And then?—
The chaos of his thoughts and feelings fades. It happens quickly but doesn’t feel abrupt.
His emotions taper off until I can’t sense them anymore, and his features settle into quiet contemplation.
I nearly miss a step.
A second ago, I could read him clearly, but now his feelings are locked away so tightly that they’re a mystery to me.
I’m unsettled by it.
And also… strangely calmed by it.
It’s rare for me to stand so near to someone and not be assailed by their emotions.
Even the woman in the park, whose supernatural status was somehow obscured from me, could not conceal her emotions, her pain and grief.
But from Striker, all I sense is a perfect calm.
I reach the opposite side of the table, focused solely on his quiet breathing while the other patrons give me final glances now that it appears I’ve reached my destination and their conversations with each other resume.
Striker’s peaceful breaths feel like a serene anchor.
He greets me with a respectful nod. “Fury.”
It pleases me that he chooses to call me what I am, but I’m determined not to show it.
My voice is as quiet as his breathing, as non-confrontational as I can make it. “Hellhound, why are you here?”
Why has he come here to surround himself with men whose misdeeds I will inevitably punish?
I wish I could discern his thoughts to be certain—in fact, if it weren’t for the intensity of his emotions before, I could have already—but now all I have are his facial expressions and body language.
His expression changes subtly, the slightest rise of his eyebrows and purse of his lips, as if my question surprised him. Perhaps he assumed I would have raided his thoughts to know the answer already.
I should have.Wouldhave, but the intense flood of his emotions sent my power into a spin.
“I’m meeting someone here,” he says. “Someone I’m hoping will agree to peace.”
I tilt my head, my voice curious. “You seek peace, hellhound?”
His gaze is clear, and his speech unhurried. “It’s the only way I can protect the people I care about.”
Including you.
His thought enters my mind so softly that I could believe it was my own. Whatever shield he’s using to cover his emotions, he either allowed that single intention to filter through, or it was so strong it pushed through all on its own.
“I’m not in need of protection,” I whisper, although I’m not offended.
He gives me a crooked smile. “I don’t doubt it.”
With a meaningful glance at the surrounding tables filled with dangerous men, I say, “If peace is what you seek, I’m surprised you thought to find it here.”
It looks as if he’s about to say something more, but his focus flies to the door behind me, seeming to sense at the exact same moment as I do that a powerful being is about to enter the restaurant.
A man who is definitely not human.
I half-turn to consider the supernatural who looms within the entrance before he allows the door to shut behind himself.
