Wicked(28)

I lowered the stake a fraction of an inch. "Wow. Okay. How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. My birthday just passed, but I accept late gifts." He flashed a quick grin that didn't reach his eyes. "He was your first love then."

Drawing back like I'd been kicked in the chest, I blinked. What he said wasn't a question but a statement, and I wondered if I had an announcement of such information written across my forehead . . . or my breasts.

A new wave of anger rushed through me. "That's none of your business, and I also doubt that it's relevant to any reason why you're here."

"You're right." He raised a hand and I tensed, but all he did was drag it through his mass of waving curls. "I'm here, because like I said last night, I know there are ancients in New Orleans. That's why I'm here. I'm hunting them."

Out of everything I was expecting him to say that didn't even cause a blip on the radar.

Ren grinned again, and this time it was real. "I can tell by that what the fuck look on your face that you don't believe me. That's okay. I guess. But the look is about to get even more extreme."

I braced myself.

"What I'm about to tell you is something that many would kill to keep a secret. And the only reason why I'm telling you is because we're sort of stuck together for the next couple of days, and I cannot afford to waste time by keeping you in the dark. I have a job to do." The mischievous and almost charming grin made a brief appearance. "Plus, it helps that everyone thinks you're crazy now. Even if you did repeat what I'm about to tell you, no one would believe you. That's got bonus points written all over it."

My eyes narrowed. "Gee. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied blithely. "I belong to the Elite, an organization within the Order. No one outside of the Elite knows about us. We put the secret in Secret Squirrel."

I shook my head slowly. "You . . . I've never heard of such a thing."

"Like I said, you wouldn't. Neither would your fearless leader David." Raising his arms above his head, he stretched and the shirt he wore rose, exposing what turned out to be a tantalizing glimpse of his lower stomach. Pants hanging low, I got an eyeful of those side muscles near the hips, the ones that formed the vee. Then he put his arms down. "Look, I'm starving. Have you eaten today?"

Goodness, he switched topics as fast as Tink. It was disconcerting. "I haven't eaten anything since this afternoon." Not counting the pralines. That didn't count as food.

"There's this place a few blocks down that I passed that looked good, so we should get some food. You don't have to change. I'm loving this getup." His step forward was measured, as if he half expected me to throw the stake at him. "Come grab something to eat with me, and I'll tell you what I know, Ivy. I know a lot. And you can tell me exactly what happened Wednesday night."

Half of me knew I needed to tell him no and kick him out of my place. Probably even call David, and report everything that Ren was saying, but . . . he was right. David had said he'd talk to the other sects, but after tonight I was convinced he didn't really believe me. And I know what I saw Wednesday night. I wasn't going crazy or overreacting. That fae had done things only an ancient could, and if there was a chance Ren wasn't crazy, and everything he was saying was true, I needed to know.

I flipped the stake in my hand and said, "Okay."





Chapter Six





While I was still wary of Ren, going out to eat was a safer bet than hanging around in my apartment. Banging pots and the sound of cooking was a call that Tink could not refuse. The brownie would make himself known, and I wouldn't risk that. So I kept Ren in my bedroom while I quickly threw on a pair of jeans, snapped a bra in place under the tank top, and added a loose three-quarter-sleeve shirt.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Well, my hair. It was doing its own thing, curls going everywhere, and I didn't even attempt to try to tame them into submission. I let them fly. Whatever.

I grabbed an extra iron stake from my dresser and secured it to the inside of my boot. Although I wasn't hunting, I didn't want to get caught unprepared.

On the way out, I saw Tink peeking out from behind the couch, and he still had his war paint on, looking like a demented pixie. It took every ounce of self-control not to laugh. As Ren walked outside, I sent Tink a thumbs up, and he responded by doing something inappropriate with his hand. Obviously he didn't like that I was going out with Ren.

The temps had dropped, and even though it was late, the hole in the wall diner Ren was talking about only had a few booths open. The place smelled good—like food and not a septic system, which is how a lot of places tended to smell. I'd eaten here a few times in the past and the food was good, so Ren was lucky being a newbie to the town and picking a place to eat where you probably wouldn't get listeria.