Part 16 (1/2)

”I wasn't requesting a rescue,” Fleur said, unable to prevent herself from smiling.

Dain focused on her, flas.h.i.+ng a c.o.c.ky grin. ”Well, you got one.” He tilted his head and looked at her, and she felt suddenly self-conscious in her simple black trench coat, her hair in a loose ponytail, and no makeup.

Dain didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He just reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his attention on her mouth, a very unprofessional look in his eye. He dropped his hand abruptly and turned to face the street. ”So, what do you think?”

Fleur shrugged. ”I don't know what to think. I was informed that...” Her gaze moved past Dain's face to the crowd. ”Well, here they are now. Better late than never.”

Dain followed her eyes to the faces of a pair of men who seemed to be craning their necks over the sea of bobbing heads to stare right back at them. Then he looked away and brought his hand up to his earpiece. ”Cyd, is that you again? For G.o.d's sake, find a pay phone or something.”

”Is something wrong?” Fleur asked.

”She didn't clock in this morning and has been triggering my comm all day. When I answer, she doesn't.”

”Go find her,” Fleur said quietly. ”I can handle this on my own.” But she wanted him to stay. She had called him for a reason. She wanted to be near him. She was being selfish. She wanted him to choose her, no matter who was in danger. No matter what happened.

Dain looked into her eyes and she could see weariness. His eyes reflected thoughts unsaid, words unspoken. Which was just as well. Fleur smiled and looked away, remembering she had no right to him. No right at all. ”Go to her. Go find her,” she repeated, this time doing her best to mean it. She gestured to the two men separating from the crowd, now intent upon them. ”This is nothing special.”

”I'll stay here with you if it's all the same,” he said.

Fleur was out of words. She just swallowed and pulled herself together, turning to the men she knew to be rogues. There were two of them, one dressed rather like a b.a.s.t.a.r.dized version of a British schoolboy, dark cosmetics smudged around his eyes and a rep tie around his neck. The other was in more traditional street attire, with tattoos covering his forearms and a jet black mohawk almost as arresting as his piercing green eyes.

”You pa.s.s well,” Fleur said.

”So we're told. And what do you know? We don't just get Fleur Dumont. We get the whole First Couple of Don't Even Think About It,” the schoolboy rogue said, looking between them.

”What's that supposed to mean?” Dain asked, stepping up. He stood next to Fleur, obviously itch-ing for a fight. She could tell his blood was up. She doubted he even realized how far he disappeared within himself when the blind desire to wreak havoc took over. Of course, she'd certainly set the standard, losing control like that in Dogtown.

”Ask her,” the rogue said, gesturing to Fleur.

Fleur raised an eyebrow and said in a bored voice, ”If you're here to pick a fight, maybe we should just get on with it.”

The answer came in the form of a left hook. Fleur ducked and threw off her trench coat. Dain reacted like lightning, lining up in front of the tattooed rogue, fists at the ready. ”Give me an excuse to be bad,” he said with a grin, curling his fingers to beckon his foe forward.

The fighters squared off and went at it.

It was clear the rogues weren't carrying any special weapons, not anything that could kill Fleur anyway. The most they'd be able to do was cause her pain. And yet, that didn't seem to be their intent either.

Fleur stepped down her game a bit, just to see what her attacker would do. She sensed that he adjusted as well, throwing his punches a little easier, moving a little slower. This wasn't a fight so much as an exercise of some kind.

As she slowly and methodically sparred, matching fists, feet, daggers, and brute strength against those of her opponent, Fleur watched Dain fight the other rogue from the corner of her eye. There was a more serious match. After all, Dain could be killed with one well-placed thrust of a dagger. And he was fighting as she suspected he always did, a.s.suming his life was on the line.

With Fleur's focus more on Dain's match than her own, her opponent took advantage and slipped her up, kicking her feet out from beneath her. Fleur fell back hard to the ground, knocking her head on the cement. Stunned as she was, the rogue took the opening and came down atop her, sitting on her as if he'd bested his mate in a high-school wrestling match. His weight effectively holding her down, he stuck his dagger to her throat.

Fleur rolled her eyes. ”Lovely,” she said. Then both she and her captor waited for the second fight to play out.

Circling his foe, Dain glanced over at Fleur lying in surrender on the ground and reacted like a man possessed. His opponent leaped into a hard roundhouse kick, but Dain grabbed his ankle and sent him cras.h.i.+ng headfirst to the ground. The rogue groaned in pain and Dain leaped on him, pounding his fist into the rogue's face as his other arm locked around the vampire's neck.

”Uncle.” Fleur's captor said it sarcastically at first, but when Dain didn't seem to hear him-or perhaps chose to ignore him-he repeated the word more urgently.

”Dain,” Fleur called.

Dain looked up in surprise, his fist poised in midair, then looked down at the rogue in his grasp as if seeing more clearly.

”Tell me,” Fleur said, s.h.i.+fting uncomfortably under the weight of her captor, ”Are you here because I lead the Primary a.s.sembly now... or are you here because I once made one of your kind?”

He didn't answer her, just turned to his friend who'd slumped a bit in Dain's grasp. ”She's not half bad,” he said.

”How personal is this?” Fleur continued.

The rogue looked more self-satisfied than bloods thirsty. He knew that she felt pain just like anyone, and he could have meted out a little if he'd wanted. Instead, straddling her with a knife at her throat, he looked over at Dain and said, ”Trade?”

”Sure,” Dain said.

The rogue moved the blade away from Fleur's throat, flipping it over to show that he hadn't cut her. He raised an index finger. ”One?”

Dain nodded, and the rogue sheathed his knife at the same time Dain holstered his own weapon.

”Two?” Dain and the rogue simultaneously stood, both still straddling their conquered counterparts.

The rogue held up three fingers. ”Done.” The two men stepped completely away from their victims. Dain held out his hand and helped Fleur to her feet. The first rogue turned to Fleur and bowed. ”Oh, where are my manners? I throw down, Fleur Du-mont,” he said mockingly. He gestured to his friend and they walked away as easily as if they'd all just had lunch.

Fleur watched them retreat. ”That's it?” she called. She didn't think they'd ever intended to hurt her. But they hadn't imparted any information, either. It was almost as if they'd come for sport not politics. That made it personal, but didn't shed light on the bigger picture.

Dain picked up her trench coat and brushed it off. ”You okay?” he asked.

”Nothing bruised but my pride,” she answered.

”But you went easy on him, didn't you?”

”Can't get 'em every time,” she said obliquely.

He looked at her carefully, but didn't pursue his point. ”So... those are vampires, but they aren't your

people. Rogues, yeah?”

Fleur wiped the sweat off her forehead. ”Rogues. You handled yours nicely.”

”And you let yours off easy.”

”He got the better of me,” she said, ”but I wasn't afraid for myself. From the get-go, I knew they just

wanted sport. A bit odd.”