Page 49
“Not the first course, love. But definitely the last.”
“Says who?” she rebounded, trying not to show him his effect on her.
“I do.”
Oh, that smile could deflower a virgin on sight.
She had to stay strong.
“Kenton, do you have any idea how bizarre the last few days have been? First, Lawrence told me you were out to get me, then you told me the opposite was true, and oh, by the way, I’m descended from some ancient bloodline of superheroes on my deadbeat dad’s side of the family. Then, before I can even start to process all of that, you tell me I’m not in danger from Lawrence after all. And here you are, looking at me with those eyes that can’t be real, and . . .”
What the hell . . . might as well just go for it.
“. . . and suddenly the only thing I can think about is how your hands felt on my body this morning when I was supposed to be getting a massage.”
Expelling a deep breath, she nearly tore the wine from the hands of the waitress, who had just appeared at their table.
“We would like menus please,” Kenton said, his tone firm.
Alessandra took a good long sip of her wine, noticing for the first time that the flavor really did contain hints of raspberry and licorice. Well, at least her newly honed senses would make her a hit at wine tasting parties.
Kenton’s only response to her outburst was to pair his ongoing stare with a sly smile.
Finally, he shrugged. “Lawrence Derrickson isn’t out to get you. He’s a nice guy.”
“But I thought you hated him?”
He shrugged. “I do. But to others, he is the epitome of a ‘nice guy.’ He’s here to protect you, not to harm you.”
Add that to the ever-growing list of things that confused the living daylights out of her.
“So you’re saying he came all the way from—” she paused, realizing she didn’t know, “—wherever he’s from—”
“Scotland.”
“Nice. Scotland. He has no more of an accent than you do. So you’re saying that he came to Stone Haven because of me, but he’s no threat. Now I get everything.”
Kenton sighed as the waitress placed two menus on their table. “I understand this is confusing, Alessandra, but you have to understand. There have been some—” he cleared his throat, “—Cheld, who have not handled their new abilities well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some . . . have become a threat. All Cheld develop their abilities differently. Some become quite . . . extreme. They use their newfound powers for less than admirable reasons.”
“But I still don’t understand—”
“We are not a danger to you, Alessandra. You have my word.”
All humor had left his expression. She’d never seen him so serious. Sipping her wine, Alessandra considered what he’d told her. What it all might mean.
“And I would not call your ancestors ‘superheroes,’” Kenton added.
“Oh? Then what would you call them?”
He seemed to struggle for an answer.
“My relationship with the Cheld is . . . complicated.” Leaning forward in his seat, he crossed his hands over each other and looked her in the eye. “You see. The Cheld killed my father.”
Her eyes widened.
