Free Stone Cold Lover by Christine Warren Page B

thought that had him shifting in his seat. She was only a human, he reminded himself as he cleaned his plate. Humans barely lived long enough to register in a Guardian’s consciousness. Why should he feel this one would be any different?
    She would not, he told himself sternly. He must remember that whatever strange sensations she stirred within him, Felicity was simply another fragile human in need of his protection from the Darkness. He would answer the threat to her, aid his brothers in ensuring the Seven never escaped their prisons, and then return to his rest until the next time evil threatened.
    It was all very straightforward.
    Really.

 
    Chapter Six
    Montreal General Hospital—l’Hôpital général de Montréal—occupied a sprawling complex atop Mount Royal itself, between Cedar Avenue and Côtes-des-Neiges. Fil herself had only ever been there a couple of times in her life, to visit a friend who’d been involved in a bad car wreck. She did, however, remember how to get to the emergency room, and where to ask for information.
    She headed there with a determined stride, her stone-faced bodyguard looming behind her like a determined shadow. She’d felt his gaze on her since before they left the café. You’d think he’d be sick of looking at her by now, but no. He just kept watching, like he expected her to do a trick or something. She felt like she ought to be wearing tap shoes, just in case.
    No, that wasn’t fair, she admitted silently. He watched her because he figured she might snap at any moment, and frankly Fil couldn’t blame him. She could feel how tense she was; she practically vibrated with it. Until she’d gotten the news about the cultist surviving the explosion, she hadn’t realized just how heavily she’d been counting on that not happening.
    Oh, she’d rationalized the possibilities. After all, a guy who could throw spells at strangers like softballs might have a trick or two up his sleeve to protect himself from a little dynamite, or whatever he had used, but it had seemed so far-fetched. According to all the laws of physics that Fil understood, people standing directly in the paths of bombs didn’t live to tell the tale. Period. They ended up as grave-faced stories on the evening news, not continuing threats to the safety of others.
    She had so badly wanted all of this to be over. If the cultist was dead, the secret of her identity would logically have died with him. Spar would have no reason to hang around and protect her, and she could wave him away before going on with the life she’d always known.
    So what if Ella wanted her to join their little Justice League? Nothing obligated Fil to do it. Just because she could see things about people that others couldn’t didn’t mean she had abilities like Ella. She’d never been able to affect others the way her friend could. The way she saw auras qualified her for reconnaissance at best, not full-fledged battle with the forces of Darkness.
    And by the way, could she please just take a moment or twelve to get over the fact that there were in this world things that actually, literally qualified as the Forces of Darkness?
    Šū das.
    The familiar curse word failed to make her feel any better, and thanks to modern conveniences she couldn’t even slam open the doors to the emergency room with excessive force. What did a girl have to do to do a little venting around here?
    She blew out a frustrated breath and slowed briefly to allow Spar to draw abreast. Reaching out, she pinched the sleeve of his shirt and tugged to get his attention.
    “Listen,” she murmured. She’d have whispered, but unless the man knelt beside her, the sound would never have reached his ear. “Let me do the talking. I doubt anyone will buy that we’re family, so chances are we won’t be able to get in to see him, but I might be able to worm out an update on his condition. If he’s conscious and talking, we’ll come up with another plan to get to him.”
    Spar