Page 381 of The First Taste
The young man is rounding the vehicle with a sneer curling his lips. He looks at Hades, his expression spiteful as he climbs in the car.
Hades starts to jog. “Hey!”
The doors creak closed. The woman arranges the little girls on her lap and throws another harried look at Hades. Her expression says that she’s very worried about the stranger jogging straight for their car. She locks the doors, all the blood draining from her face.
“You’re scaring her!” I call to Hades. “Please, come back!”
I stop at the edge of the parking lot, my heart in my throat, my voice sounding panicky.
There is a grinding mechanical sound as the man tries to start the car. Hades reaches the vehicle just as the young man manages to turn the engine over. He throws an angry look at Hades and puts the car in drive.
Hades, running up to the passenger side window, watches as the young man begins to pull the car away. In a fit of I suppose frustration and anger, Hades moves back, winds up, and throws a punch at the car.
He manages to hit the back window, his solid fist smashing into it, the safety glass cracking into a million tiny pieces and leaning inward with a shattering sound. But it doesn’t break; it’s not meant to.
The girl gives a shriek. The guy yells something at Hades and steps on the gas. In a second, their tires squealing, they are hauling ass out of the parking lot.
Hades stands, watching them go, his breathing ragged. I trail after him into the parking lot.
His knuckles are scraped and bloodied on one hand. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. His eyes are fixed on the car, watching it drive away, tracing it across the highway until it disappears around a curve.
I move closer. Hades only notices me when I pick up his wrist, examining his injury. His eyes tighten and he pulls at his hand.
I don’t let go, though. Instead, I shoot him a look and bring his hand closer, trying to see it better. There is a particularly wicked shard of glass sticking out. I wince, looking up at him.
“Let’s go,” I say, taking him by the elbow.
“Go?” His cheeks are still flushed. “Go where?”
“You are going to sit down and let me clean up the mess you’ve made of your knuckles.”
Hades stops me, resisting. When I look back at him, he’s giving me the most puzzled look.
“How could ye?”
“How could I what?” I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes on his face.
“Ye stopped me from saving that woman!”
I shake my head. “No. I stopped you from pounding that man’s skull in. She could’ve refused to get in his car if she thought it was dangerous. Instead, she didn’t even think twice before hopping in the passenger seat. She was too scared of you.”
That seems to knock some of the wind out of his sails.
“Scared of me?” he repeats. As if it’s a foreign concept or something. “Why would she be scared of me?”
He really doesn’t get it. I draw in a deep breath, making myself expel it fully before I answer.
“Because you are a big, strange man who looks like he’s going to beat the shit out of somebody. You don’t know the situation; you couldn’t even say for sure which language they were speaking. Yet you had already decided exactly what was going on and how you were going to handle it.” I suck my teeth, looking at him. “I would’ve been scared, too. Actually, scratch that… I was scared.”
He scrunches up his face. “What did ye have to be scared of?”
Heat blooms high in my cheeks. But I know that a moment of embarrassment is worth it, in this critical moment.
“I was scared for you,” I say, keeping my words quiet. “What if he had a gun? Did you even stop to think about that?”
Hades swallows, his green eyes hard on mine. He stares at me for a beat. Then he jerks his gaze away, out over the ocean.
“He didn’t.” His voice is a mere whisper. His expression is blank, but I can read that by now.
