“And that’s your argument?” His eyes held a dangerous glint.
She scowled, annoyed at herself. But he scrambled her neurons with this unexpected side, acting like she mattered.
“Yes, it certainly is. Why the hell did you lick me?”
“Because those scourges were blood-demons. Your blood would have drawn more of the fuckers. I licked your injury because healing with my restorative ability would have taken time, which I didn’t have!”
Oh. Kira’s face heated in embarrassment, and that twisty feeling in her stomach since the incident withered and died. “Well…” She sniffed. “Don’t do it again. I don’t like you touching me.”
He dropped her wrist so fast, as if she were a disease-ridden rodent. “Now answer the damn question. What kind offriend…”—his tone dropped to lovely glacial levels—“led you into those alleyways?”
She cradled her discarded hand against her chest, wanting so badly to rub away his touch, which left her utterly unsettled. With no other way out, and quite sure he’d just keep her there until she was old and gray if she didn’t answer, she blurted, “A boy at The Shelter ran off because I couldn’t get there to see him for a few days.”
Týr stared at her for a terse second. Then he shook his head as if in disbelief. “Of course—”
“What do you mean,of course?” One little untruth, and he thought everything she said was a lie? She glowered at him.
“So, you’re his angel.”
“Huh?”
He appeared amused at whatever he’d discovered. “Tomas. It’s what he calls you.”
Kira’s mouth dropped open. He could have hit her with a dead rat. “You know Tomas?”
A brief nod. “Seen the boy around during patrol. Saw him tonight. He spoke of his angel, whom he’s going to marry.”
Týr’s words sank in. Oh, no. Oh, crap!Finally, she understood why Tomas had been so upset earlier. In the dark, he’d probably thought Týr was kissing her, not licking her wounded face to heal it. The difference probably wouldn’t matter to a boy with a crush. Dammit, how could she have been so blind?
“I have to go.” She spun for the door and found her way blocked. Ugh, the damn man moved too freakin’ fast.
“You aren’t going into any of those alleys again.” The hard smile was back as if to say,go ahead, test me.
She scowled.
Týr cocked a brow. “Since when do you rescue or care about street kids? I thought quenching the alcoholic thirst of humans was your job.”
Did he think her a ditz because she often changed her hair color, read romance novels, and didn’t have aseriousjob? Is that why he called her Fluff?
Choking down her resentment, Kira deliberately gave an airy shrug and started inspecting her blunt nails, the fury for reprisal burning her stomach. “I don’t. He’s a vagrant. Dirty…” She shuddered. “Loitering’s not allowed either in the front or back of the Peacock Lounge. So, I got The Shelter to take him away.”
“Reeeally?”
He packed so much sarcasm into those few syllables, Kira cast him an innocent look. “What?”
Týr closed the small space between them. She hastily stepped back. His palms dropped to the wooden counter on either side of her. His masculine scent and body heat wrapped around her, scattering her thoughts like dandelion seeds in the wind.
“So, why the urgency to find him if you don’t care about adirty,vagrantkid?”
At his cool stare, Kira blinked, then glared right back. Refusing to show how his nearness affected her, she lied, “I don’t want him back at the bar. He’s a nuisance, okay?”
“Why the interest in Tomas, Kira?”
Darn. He wasn’t going to budge.
She recalled the day four months ago when she’d found the boy huddled near the dumpster behind the Peacock Lounge, sheltering himself from the downpour. He’d foraged scraps of food from the garbage and clutched it to his drenched chest. When he looked up at her and smiled despite his awful situation, something inside her melted.
Sighing, she gave up the pretense. “Because I heard whispers at The Shelter of children disappearing, never to be seen again—not even on the streets. I don’t want anything to happen to him, okay?”
