“Yes, and I’m not sure why. We’ll have to ask the others about that,” Alder concedes. “Something changed from the time you were in my office to when I saw you again in the bar.”
“Yeah, one minute, y’all are normal lookin’, and the next, you got glass patrons with no mouths and a tree tendin’ your bar,” I tell him.
“Right. The point is that’s only possible if…” he trails off and runs a frustrated hand through his yellow hair before lettin’ out a puff of air. “Dammit,” he says under his breath.
“Just tell her,” Flint encourages him.
Alder’s shoulders straighten as he looks at me again, and my own spine stiffens, waitin’ for the next bomb to drop. “You’re not…”
“I’m not what?” I press.
“You’re not a human,” he replies, makin’ blood pound in my ears and my heart screech to a stop. “I couldn’t see it at first. When you were in my office, you were one hundred percent human. No traces of being demon-touched. Not even a Diluted. But when I saw you again in the bar, your energy was completely different. There was no mistaking you. I can tell you with certainty that you’re definitely not human, Medley.”
Now it’s time for my head to rear back. “Are you tryin’ to tell me that not only are y’all demons, but I’m a damn demon, too?”
“That’s exactly what we’re saying, darlin’,” Flint answers.
I shake my head vehemently. “No way in hell. I can’t be a demon,” I scoff. “You two, fine. You look all...demony. But look at me,” I say, gesturin’ down my body.
“Oh, I’m looking,” Flint says smoothly, and damn if his flirtatiousness doesn’t make my panties damp. This would be so much easier if I didn’t wanna ride them six ways from Sunday.
“Delta looked human too,” Alder tells me, thankfully givin’ me an excuse to ignore Flint’s remark. The last thing I need is to start blushin’ up a storm in front of these two. I have a feelin’ that they could flirt their way into just about anyone’s bed. Which makes sense, given what they claim to be. Maybe that explains the pull I feel toward them.
“So...you’re demons. I’m a demon. And you wanna help me?” I ask dubiously.
“Yes, we want to make sure you don’t get hurt. We’ve had some...unrest in our realm lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if some Outer Ringers picked up on your trace and tried to attack you.”
Well, that sets off alarm bells. “Attack me? Why?”
Flint’s slate-gray eyes grow serious. “Some demons are power-hungry pricks who try to take down other demons so they can become more powerful,” he tells me. “And...we think you’re something special.”
That makes a humorless chuckle crawl right out of my throat. “I’m not,” I assure them. “There’s nothin’ special ’bout me.”
They don’t seem to share my quick dismissal. “That so?” Flint counters. “What about what happened last night? How do you explain that as nothing special?”
I swallow hard, my eyes dartin’ between the two of them. “I, uh…”
Alder’s eyes sweep over my face, and realization dawns. “You don’t remember a thing, do you?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest, but that just makes sweat gather in the creases of my arms, so I quickly drop them again. “No, I don’t. I never remember my tribulations.”
“Tribulations?”
I wave a hand toward the direction of my parents’ trailer. “That’s what my mama always called them. I think because it sounded fancier than psychotic blackout episodes,” I say, tryin’ to joke, though my tone falls flat.
“I suppose that explains why you didn’t remember the conversation we had about us stopping by today,” Flint says.
I hate the fact that I can’t remember last night, so I quickly keep the conversation movin’. “So you’re here because you want to help protect me from these other demons who might try to attack me?”
“Yes,” Alder says carefully, but I can tell by his tone that there’s more.
“And…?” I press.
Flint opens his mouth to reply. “And we think you should—”
Alder cuts him off. “We think you should come work for us at the bar. It’s the least we can do. Our stop made you late with your delivery and got you fired, after all,” he explains. “Plus, if you’re working at the bar, we can keep an eye on things and make sure no one messes with you.”
I narrow my eyes because I didn’t miss the fact that he spoke over Flint, but before I can get any more information, my daddy comes walkin’ out sans Todd.
Both Alder and Flint look over their shoulders at the sound of his approach, their eyes immediately fallin’ to what’s in his hand.
“I thought you were kidding about the shotgun,” Alder says, amusement evident in his voice.
I shake my head, not the least bit surprised. Anytime I’ve ever had a boy come by, whether I was thirteen or twenty-eight, my daddy always makes sure to have an excuse to have his shotgun with him so he can make some non-verbal threats of the paternal kind. It’s real sweet.
“Gentleman,” my daddy says as he makes his way over to us. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” The words may be polite, but his glare is anythin’ but.
“Daddy, this is Alder and Flint. They’re the owners of the bar I delivered to last night,” I say. “This is my daddy, Teddy Bell.”
Alder and Flint both shake my daddy’s hand, and then he settles beside me, shotgun poised at his side. “I sure hope there wasn’t anythin’ untoward happenin’ at that bar last night to my baby girl,” he says, and my heart swells a bit. Flint and Alder are incredibly strong and intimidatin’, but that doesn’t stop my daddy from standin’ up to them on my behalf.
“No, sir,” Flint says. “We stopped by today to introduce ourselves and to let you know that everything was on the up and up.”
My daddy stares at him hard, takin’ his measure. His eyes shift from one to the other, his
