Free Iron (The Warding Book 1) by Robin L. Cole

constantly brushing against her arm, her knee; touching whatever little bit of skin it could get away with without me butting in. It must have been throwing one of those glamours Seana had explained to me; the magic facade that it showed humans to keep them from seeing what it really looked like. If I made a run for it, I would be doubly screwed for having let yet another fae know I could see its true face. I didn’t need two scary dudes out there, hunting me down for the so-called Gift that was ruining my life.
    Shit. What the hell could I do?
    I sat back in my chair, guilty over how glad I was that it wasn’t flirting with me. I wasn’t sure I could handle playing along if that thing touched me. When little more than the occasional nod or laugh was needed from me, I had nothing to do but look at it. My wine glass remained untouched, my stomach too sour to consider another sip of alcohol.
    Instead, I studied the Wax Man in quick glances, all the while wondering what it was and what I should do. I mean, it didn’t look all that dangerous. Creepy as hell, yes, but not out-right dangerous. Not like Goliath had looked, with his lion’s teeth and ham fists. How could this thing be feeding off of humans?
    Seana had made it sound like all of the bestial fae did in one way or another. Goliath was obviously one of the more carnivorous types. I was pretty sure I knew how he’d prey upon humans. This thing was different. With no physically frightening features to pinpoint—or features at all, really—I was at a loss for how this thing could eat…
    A chill ran down my spine. It kept touching her.
    My eyes darted down to the hand resting on the table near me. The angle was all wrong to get a good look, but I thought something about them was off. They didn’t look human, with strange ridges peeking out at regular intervals, running down each finger to its hidden palm. I watched the hand it had casually rested against Jenni’s. It’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. That hand appeared to be glowing; pulsing faintly. I knew immediately that it wasn’t a trick of the light. That milky mist under its skin was moving, swirling.
    If I had thought my stomach felt knotted and sick before, I had had no idea the depths to which it could sink. It was feeding on her. It was sucking something out of her; some emotion or energy that wasn’t visible to the human eye. Whatever the hell was making that smoke beneath its skin was something it sucked out of humans.
    I had a feeling that this job was a smorgasbord for a creature like him—tons of contact with drunk, emotional ladies who never even knew that they were prey. Before the veil had been ripped from my eyes, I had seen what it had wanted everyone to see too: sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, a slight cleft in the chin. Nothing over the top gorgeous but maybe that was what it wanted. Too good looking would have attracted too much attention or, perhaps, put some of the less inebriated women on guard. Maybe it wanted to be seen as cute but harmless run-of-the-mill boy next door. The kind of stranger that you could trust. The thought made my stomach roil with a whole new emotion: rage.
    “…must get lonely though.” I still had no idea where that voice could be coming from, but something about its husky, sympathetic tone made my ears perk up. It had Jenni’s hand cupped between in its own. Judging by her empty glass and the forlorn look on her face, she wasn’t in a great state of mind. While I had been trying to think of a game plan to use against our interloper, she had drifted into the danger zone. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Bryan” sidled his chair just a little bit closer and that sparkle-swirl where their hands met increased. “You know, we close up soon. As soon as I show Ramona how to cash out and lock up, I could walk you home. We could watch a movie, talk a bit more—”
    Oh. Hell. No.
    Fueled by fury and the last dregs of my earlier buzz, I reached over and