down toward his chest. Mary’s cry painted the air—and that’s when the world seemed to break down into tiny little molecules. Something wild and hot and sharp lanced him in the middle. He detected flavors in the air. His senses were already extremely well-tuned, but they reached another level of accurate when her distress reached his ears. She’s in danger. They are putting her in danger.
In Tucker’s periphery, he saw that everything in the restaurant had lifted. Ketchup bottles, napkin holders, silverware. The milkshake machine was sputtering, shooting ice cream onto the atmosphere, white glops changing shape behind the counter like miniature ghosts. Plates of food rose from tables, every object hovering in the air, as if awaiting his command.
His fingertips buzzed.
And he had an uncharacteristic taste for violence.
A snarl curled his lip and he plucked the stake from the slayer’s hand, bringing the blunt end down hard on his head, rendering him unconscious. With one assailant down, he threw an elbow backward and shattered the cartilage of a nose. In the split second it took Tucker to deal with the second man, the third took a step in Mary’s direction and said, “There she is. Tilda’s brat,” sneered the slayer, eyes bright with fight-lust. “Your mother thinks she can switch allegiances so easily? She won’t for long. Time to send a little message.”
Every window in the diner blew out.
Car alarms screamed in the parking lot.
Everything that had been suspended in mid-air exploded, letting loose a deafening roar of breaking glass and debris landing on walls, the floor. The other customers in the diner dove out through the broken windows, the waitress following suit. And there was a part of Tucker that was alarmed by this side of himself—because it was definitely him commanding the objects. Projecting his outrage into the immediate area and causing destruction. It was all him.
Because Mary was under threat.
His hand shot out and caught the one who dared advance on her. Caught him around the neck and lifted him off the ground. He experienced a bloodlust like he’d never felt before and it would have been so easy, so easy to flick his wrist and end this sucker’s life. He deserved it for wanting to harm the girl. But Tucker saw Mary huddled beneath the table, his name on her trembling lips, and the ringing in his ears thinned, the taste for vengeance souring in his mouth.
Without taking his gaze from Mary, he threw the man headfirst through the blown-out window, already reaching for her. Lunging for the fairy and dragging her up into his arms. Holding her against his chest, crowned head tucked under his chin, ready to kill anyone who tried to take her. His boots crunched on glass as he stomped out of the diner and into the parking lot, his body shaking, blood dripping from his knuckles.
What was happening to him?
What was happening?
His instinct was to put her in his Impala and get the fuck out of there. But he must have retained some semblance of sanity, because he didn’t. No. He couldn’t. His car keys, all of her things, were still in the motel room next door.
Mary wrapped her arms around his neck more securely, her face pressed to his neck, and the hunger damn near brought him to his knees.
Nearly at the motel room door now, Tucker’s palm cradled the back of her head, massaging her skull gently. “Mary…”
“Uh-huh?” His fangs descended, his vision doubling. “What was that?”
“My fangs.” Tucker stroked her hair with more force than he should have, making her suck in a breath, her body turning tense in his arms. Cursing, he set her down outside the motel room door and fumbled with the lock. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t even been that long since the last time I fed.” His voice dropped. “It’s not usually like this.”
But there was a dawning sense of understanding in the back of his mind.
His new abilities. Abilities that only manifested with Mary in danger.
The unbelievable yearning for her blood.
Fate couldn’t be this cruel, could it?
As soon as they were in the motel room, shut away from potential human witnesses, Tucker set Mary down on the bed and let his vampiric speed kick in. He threw articles of clothing and toiletries into Mary’s suitcase, locked it and snatched up his keys. When he would have thrown Mary over his shoulder and got the hell out of Dodge, he skidded to a stop to find her blocking the door, her lips parted