Page 338 of Primal Bonds

His neck itched. He rubbed it, looked around, inhaled deeply.

Nothing unusual. Still, that eerie feeling someone was watching tripped up his spine. Luc? Blaer? Or just one of Langdon’s warriors, here to harass Adric?

He peered into the shadows. But if it was a night fae, he or she remained concealed. Just in case, Adric bared his teeth at the darkest corner.

Footsteps sounded behind him. He whipped around, hand going to the switchblade in his pocket.

A wild-eyed human kid aimed a handgun at his head.

Cat’s balls. He really needed to clean up his neighborhood like Jace had.

He let go of his switchblade, raised his palms. “Easy, now.”

“Your wallet.” The kid’s throat worked. He clutched the gun in two shaking hands. “Give me your w-wallet and ph-phone, and you won’t get hurt.”

“I don’t think so.” Adric didn’t bother going clawed, just aimed a booted foot at the fool’s solar plexus.

The kid wheezed and folded in on himself, dropping the gun.

Adric snatched it from the air before it hit the sidewalk. He opened the chamber and shoved the bullets into a pocket.

The human was on the ground, sucking air like a beached fish. Adric shoved his fangs into the would-be robber’s face. The kid’s eyes went flashbulb. Terror scented the air.

“Yeah.” His mouth curved. “You messed with the wrong dude. Next time you rob someone, make sure he’s not a fada. This is my territory, asshole. I see you around here again, and you’re dead. Understand?”

The kid’s head bobbed. He tried to speak, couldn’t.

Adric nodded at the gun. “And I’ll be keeping this.”

The kid’s breath finally whooshed in. “Yes, sir.” Tears filled his eyes. “I…just needed something to eat. I—I’m hungry. P-please don’t hurt me.”

Adric hesitated. The kid didn’t smell of alcohol or drugs. He was just a skinny teenager scared out of his mind. His quilted puffer jacket was a size too large and his sneakers a size too small.

And Adric could scent the truth in his words. The kid was hungry.

He shoved the gun into the pocket of his jacket. “What’s your name?”

“Shawn.”

“Well, Shawn.” Adric picked him up by the scruff of his coat and set him on his feet. “You know Bruce’s Creole Kitchen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell the cook that Lord Adric sent you. He’ll let you work for food. If you’re a hard worker, he might even give you a job.”

The kid’s thin face lit. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re not shitting me?”

Adric growled.

“S-sorry, sir. Okay. I will. Thank you, sir.” The kid bobbed his head several times. Then he gulped. “Lord Adric? Fuck. I’m really sorry. I—”

“Get going,” Adric suggested.

“Yes, sir.” Shawn scurried back the way he’d come. When he reached the corner, he shot a look at Adric over his shoulder and then broke into a run.

Adric continued down the street. He was almost to his house when his nape prickled again. He heaved a breath.

Maybe he should’ve slept at Marjani’s den after all.

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