Jett wiped beer from his face, pulled a piece of glass out of his temple, and made no move to fight back. He could kill Logan easily, but doing so in the public eye on human turf would bring a shit storm to the colony’s doorstep. Best to not fight him at all, if possible.
Logan lunged with the knife and slashed at Jett’s throat. Jett dodged, his movements limited by tables and chairs, taking the slice across the shoulder. The wound stung and blood seeped into his shirt, but Jett kept his focus on the poacher and on the exit beyond him.
The gawkers all spoke at once, trying to talk Logan down.
“Demon!” the poacher hollered and pointed at Jett with the knife.
Jett hissed and growled, hoping to clear a path to the door. Getting out was the most important thing. The gathered humans took a collective step back, except for one.
“You’re the one waving a knife.” The human who held his ground wore fatigues with “US Army” and “Emerson” stitched across his chest. He folded his arms and glowered at Logan.
“He bit and killed two of my colleagues last night!” Logan shouted.
Fuck.
Emerson’s gaze narrowed and shifted to Jett.
“Yes, I did, after they killed four of us, and were in the process of kidnapping a five-year-old boy. Your government recognizes the Guardians’ sovereign right on Sanctuary land to defend civilians.” Jett scanned the crowd, hoping these humans had some sense and the facts would turn the tide in his favor. “I only came here for information on his boss.”
Someone in the crowd said, “I heard about the murders on the news. Three were kids.”
“Demons,” Logan snapped. “Who cares?”
“I do.” Emerson took a step forward as sirens wailed in the distance. “Put the knife down.”
Logan spat on the floor at the serviceman’s feet.
Jett cursed under his breath as the sirens grew louder, but the path to the door remained blocked. He couldn’t risk shoving the humans out of his way and get accused of attacking them. Devin appeared in the doorway.
Get out of there, the Guardian mouthed.
Logan pivoted toward Jett, leading with the knife. Jett moved to block, but Emerson grasped the poacher’s arm, twisted him around, and flung him. The crowd parted. Logan landed face first on the floor and the knife flew from his hand.
“Trust me, you want to stay down.” Emerson leaned over the shock-faced poacher.
Jett met Emerson’s blue gaze and nodded, hoping the depth of his gratitude showed on his face. “Thank you.”
The serviceman motioned toward the door and the crowd shuffled out of the way in silence. Jett hurried through and joined Devin, a mix of fury and relief on the Guardian’s face. They hustled out the door and down the street toward the SUV.
“Well, that was fantastic,” Devin snapped as they ran.
“Where’s Gwyn?”
“Henry took off in a car and she’s following him in ours, so I’m riding with you.” Devin pulled the passenger door open and got in. Jett pulled away from the curve just as the police stopped in front of the restaurant down the street.
“Did you get any good info?”
“No.” Jett forced the word through clenched teeth. “Logan knew who I was the whole time. But Lawrence is already planning another attack. Logan made sure to drop that bit of info without adding anything useful.”
Devin cursed. “It was a damn good try.”
“A good try doesn’t put Lawrence in the ground.” The sense of failure sat on Jett’s shoulders like the weight of a dead man.
Chapter Nine
Lexine made her way through the trees toward her parents’ home, hoping to avoid running into anyone, too preoccupied for conversation.
Her heart stung like a raw wound from seeing firsthand the destruction caused by the poachers, but the idea of spending time with Jett quelled her panic. Maybe she had a chance for a future with a demon mate. But she couldn’t get ahead of herself. She’d dated a dozen demons, a range of ages and personalities, to no avail. She had no reason to think it would be any different with Jett.
Except for the way he stole her breath when he stood close. Made her tremble. Turned her heart into a quivering mess. None of the others had prompted such a reaction, least of all just by their presence. But did Jett feel the same way, or was he simply trying to protect her, to help her change her fate? If he only sought to give her a different future, how far would he be willing to go?
To avoid mating with a poacher, would she mate with a demon who didn’t love her? Who she didn’t love?
Hell, yes, because as awful as that would be, it didn’t compare to betraying everyone she cared about. But it hadn’t been fair to ask others for such a mating. They’d been right to resent her for even suggesting it. Granted, she’d told none of them just how much she had at stake—avoiding a poacher—viciously guarding her secret. They’d have more likely turned her over to the Guardians than entered into a pity mating.
The residence building came into view and everything else in her mind quieted and retreated. Her older brother, Jac, was murdered, and her family mourned. She couldn’t avoid that pain any longer.
The scent of baking cookies filled the air as she opened the door and stepped inside the cozy foyer. To her left, her mother huddled in the living room with Bryce over a mess of wooden toys. To her right, her father sat at the kitchen table, staring at the fingerprints in the thin layer of flour on table.
Despite what would be a cheery atmosphere any other day, the smiles that greeted her faltered.
“Hey, sweetie.” Her father dusted off his hands and rose.
“Hi, Dad,” she whispered.
He pulled her into a tight hug, a shake to his breath in her ear. “Jac’s funeral is tomorrow night.”
Her gaze drifted to the small wine rack that rested on the counter, filled with bottles of amber liquid. Jac’s apple wine and hard cider. No words came.
“You can stay here until the rebuilding is done, or for as long as you want.” He released her and stepped back, his expression guarded. Her family knew well her tendency to deal with grief by sticking her head in the sand. By keeping busy. By doing anything but mourning. No doubt he expected her to decline the invitation and distance herself.
She managed a smile. Time to grow a backbone and support her family. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.” His shoulders relaxed.
She did need to keep busy, however. Staring at the wine again, she said, “The market is tonight. Jac wouldn’t want us to miss it.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” He sighed.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Her father nodded and kissed her cheek.
She headed out with a crate of the apple wine on a cart. Darkness had descended and the colony’s businesses had opened for the hours the colonists preferred to be out and about. She made her way to Sanctuary’s market—the spacious pavilion between the grenade-damaged bakery and the tailor shop. Demon-fire lanterns lined the main paths and adorned the buildings, festive decorations as well as necessary illumination for the few humans who lived in Sanctuary, Lexine with her faulty eyes, and the archangels.
She set up at Jac’s usual table, cradled between the jeweler and the poet, who also made chocolate. The romance corner, Jac had called them. Normally bustling with activity, tonight the crowd at the market spoke in dull whispers, their steps slow, wary gazes returning repeatedly to the forest. The market wasn’t as crowded or lively as normal, everyone still wary and weary from the attack. But because of the attack, everyone needed supplies.