Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Yes, from out of nowhere—
I can’t believe it, either—
I’m so lucky to be alive!
As with the smile she put on her face when it was time for the pictures, she made sure to inject the enthusiasm that was expected, and she was amazed at how good she was at faking this version of herself. The truth behind the branding, though, was that only one thing was on her mind.
What had he looked like?
How could she not picture that man’s face? This monumental thing had happened to her, this shocking, near-death, close call—and if he hadn’t shown up when he did, she wouldn’t be—
“Smile!”
On command, Lyric focused on the iPhone and followed directions as she felt a woman lean in and fly the peace sign.
“—and then he came out of nowhere!” The brunette made twin kapows next to her temples. “I was there! I saw it and I posted it, too. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“I know, right?” Lyric went jazz hands. “Amazing.”
The young woman danced off, and Lyric went right back down below the surface, replaying the events again, a video on repeat—except it was something she’d lived through.
What color hair had he had? What about his eyes…? He hadn’t been wearing a coat, in spite of the cold, that much she was sure of.
“—sign this eye palette?”
Lyric came to. “Yes, of course!”
With a smile that didn’t show her fangs, she turned to the waist-high table that had been brought over. As she uncapped a Sharpie and scribbled her name by the Trash Panda logo, she knew for certain the guy hadn’t been wearing a coat, because she had a clear recollection of him going over and picking it up from where it’d been laid on some steps.
A t-shirt, plain, under a bib with reflective safety panels, had been the only thing he’d had on.
Well, that and a crapload of muscle.
“—I mean, can you believe it? You could have been killed!”
“I know.” Lyric recapped the pen and held out the palette with more smiling. “It’s one of the most miraculous things that has ever happened to me.”
The redhead lingered, taking the makeup and holding it to her heart. “To anybody!”
Over at the front of the line, where the snaking ropes ended, the next set of women chimed in with agreement—
Marcia stepped up again and smiled with all her professional happy-happy. “Okay, let’s keep the line moving—”
That was when Lyric saw the disruption, in the main part of the club on the far side of the VIP area’s velvet rope. Bodies were agitating, getting out of the way of something that was moving fast—and then whatever it was hit the tuxedo’d gatekeepers.
And didn’t give two shits about pissing them off.
She knew before she knew. She felt before she saw.
There Qhuinn was, taller than all the humans around him, but standing out for so much more than that height. Like there was anybody else in the club with spiked black hair, piercings on his face and ears, and an expression that made clear a decision to get in his path was going to be a mortal one?
Breaking out of her own lineup, Lyric rushed forward, high-stepping over the golden rope that cordoned off the riser and then jumping down. She almost lost a stiletto as she broke into all the people snaking down the aisle between the sunken seating areas, the collective gasping and flashes from camera phones disorientating her as hands with painted nails reached out for her arms, and women tried for selfies that were going to show just a blur of her.
Marcia hollered something, but that was in the background.
All Lyric cared about was getting to her—
“Father!” she whispered as suddenly Qhuinn was in front of her.
Jumping up, she hugged him hard enough to squeeze the breath out of a lesser male’s chest, but it didn’t matter. Her blooded sire was as he had always been, an absolute pillar, unbending, unrelenting. A superhero.
“Are you okay,” he said in a low voice.
She held on even harder. “I am now.”
As more pictures were taken, Lyric just lowered her face into his broad shoulder. The smell of leather, gunmetal, and the aftershave he always wore was the security blanket she needed. It was as if all the years he had ever been there for her coalesced into a tangible energy source that reinflated her with strength.
Sometimes a girl just needed her dad.
* * *
Shuli re-formed in the alley next to Bathe at the exact time Rhampage, Lyric’s fraternal twin, did the same. The other male was likewise dressed for the war, his black hair messed up out of its expensive cut, his handsome-as-a-devil face screwed down tight with stress, all kinds of black leather hiding all kinds of weapons. Given the lack of baby powder scent floating over on the cold breeze, the guy hadn’t found any of the enemy in the territory he’d covered yet—