Page 2 of Hybrid Heroics

I blinked twice before controlling my facial features. His accent, his presence, his scent… It was familiar, though I couldn’t remember ever meeting him in the past.

“When he walks over here, you’re my boyfriend,” I told him. “We’ve been roleplaying since I walked into this bar, pretending we didn’t know each other so that we could live out some sexual fantasy. I hope you’re good at improv.”

His smirk made my chest clench uncomfortably. I could feel my cheeks heat as the waves of teal and green in his irises blazed with promise and mischief.

“That doesn’t sound like a difficult task. I’m York. It’s nice to meet you, Sweetheart.”

The pet name flowed from his mouth with ease, echoing in my mind like a distant memory that I couldn’t quite touch. Maybe my sight—my visions—had been overlapping the little sleep I got, making this happenstance feel more real than it should have.

“I’m Sloane, but you can call me Lo.”

York bumped his shoulder against mine, his smile lighting his eyes, causing the brown flecks to swirl through the oceans of colors. “Nah. I’m going to call you Sweetheart from here on out.”

“You can call me whatever you want,” I murmured. “I just hope you don’t have a weak spot for blood.”

“Why? Am I going to have to fight your jilted ex when he walks over?”

“I don’t need you to fight for me. That guy is no ex of mine. I simply need a witness,” I commented, the last part under my breath.

His smile only grew wider. “You want me to hold your purse while you get into a bar fight with a man twice your size? I’m not that type of boyfriend, Sweetheart.”

“I don’t have a purse,” I smarted, sarcasm dripping in my tone. “And I’m no damsel in distress.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would you like to bet on it?”

York turned on his stool, his knees brushing against my right thigh as he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. I shivered into his touch, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. Until I felt unwanted company on my left side.

I rolled my shoulders back, straightening my posture as I clenched my hands. This time, there wasn’t any fire under my skin. Flames toyed with my vision. The worst part of me was eager to play and feed.

“Calm your farm, Sweetheart,” York breathed, wrapping his hand around my fist. “You shouldn’t kill him here.”

“What?” I asked, thrown off by how calm and farm rhymed in his accent. “What does that mean?”

I rolled the words around in my mind, trying to remove the L from calm and the R from farm. It was a struggle after living in Tennessee for so long.

“Can we get our tab, Joseph?” he called to the bartender before replying, “Settle down. He wanted your attention, and you’re giving it to him.”

Henry pointed his finger at York as he put our tabs underneath the cash tray. “I told you. My name is not—”

“His name is Henry,” I finished, smirking as the shifter narrowed his eyes.

“You two know each other?” Henry inquired, his suspicious gaze landing on our hands.

“She’s my girlfriend,” York said without missing a beat.

“Since when?” he challenged.

I grinned at Henry. “It’s a long story. I’ll stop in another day and explain.”

“I’m craving something sweet,” York muttered, nodding his head toward the door. “Let’s get out of here and grab ice cream.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” I replied, then bit at my lips to stop myself from admitting that I thought he might be a fun, late-night treat.

“So we’ll make sure they don’t put bacon on it,” he retorted, pulling me to stand. “I’ve heard this rumor. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it yet, but they say ice cream comes in dairy-free options.”

I scowled at his sarcasm, and his laughter invaded my senses, pouring into my mind until I felt lightheaded. It was a melody I wouldn’t be able to forget. Ever.