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“Make me,” he hissed.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
The stranger placed his free hand on my attacker’s forehead, still holding him aloft. He whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Sandy-hair screamed in agony. His body blurred. A second head twisted, separated from the first.
What the fuck?
The second one was malformed and hideous with deep-set eyes, no nose at all, and gnashing fangs. The stranger pulled the monstrous head, slowly ripping a writhing, ghastly creature from inside Sandy-hair, letting the human host slump to the pavement.
The monster screeched and hissed as my dark rescuer chanted inaudible words. Tiny hairs on my arms rose with a rippling chill. An aura of flickering golden light swept wide above his head and shoulders, beaming off his back.
I rubbed my eyes, certain that I’d been slipped some mind-altering drugs in the club. He whispered more vehemently, words I couldn’t quite hear in another language, though they sounded familiar.
The creature screamed, twisted, unable to free itself. The size of a small child with bony, spindly limbs and gnashing teeth, the thing beat and scratched and clawed the air. I heard the final words of the creature’s captor, his aura flickering like a wisp of flame.
“Go back to hell.”
In a bright flash of reddish-gold light, the beast disintegrated into smoke and powdery black ash. A strange smell—sulfuric, acidic—wafted into the air, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue.
My rescuer dusted his hands off on his jeans, totally calm and collected. He sighed, walked over to Sandy-hair, and checked his pulse. A sharp nod, then he walked toward me, where I still sat against the wall, wondering if I was dreaming or having some incredibly realistic nightmare.
Squatting in front of me, he lifted my chin, examining my throat.
“How do you feel?”
I blinked, trying to ignore the heated sensation of his touch on my skin and wondering if I’d truly lost my mind.
“Well, I was nearly choked to death, and I just saw you pull a monster out of another man, then use some voodoo-mojo or something to crush it into dust.” I stopped to cough, rubbing my throat, my voice raspy. “I’m feeling fine. How are you?”
I knew I should be a little less snarky to the guy who just saved my life, but what an insane question. His extremely distracting lips lifted into a smile.
“Better, then.” He grinned. “Good.”
He had some sort of accent, but I couldn’t place it. I took advantage of our proximity to examine him closer. Above his top button, below his collarbone, I could see the black etchings of a tattoo.
I recognized the Celtic interlacing from my mother’s artwork. The tattoo must be huge, and I wanted so much to see the fine details. He reached out his hand and pulled my necklace out from underneath my shirt, his fingertips brushing my collarbone. I sucked in a sharp breath.
The action surprised me as he moved farther into my personal space.
“Can I help you?”
He observed the medal dangling on the chain. “St. George. The dragon slayer.” One dark eyebrow lifted in a question.
“My mother gave it to me.”
“She is a smart woman.”
“Was,” I corrected.
Those midnight eyes gazed directly into mine, searching. “I’m sorry.”
Sorrow whirled in those depths. I felt overheated again being so near him. My heart hammered away. He hovered so close, too close, just staring at me like…like what? He seemed to be trying to solve a puzzle. Finally, I found my voice.
“Thank you.” I swallowed, my throat tight. Glancing at Sandy-hair, still unconscious, I nodded toward him. “What was that thing? The thing inside him?”
“A lower demon. A rogue, apparently. Why would he want to kill you?”
