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Dane crouched so his reflection didn’t show in the mirror behind the bar. The flash of a baseball bat filled his mind as he sensed Gabby’s plan. He wished he had the ability to tell her not to challenge this man, but his telepathy was limited.
Dane had no choice but to move before she did something foolish and got herself shot. Her heart pounded as she reached for the baseball bat hidden under the counter, her mind racing with adrenaline-fueled thoughts.
“Hey—”
Dane sprung, tackling the man into the bar. A shot went off, the ear-splitting blast smashing through the stillness and throwing everything into chaos. Glass shattered, and Gabby screamed.
Dane dragged the man to the ground and banged his hand against the foot rail of the bar until the gun skittered across the floor. Stools fell as punches pounded into Dane’s head. They wrestled and rolled across the tile.
The flash of a blade caught his eye and Gabby shouted, “He has a knife!”
Instinct took over. With a snap of his jaw, Dane bit into the man’s throat. Panic spiked the blood, adding a sharpness Dane had never tasted, one not easily declined.
The knife clattered to the floor as his body bucked. Something dark and instinctual took hold of him. In that moment, he didn’t care if he bled the man dry.
“Stop! What are you doing? Stop!”
Something solid and heavy cracked into his back, and he collapsed, gasping and choking as the gunman scrambled to his feet, choking and holding his throat.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Gabby screamed, now holding the gun and the bat.
The man bolted out the door.
Dane rolled to his aching back and groaned. The hot taste of adrenaline-spiked blood coated his lips and tongue.
“You get out, too! Now!”
Her horrified expression pinned Dane in place more than the angle of the gun pointed at him. “Gabby, he shot at you.”
“Youbithim!”
He covered his mouth, wiping away the evidence. “I was protecting you.”
Her thoughts were jumbled, but he didn’t need to see into her mind to realize she was terrified. “Are you some kind of cannibal?”
“What? No! Gabby, I?—”
“Get out.”
“But you said?—”
“I don’t care what I said, you sick fuck! Get out of my bar!”
He scrambled off the floor, glancing at the cash that spilled from the tip jar. He would not be paid for his work. Nor would he have a place to stay.
Shit.
Blood darkened his sleeve, and he examined the small tear in the fabric. His skin burned. It looked like a bullet might have grazed him. That was going to cause some problems. “Look, if I could just use the sink to wash up?—”
“Get. The fuck. Out of here.”
He thought of The Order and its laws about exposure. He couldn’t leave her like this. He needed to protect not only himself but the others. If their kind were discovered, they would be hunted. His mind went to Gracie, his heart forever set on protecting her.
But he didn’t possess the ability to alter a person’s memory, so he didn’t have a clue what to do.
The tension in the air crackled, and Gabby screamed,“Get the fuck out of my bar!”
He quickly fabricated a lie. “I didn’t bite him. He punched me in the nose. This…this is my blood. A bullet clipped me?—”
