Chapter Four
“Fuck.”
One minute. Maybe less.
That was the whole time he’d taken to turn around, in the name of taking care of her.
One minute. And then she was gone.
The blood-soaked, battle-shocked little sneak.
“Fuck.”
Second time around, he stretched the oath long and loud. After it filled the better part of the next minute, he formulated a valid guess about where she’d headed.
No way was her brain sharp enough, after the blood loss and realms jump, to consider bucking the flow of the crowd out on the Underworld’s main avenue.
Instead of trying to navigate the darker routes for herself, she’d surely opt for anonymity in numbers by heading for the Café along with everyone else.
Until she read the information on the sign in front.
The part about the collaboration with DeLux . . .
Which would make her do what?
Race right back to her home-sweet-realm, despite the possibility that someone in DeLux itself would recognize her as the ringleader of the squad that trashed the atrium three hours ago? Or would she dive for a hiding space down here, intending to make a clean break after closing time?
Silly little monster. Didn’t she know Hell never closed?
But maybe she hadn’t fully accepted the Hell part of the situation yet . . .
Because here she was, suddenly in front of him, the center attraction of action plan number three. The scenario even he hadn’t considered . . .
Requiring the nerve he never should have underestimated from her.
She was parked at one of Eve’s event tables, ironically next to one of the atrium’s glass walls, peering through the newly cleaned pane with a taut and longing expression.
Considering how her tactical team had fared in there, that part of the scene wasn’t the most mystifying—not when the goblin positioned across from her was so clearly, if unknowingly, bucking for the honor.
He leaned forward, all six fingers of his hand around a sedate can of soju, his K-drama gaze full of adoration and attention, as if ready to gold-plate every syllable that dropped from her lips.
In short, exactly the bi-world dweller that’d be thrilled to escort her back up to Los Angeles, from the very second she asked . . .
A grunting growl gashed the assumption to a violent halt. He barely acknowledged it as his own before it spurred serrated words up his tight throat.
“Not on my watch, Romeo.”