The Shadows (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #13)(124)

“What? That even real males need airsick bags sometimes?”

“No.” She kissed him again. “That somebody can say ‘I love you’ without speaking.”

His chest puffed up. He couldn’t help it. “Check me out. A Casanova—who’da thought.”

Finishing the ginger ale, he tossed the empty into the trash bin five feet away, and put the pictures in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Getting to his feet, he offered her his arm. “How would you like a nutritionally deficient, but totally satisfying meal? We’re talking real chemicals and complete over-processing. The kind of stuff humans traditionally enjoy in this setting and later get home and have to take TUMS for?”

“Sounds delightful.” She took hold of what he offered. “I look forward to whatever is served.”

Trez gave the attendant a wave—and then considered maybe throwing in a couple of bodybuilding poses just to get his guy card restamped.

The concession stands were behind and to the right, and as they walked around the foot of that roller-coaster, he glanced up, way up, at the metal scaffolding that held the track in the air. Man, he was glad he hadn’t seen this view from the base before heading up there.

The more he thought about it, the more his case of the vapors threatened a return, sweat breaking out on his palms and across his upper lip, but good news came in the form of the distraction of the hot-dog stand that had been opened just for them.

Stepping up to the counter, he held Selena tight to his side, catching her scent as well as that of the shampoo and the soap she’d used before they’d left the house.

A human female with a round body and a nice smile came over, putting aside her copy of People magazine. “What can I get you guys?”

“Good heavens, so many choices,” Selena said.

The menu was all lit-up red panels with yellow lettering, offering the kinds of things that were guaranteed to taste great going down and cause trouble once they were in you. But like he’d told her, that was what antacids were for.

“What are you having?” she asked him.

“I’m going with the Coney Island special,” he announced. “With a high-test Coke, extra ice.”

“You got it,” the server said. “Ma’am, you know what you want?”

Selena frowned. “I really want a hamburger. But am I missing out if I don’t do the hot dog?”

“You can have some of mine.”

“Great, I’d like a hamburger with cheese and some French fries.”

“No problem.” The woman pointed at another section of the menu. “You want something on them?”

“I’m sorry?”

“On your fries. Like chili, cheese, jalape?os—the list is over here.”

As Selena considered round two of her options, Trez took the opportunity to study his queen’s stunning profile. Those lips of hers were nearly irresistible, and the more he stared at them, the more the residual burn of all that adrenaline overload shifted from fight or flight to pure, undiluted lust.

With a discreet move, he had to rearrange himself.

He couldn’t wait to get her home. Get her naked.

His eyes drifted down to her breasts. The Pata-Gucci jacket she had on had obligingly customized itself to those curves he loved so much—

“Trez?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have any money? I didn’t think to bring human—”

He cut her off. “You’re not paying for nothing.” Taking his wallet out, he said to the lady, “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Let me give you something, then.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I know why you’re—”

Trez jumped in, putting a hundred down on the Formica and sliding it forward. “Take it. For being so kind to us.”

The woman’s eyes popped. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

For one, he didn’t want her to keep going and make Selena feel like some kind of charity case. For another, the human had come out on a cold night for only a couple of hours of work. Holidays were coming for her kind. No doubt she could use the extra cash.

“Wow. Thanks.”

As the woman got to work on the food, he could feel Selena looking at him with respect, and didn’t that make him go all puffed up again in the chestral region.

Talk about getting his guy card stamped—f*ck posing like Ahnold. The way she stared up at him? He felt big as a mountain.

A couple of minutes later, they were heading over to a picnic table painted a screaming blue color and sitting down side by side.

The air was cold, the food was steaming hot, the sodas were frothy and sweet. Handling the overstuffed buns was tricky stuff, with both of them going tilted heads and mop-up napkins, but that was even its own sort of fun. And the conversation, when they could manage it, was about the taste and the spice and the tongue burning … the roller-coaster ride … what they were going to do next … whether they were going to have cotton candy or hot-fudge sundaes for dessert.

It was magnificently, beautifully, resonantly normal.

And as he sat with his female, and maybe wiped off the corner of her mouth with his napkin, or shared his soda with her, or laughed when she said they’d better do the carousel next because it was only two feet off the ground, he soaked in the memories until they permeated his mind, body, and soul with a glow he had never felt before.