Lover Unveiled (Black Dagger Brotherhood 19)

Such game. And he didn’t even like alcohol.

“I live in town. With my parents.” He tacked that second part on to make himself seem more approachable. “Do you live with yours?”

As opposed to a mate. Who was, like, big as Murhder and as possessive as a guard dog. Who would likely tear Nate limb from limb with his teeth and bury the pieces in his yard.

“My mom’s a scientist. My dad’s—” No, wait, he wasn’t going to talk about the Black Dagger Brotherhood. “He’s a fighter for the . . .” No, he shouldn’t mention the King. “He takes care of people.”

The female’s head turned to the impact pit again, and he got a good look at her profile. It was . . . well, as perfect as the front view of her face was. Her features were fine and well-balanced, her eyes set a little on the deep side, her mouth a wisp of pink between her nose and her chin. There was a shriveled brown leaf in the ends of her hair, a leftover from what had fallen in the autumn, and he was so tempted to go over and pick it out of such delicate entrapment. Put it in his pocket. Keep it safe throughout his shift.

Hide it in his bedside table when he got home. Hide it forever.

Something told him he was going to want proof that he’d actually stood with her.

“Last night, I was going to talk to you.” Jesus, he sounded pathetic. “I wanted to say hi. But I didn’t think—well, there were a lot of people around.”

She continued to stay silent, but as her eyes returned to him, they didn’t leave—and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. She looked wary and weary.

And that was when he saw the dirt on the folds of her cape-like thing. And noticed how pale she was.

Nate narrowed his eyes. “Did you spend the day out here?”

She took another step back.

He shook his head. “I’m not judging. I just . . . it’s not real safe. From the sun. From other things.” He gave her a chance to say something. “Look, is there someone I can call for you?”

When he took out his phone, she put some more distance between them, the fallen pine needles rustling under her feet—which he could not see, and he hoped had shoes to cover their soles.

“Please,” he said. “Just let me help you. I can call for help. Who can I call for you?”

“I am lost.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I am lost.”

He pointed to his ear. “I’m sorry, I, ah, I can’t understand what language you’re speaking. Can you—of course you don’t speak English or you’d be speaking English.” He talked slower—which was frickin’ stupid. “I’m calling someone who can help.”

With a hand that was kind of unsteady, he pulled a number out of his contacts and put things on speakerphone. “Just give me a minute. She’s a good female, she can help—”

Two rings in, and from out of the tinny speaker, Mary, the shellan of the Black Dagger Brother Rhage, said, “Nate! How nice to hear from you. You all are doing such great work out at Luchas House. We’re moving the rest of the furniture in tonight—”

“Mrs. Mary, I have a problem.” He locked eyes with the hooded female and prayed—prayed—that she stayed where she was. “I’m here with a . . . friend . . . and she isn’t speaking a language I can understand. She needs . . . a friend. Can you help me help her?”

There was only the slightest of pauses, proof positive that Mrs. Mary was the right person to call. “Okay, Nate. First of all, are you two in a safe place? Do you want me to send someone to you?”

He pictured the likes of the Brother Vishous showing up. Qhuinn. Shit—Zsadist. “No, no, we’re perfectly safe. We’re just in the forest by Luchas House. Where the meteor landed.”

“Good. Can you put her on?”

“Here,” he said, holding out the phone toward the female. When she just stared in confusion at what was in his palm, he felt like further assurances were necessary. “Don’t worry. She’s a professional. You can trust her.”

Yeah, like any of that was going to help if she didn’t speak English.

Shit.

• • •

“So you were telling me about this Book thing.”

Over at Tallah’s kitchen counter, Mae closed her eyes and swore to herself that the coffee she was pouring was going to stay in its ceramic delivery device. She was not going to toss it across the table at the male who’d put in his order like he was at a 24-hour diner.

How they’d managed to make it downstairs in one piece was a miracle of sorts. And not because they were being chased by anything.

Oil and water. They were oil and water together.