Blood Noir - Laurell K. Hamilton [83]
She staggered toward me, I think to see my face better. I was beginning to wonder if it was more than drink. Did she need glasses and wasn’t wearing them? She leaned into my face, peering close enough that it was too intimate in the suddenly silent room. She studied my eyes from inches away, clinging to my arm. She was nearsighted, I’d have bet money on it, because closer, she seemed to see me better. If I could use her guilt for two things, I would. Try to sober her up, and have someone find her damn glasses.
She overbalanced on her heels and fell into me. I let go of Jason’s hand and grabbed her. I found out two things about Lisa Bromwell. One, she was drunk enough she couldn’t right herself; in fact her knees started to go. Two, she wasn’t wearing a damn thing under the little black dress. How’d I find out that last bit? I grabbed her at the lower waist and inadvertently raised the short skirt enough to bare most of her ass to the room. If I hadn’t been worried about flashing the room, I could have just picked her up. She weighed maybe a hundred pounds. But I couldn’t figure out how to lift her and not let the men in the room see the entire show. One of those moments when you just go, Huh, no idea what to do.
Jason and J. J. saved me. They both came in and took an arm apiece, which let me shift her dress back down. I watched her eyes roll back into her head. J. J. had time to say, “Lisa—”
I moved to catch her. I didn’t mean to move faster than human-normal, but I suddenly found one arm across her back and one arm under her thighs. Jason saw the movement and let go of the arm he was holding. J. J. was left clinging to one of Lisa’s arms, eyes a little wide. I stood there holding Lisa and being looked at very seriously by everyone in the room. The women were just surprised; the bodyguards had that look—that if-things-go-bad-we-shoot-her-first look.
Shit. I wasn’t used to being faster than a speeding bullet. Okay, not that fast, but I was almost as quick as a real lycanthrope. My reaction times had become bloody spectacular. I had spent most of my life struggling with the best I could offer being barely good enough physically, and now…now just catching one drunk woman had startled a room full of armed men. Crap.
Jason kissed me on the cheek, softly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. J. J. let go of Lisa’s arm and gave me full wide eyes. “That was like magic. One second she was falling, and then you just had her in your arms. Are you that fast, or did you fuck with my mind?”
“Yes,” Shadwell said, from where he was standing away from the wall, hand a little hovery over his weapon, “which is it, Marshal? Speed, or did you mind-fuck the entire room like some kind of vampire?”
“It’s speed,” Jason said.
“Are you a shapeshifter?” Shadwell asked.
I shook my head. “No, not exactly.”
“What does not exactly mean?” he asked.
I gave him an unfriendly look and said, “You like your secrets; you tell me what I want to know, and I’ll share. Until then, you aren’t cleared for this information.” I admit, that last part was said in a voice with an edge to it. Was I teasing him, or just pissed at the situation in general? Both.
Trish recovered first and came over with a light jacket that someone had taken off. She draped it across Lisa’s lower body. I guess she was right. The dress was short enough that nothing I could do holding her in my arms would keep her from flashing the room. That’s what underwear is for, girls, so if an emergency happens you only show your cookies to the people you love.
“Let’s put Lisa on the couch,” Trish said.
I started walking toward the couch with the woman in my arms. Trish said, “Isn’t she heavy?”
“No,” I said, and she wouldn’t have been even before I got stronger than the average human, but then I could still bench-press my own body weight, and I weighed more than Lisa did. Which was why I could carry her across the room and lay her on the couch. There was plenty of room to lay her down because the women