“We’re going to his parents’ house together.”

Erika stepped back and stared at the SUV. “I’m going to catch this motherfucker. I’m going to nail him to the fucking wall before he does this again.”

• • •

Nate prayed like hell that Mrs. Mary drove to Luchas House fast and then flat-out ran across that field to the forest. As she couldn’t dematerialize, it was going to be twenty minutes. Or more. Especially if she followed the speed limit, and he had a feeling she would.

“It could be twenty minutes,” he said to the female. “Before she comes.”

Please don’t leave—

Without warning, the female jumped and stumbled back, putting her hands up to shield herself. On a surge of protection, Nate wrenched around—

Instead of panicking—or going on the attack, which was actually his first instinct—he got a good shot of relief. And the Black Dagger Brother who had materialized into the clearing was actually not much of a surprise, even if his imposing presence was a thing.

“Rhage,” Nate said. And then he put his palms out to reassure the female. “Don’t worry, he’s with me. I’m with him. I mean—”

The Brother smiled at her and raised his hands. “Worry not. I am a friend.”

The female tilted her head. “How do I know that? You are armed.”

“Not against you. And never against him.”

As they threw out unfamiliar syllables, Nate went back and forth, playing a what-are-they-saying tennis match as they spoke in that language. And though he had no idea what they were talking about, he did notice that their accents were the same—and most importantly, the female wasn’t leaving and she was less scared.

So hey, as far as he was concerned, the two could pull up some chairs and gab all night long.

Rhage switched to English. “My shellan is coming. I’m here to make sure you’re safe—and he’s safe.”

“Is he your son—” The female clapped her mouth shut.

Nate frowned. “You could understand me all along?” As she looked away, he glanced at Rhage—as if the Brother could explain why she’d fronted. “The whole time?”

“I did not know . . . what to do,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. It’s all right.” Nate cleared his throat. “I’m just glad—well, you can trust Mrs. Mary. And the Brother Rhage.”

Her eyes widened at the fighter. “You are a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood?”

Rhage opened his leather jacket and flashed the pair of daggers that were strapped, handles down, to his huge chest. “I am.”

The female exhaled. “Thanks be to the Scribe Virgin.”

“Listen,” Rhage said, “if you’re okay with it, I’d like to suggest we head over thataway. We have a house there. We’ve got some food and drink to offer you, and it’s totally safe.”

Nate frowned. “But there are a lot of workmen on-site—”

“Not when I tell them to go, there won’t be. Can you walk her back to Luchas House?”

Nate blinked. And then flushed.

“Oh, yes, I can, yes, I will—” He locked his molars shut. “I mean, if it’s all right with her? Or, you. I mean.”

Shit.

The female looked back and forth between the two of them. “Yes, of course it is, but I do not want to cause trouble—”

“It’s no trouble,” Nate interjected.

“None at all.” Rhage clapped his palms together. “I’m going to go clear the house. Nate, take care of her, will you?”

The urge to stand at attention and salute was nearly irresistible. And his backup to that ridiculousness was the idea of offering the female his arm, like he was somebody special. Like he could do anything to defend her.

As he settled for nodding at the Brother, Rhage gave them a wave and dematerialized—which meant . . . they were alone again.

“It’s over there,” Nate said as he pointed through the trees to the meadow and the distant lights of the house. As if there were another destination option?

The female nodded and came closer to him—and he was so stunned to see her move and scent her up close that he stood where he was like his boots had been nailed to the ground. Meanwhile, she passed him by—and then stopped and looked back.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his hair. “I mean, here I come.”

Together, they walked out of the trees and into the field. And that was when she stopped again. As she scanned the open area, she seemed so solitary. So sad.

If she had somewhere else to go, someone who she could trust, she wouldn’t be here, he thought. Anybody would connect with a family member or a friend if they had one—

As she went to walk forward again, her foot caught on a tangle of dead weeds, and he reached out for her arm to make sure she didn’t fall.

“Careful,” he said as he caught her balance and promptly let her go.

With hands that shook, she pulled her hood up higher on her blond hair. “Forgive me.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to apologize for. Everyone trips. I—ah, what did you say your name was?”

She hadn’t, actually. But he didn’t want to come across as demanding.

And when the sounds of their feet schmucking through pockets of mud were the only thing that came back in reply, he felt like maybe he had been.

They were halfway to Luchas House when her voice, quiet and heavily accented, drifted across to him. “Elyn. Please call me Elyn.”

“That’s beautiful—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, wow.”

He took a test glance at her in case she was staring at him like he was a creeper, but she wasn’t. She was clearly deep in thought, her brows down over her eyes, even as she didn’t appear to be focused on anything specific in front of her. And as they fell silent again, Nate’s brain hot-fired to find conversation . . . except all he got were no-go’s—and the fact that he couldn’t come up with anything even remotely normal to say made him realize what a frickin’ mutant he was.

But like he’d been socialized in that lab? By anything other than the white coats who’d been experimenting on him and that television they’d let him watch?

Lost in bad things, he came out of his trance as they arrived at the split-rail fence. He had a thought about lifting the top one off for her, but she slipped through the beams quick as a whistle and waited on the other side for him.

“This is a nice farmhouse, huh,” he mumbled. Because he had to say something or he was going to explode. “I’m working on it—well, worked on it. We’re basically done with the renovations.”

As he led her around to the front walkway, he thought of her accent. It was really fancy, like his dad’s. Like Rhage’s. She probably wasn’t going to be impressed with a blue-collar job like the one he’d been doing. And as all that he did not have to offer females in general, and her specifically, crashed against the shores of his self-esteem, he got as quiet as she was.

Yup, this was not how his fantasies had played things out. Which was proof positive you shouldn’t let wishful thinking get in the way of reality. In his daydreams? He’d found her out by that pit and invited her for a meal at that 24-hour diner he and Shuli hit after work sometimes. Over hamburgers and slices of apple pie, they talked about everything and nothing at all until right before it became too dangerous to stay out—and just before the sun rose, he took her back to her parents’ house, where she gave him her number and told him to call during the day.