,” she corrected automatically. “We’re pretty dangerous, you know.”
“I noticed,” he said dryly. “Want to explain why your own people tried to hurt you?”
How much should she reveal? He and she were most likely enemies, even though he’d fought like the warrior he was rumored to be to shield her. “Why did you protect me?” she asked.
He blinked. “We were attacked. I defended. It’s that simple.”
Nothing was ever that simple. The many dossiers she’d read on him showed he was driven by duty, but they hadn’t revealed the intensity with which he performed. The pictures hadn’t done his spectacular eyes justice, either. She cleared her throat. Concentrate. “Thank you for your assistance,” she said, rather primly.
His expression didn’t change. “It’s time you started explaining.”
That’s what she was afraid of. Mustering a calm she didn’t possess, she began to stand. “So. I should be going.”
“You won’t make it to the door.” His gritty tone remained nicely casual.
Well, she had been hit with a blaster. But he’d been stun-gunned about seven times, shot twice, and taken numerous punches from trained assassins. “You sure about that?” she chirped.
“Yes.”
She sat back down. Her fighting skills were about average, truth be told. His? His were more impressive than she’d ever seen. Fast and brutal with a chilling precision. “Surely, you must see that we should separate.”
He smiled then, the sight both deadly and enchanting. How was that possible? “Start talking, Mercy.”
She’d initially argued with her leaders that telling the Seven the truth would be their best path to success. She’d been shot down. “My people weren’t trying to hurt me. They just wanted to take me, and since I’m pretty good at teleporting, they took that ability away.”
“I thought you all could teleport.”
She nodded. “We can, but some of us are stronger at it.” She rubbed her nose. How did she explain this? “Okay. Demons jump through dimensions and always end up somewhere they’ve seen or been on Earth, right?”
He nodded.
