Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [84]
“No way. Fucking fairies, I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna what?”
Jess whirled, eyes wide. He hadn’t even heard Chapel’s heavy door swing open. Adam filled the doorway, arms crossed and stance belligerent. Behind him, Jess could just barely make out another guy with shoulder-length hair who was resting what looked like a baseball bat on his shoulder. He didn’t see Miranda anywhere, but anxiety strung him tight as a bow. These frat boys had to leave. Like, ten minutes ago.
“I’d listen to your mate, there, Kyle,” Frankie put in coolly. “You won’t get me with a sucker punch twice. And as you can see, the fairies have friends.”
Pudge dragged Kyle to his feet, casting fearful glances at the bar door. Kyle didn’t want to back down, but when the bat-wielding man stepped farther out into the alcove, he shook his head in apparent disgust and let Pudge turn them around and pull him down the street.
It was over. Jess gulped in air and blinked rapidly, clearing something thick and smeary from his right eye. Shit, was he bleeding?
“I didn’t run away,” he realized aloud. “I was scared, but I stuck.”
“You did,” Frankie said, turning to him and cradling his face in both long-fingered hands. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of Frankie’s mouth. It made him look even more dangerous and bad-ass than usual. Frankie’s long fingers brushed gingerly at the sore place above Jess’s eyebrow, drawing a hiss.
“Think we’ll have matching scars?” Jess asked with a grin.
Frankie’s lips tightened when he looked at Jess’s cut, but his voice was light with laughter when he said, “You were my hero, slaid the nasty dragon for me and all.”
“And to the victor go the spoils, right?”
Everything Jess had felt before the interruption by the frat boys came roaring back, heightened and intensified by the lingering rush of danger in his veins. High on adrenaline, he forgot their audience and reached out to clasp Frankie’s lean hips, pulling him flush against his body.
“That’s what they say,” Frankie replied. He ducked in for a kiss.
“Adam, did you find Jess? Is everything okay?” Miranda’s concerned voice brought Frankie’s head jerking up.
Jess’s heart jumped, then sank down into his stomach where panic pumped raw acid in a sudden, queasy gush. He dropped his hands and stepped back in a hurry, ignoring the way Frankie’s eyes darkened for a moment.
Miranda pushed between Adam and the other guy to get a good view of Jess and Frankie, standing in the center of a circle of light from the streetlamp overhead.
“We . . . heard a noise, and I didn’t see you,” she said, sounding uncertain. “Jess. What’s going on here?”
TWENTY-ONE
Nothing. Everything’s fine.” Jess sounded normal but distant, as if he were in shock.
Miranda stared at her brother. A million excuses were running through her head for why he was standing there, too close to Frankie, watching her with heartbreaking terror in his eyes.
And then she noticed the blood on Jess’s face. Anger swarmed up and over her in a welcome rush, pushing her nebulous fears aside.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, stalking forward. Adam put out a hand to stop her, but she shook him off. Christian moved aside easily, and, as if feeling that the threat of danger had passed, he turned and went back into the bar, shutting the door behind him.
Little did he know, thought Miranda. Fury made her feel ten feet tall, and whatever was in her eyes was making Frankie scowl in confusion and dawning worry.
Good. He should be worried.
“Miranda, don’t,” Adam tried, but she ignored him.
“What the hell did you do to Jess?”
Frankie reared back as she got closer, his gaze cutting to Jess as if looking for a clue about how to answer.
“Eyes on me, scumbag,” Miranda hissed. “I asked you a question. What the hell did you do to make Jess bleed? Did you hit him?”
“Whoa, wait a minute there, sweets,” Adam said, bounding to her side. “I’m sure Frankie didn’t do anything to Jess. Right, guys?”
Jess’s eyes were wide and almost blank, the blue as opaque and dark as