The Lunatic Cafe   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

He touched my cheek, fingers sliding just over the skin, a ghost of a touch that made me shiver. He traced the edge of the scrape. It hurt and I jerked away. A spot of blood decorated his fingertips, gleaming in the dome light. I watched his eyes stare at the blood. I saw the thought trail behind his true brown eyes. He almost licked his fingers clean, as Rafael had done. He wiped his fingers on his coat, but I'd seen the hesitation. He knew I'd seen it.

"Anita. ."

The back door opened, and I whirled, going for the last knife I had on me. The world swam in waves of blackness and nausea. The movement had been too abrupt. Stephen the Werewolf stood in the half-open door staring at me. He was sort of frozen there, blue eyes wide. He was looking at the silver knife in my hand. The fact that I'd been blind and too sick to use it seemed to have escaped him. It might have been that I was kneeling, moving towards him. I'd been willing to strike blind as a bat, not considering that whoever it was had a right to be there.

"You didn't tell me you brought someone with you," I said.

"I should have mentioned that," Richard said.

I relaxed, easing back to kneel in the seat. "Yeah, you should have mentioned that." The knife gleamed in the dome light. It looked razor sharp and well tended. It was.

"I was just going to check on Louie," Stephen said. He sounded a little shaky. He had a black leather jacket with silver studding snapped tight around his throat. His long, curling blond hair fell forward over the jacket. He looked like an effeminate biker.

"Fine," I said.

Stephen looked past me to Richard. I felt more than saw Richard nod. "It's okay, Stephen." There was something in his voice that made me turn slowly to look at him.

He had a strange look on his face. "Maybe you are as dangerous as you pretend to be."

"I don't pretend, Richard."

He nodded. "Maybe you don't."

"Is that a problem?"

"As long as you don't shoot me, or my pack members, I guess not."

"I can't promise about your pack."

"They're mine to protect," he said.

"Then make sure they leave me the hell alone."

"Would you fight me over that?" he asked.

"Would you fight me?"

He smiled, but it wasn't happy. "I couldn't fight you, Anita. I could never hurt you."

"That's where we're different, Richard."

He leaned in as if to kiss me. Something on my face stopped him. "I believe you."

"Good," I said. I slipped the knife back in its sheath. I stared at his face while I did it. I didn't need to look to put the knife away.