“My companions and I were told to leave,” he told his mentor. “We need to go.”
“But—” the elder demon protested.
“Good day, Josiah. I’ll be in touch.” Hugh dismissed Goodling with a perfunctory nod, then walked immediately toward Gwen and took her arm, his grip gentle but supportive. “There you are. Have you prevented Kip’s indecency charge–in–progress?”
A breezy reply required some struggle, but Gwen eventually managed.
“With difficulty,” she said. “I had to wave an herb-crusted rack of lamb over my head to distract him, but he and Lorrie are waiting for us near her SUV.”
As Hugh led her toward the road, she lowered her voice to a faint whisper. “I wish I were a more believable fake girlfriend for someone like you. That conversation must have been so embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not embarrassed, Gwen, and you owe me no apologies.” His response was quiet but firm. “Indeed, I should be apologizing toyoufor not ending the conversation before your feelings were injured.”
Gwen blinked, startled out of her lingering humiliation.
“You realized I was close enough to overhear your conversation?” She could have sworn she’d stayed out of his direct line of sight. “And how did you know he hurt my feelings?”
“In answer to your first question: Yes.” His lips quirking in a wry smile, he lightly stroked the knuckles of his free hand over the apple of her flaming cheek. “In answer to your second question: Your face is very expressive.”
Oh, gods. If her face wasthatexpressive, he definitely knew she was planning to touch herself to the memory of him in a skintight crop top.
Despite the utter humiliation of that prospect, despite knowing that he was merely pantomiming affection for observers again, she couldn’t help herself. She leaned into his hand, because it was strong and steady. Because even the smallest whisper of affection from such a reserved, restrained man felt like a shout of devotion, and she wanted to bask in its glory and forget its falseness for one fleeting moment.
When his hand finally fell away, her foolish heart sank too. Flustered, unsure what to do or say, she made a show of looking around the breach site for any items they might have left behind. Unexpectedly, she found herself making direct eye contact with Blair Herka.
Halfway across the clearing, the general was watching the two of them leave. At least until Josiah Goodling approached her to say something.
After one last sidelong glance at Hugh and Gwen, she turned to the demon.
“Instead of teleporting, I’ll join you in the helicopter, General.” Goodling’s words drifted to Gwen on a brisk snap of wind. “We can determine our next steps along the way.”
She didn’t envy either of them. SERC officials and the common human government would now have to tackle a mountain of difficult tasks: Making certain no stray zombies had survived. Dealing with the dead creatures’ remains. Alerting all Zone residents that the danger had passed. Repairing the Zone’s communications networks. And worst of all, gathering and identifyingthe creatures’ human and Supernatural victims—then locating and contacting any next of kin.
Gwen’s next inhalation shook, and her vision blurred.
So many living beings killed in service to some selfish, evil power grab. The thought of all the neighbors she might never see again…
“Gwen?” Hugh’s clasp of her arm tightened slightly. “Are you okay?”
Not really. She was grieving and processing trauma of various sorts. She was exhausted. And although it was the least important issue at hand, she absolutely hated knowing that Hugh’s mentor disapproved of her. Even if Hugh wasn’t truly her boyfriend and never would be.
“It’s just been a long week.” Not a complete rendering of her present emotional state, but true enough. “Anyway, Max wants us all to meet at his home to discuss our next steps.”
Lorrie’s SUV had appeared through the trees, only a few strides away. On the brittle, brown grass beside the vehicle, Lorrie and Kip appeared to be wrestling over a gently steaming tagine of mysterious provenance.
“We should drive to—” Hugh began.
With a triumphant shout, Lorrie grabbed hold of her cousin’s cold-stiffened nipples and twisted viciously. Kip cried out and doubled over, arms now crossed protectively over his bare chest.
“Karma’s a bitch, and so are you, bro.” Lorrie stood over him, arms akimbo. “That’smymerguez sausage stew. Hands off if you want your nips to stayon.”
Still groaning piteously, Kip raised both middle fingers.
Hugh shook his head. “As I was about to say, we should driveto Max’s residence immediately. As soon as Kip recovers from his, uh…”
The demon paused, searching for the right words.
“Purple nurples,” Gwen supplied.
