tall and wearing a Syracuse baseball cap, his big body at ease—even as his eyes made the rounds of the diner like he was expecting to maybe, possibly, only-if-it-was-necessary attack an aggressor.
As they both focused on her, Helania’s first thought was What would Isobel do? And the answer to that was obvious: Her sister would have jumped out of the booth, rushed up to them, hugged them even though they were strangers, and brought them back so she could commence becoming their best friend and confidante.
Okay, right . . . when Helania considered pulling off that dance card, she had to go hell-no on all of those moves. For godsakes, she was so nervous, she would probably trip and fall on her face if she tried to slide out of this seat. And then before she could think of a B plan, the couple waved and started to head down the way.
Swallowing hard, Helania eyed the glass window next to her. She could always just dematerialize out. Leave them to clean up the human memories. Go back to her apartment and never try this kind of thing again.
Ever.
Except then she realized something. It wasn’t about what Isobel would do.
It was a question of what Helania would do. And just because she couldn’t come on strong and be insta-buddies with two people she didn’t yet know, this did not mean she had failed some kind of test. It was also not a moral condemnation of her shy nature.
When the couple arrived at the table, she took a deep breath. And then, in a surprisingly calm and level voice, she said, “Hi, I think we’re having a meal together? I’m Helania.”
With a feeling of dread, she waited to see what they would do—
The female smiled and scooted into the booth on the other side.
“We are so happy to meet you! I’m Paradise, and this is my hellren, Craeg. Boone’s had the best things to say about you.”
“Yup,” the male agreed. “He’s wild about you.”
Paradise gave her male a look. “Let’s not make her feel weird—”
“I’m just saying.” Craeg shrugged. “Come on, leelan, he’s like I was with you. And there’s nothing wrong with her knowing it, either.”
Paradise looked across the table and smiled. “Listen, if we just blew Boone’s cover, we’ll apologize to him later. But it’s true. He seemed really excited when he texted us you were coming.”
“Lots of emojis.” Craeg took a drink of his water. “And he never does emojis.”
As Ruth arrived with the coffee and some menus, Helania felt her eyes sting with tears again. Blinking quickly, she exhaled in relief . . . and happiness.
Check her out. Meeting people. Making friends, possibly. And waiting for a guy who was “wild” about her.
All in all, the night couldn’t be going better.
As dull knives went, the assailant’s weapon of choice did a bang-up job. Well, slice-up job was more like it. Not to put too fine a point on things.
Har-har, hardy har-har.
And what do you know, Boone figured he must be feeling a little better if he were able to make bad jokes to himself. The human male, on the other hand, was feeling so much worse, for so many different reasons. Although, given the way that his chest was no longer going up and down, one could assume that he wasn’t feeling anything anymore.
Over so soon, Boone thought as he eased back from his kill. But he’d had to work fast—and now there was a lot of mess to clean up. So much red in the snow, so much red on the man’s skin, so much red—
Boone looked up. The entire dead end of the alley was bathed in a red glow, the strange light illuminating the wall, the backs of the buildings, the trash that had accumulated and been snowed upon . . . as well as the woman who was where Boone had left her, crouched down, tucked in, holding her palms against both her eyes.
Jumping to his feet, he switched the crappy knife into his other hand and unsheathed one of his guns with his fighting palm. The eerie illumination was radiating out of the depths of the shadows about thirty feet away, from two laser points—
The scent of a male vampire came to him on the cold breeze, and Boone frowned. “Who goes there. Identify yourself or I’ll give you a name you won’t like—”
“Tough talk from a trainee.”
Boone lowered his gun. He recognized that voice. Recognized the scent, too. And more than both