Vengeance Borne by Amanda Bonilla Page A

dollars down on the table. “Sorry to drop a bomb and run, but I need to get out of here. Your energy’s a little suffocating.”
    The bomb dropping was low on his list compared to her leaving. If he pressed her to stay, it might freak her out. He’d never felt compelled to be in any woman’s company for more than a little while, but voicing that would only scare her off. She didn’t seem like someone who’d appreciate a stalker, and he sure as hell didn’t want to come across as one, no matter how curious he was about her. Besides, he could probably use some time alone, too.
    “No problem. But dinner’s on me.” He slid the twenty back to her. “I guess I’ll have to wait for tomorrow if I want more information. But, just so you know, this isn’t necessarily the strangest thing I’ve ever dealt with.” She raised a challenging brow and he shrugged, biting back the words he wanted to say. You know the day I met you at the gas station? Well, I dreamt about you the night before. You were being attacked by a wannabe prom queen of all things, and she gave you the cut on your face. Sometimes I do that—dream about things—before they happen.
    “Don’t be so sure,” Jacquelyn murmured.
    “Don’t you be so sure.” he shot back at her.
    She shook her head and the sensation of pleasure fled, chased by frustration, and mingled with confusion. The constant shift of emotion drew on his energy. He was wiped.
    “How are you getting home?”
    “Riding my bike. I’ll be fine. I do it all the time.” She gave a quick little wink, an expression almost more threatening than endearing. There was more to her than met the eye and Micah couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

    A little alone time was what Jacquelyn needed to clear her head, and she used the time to think. The comfortable temperature of the near-autumn air relaxed her. They had another month yet of decent weather, after that, it would be too cold for early morning or late night bicycle rides. Which reminded her, she needed to get her car fixed.
    Unfortunately, the night hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. She couldn’t help but wonder if Dean Winchester would have handled the situation any better. Probably not. The one thing most demon slayers had in common whether they were fictional TV characters or not: they all sort of suffered in the communication department. The Sentry wasn’t concerned with how articulate she could be or if she was just the right amount of tactful and feminine. She’d had one job since she was born: seek and destroy the supernatural scum of the earth. Didn’t exactly make for a sweet disposition. It’s not like she was offering up a glass of lemonade to go with a stake to the heart. Jacquelyn let out a gust of breath as she pedaled up a steep incline. She’d always wished she could be more articulate. But Micah seemed to take it in stride despite her uncontrollable word vomit and less than stellar people skills. Surely Micah heard words like “Bearer” every day. Ugh. Way to go, dumbass. She’d really fucked that up.
    As she coasted into her driveway, Jacquelyn tilted her head toward the nearly full moon. The Hunter’s moon. Brightest as it occurred at the autumnal equinox. Perfect for predators, and she fit right in. How would Micah react to that little tidbit of information? Finn had always reveled in the hunt. Killing didn’t bother him. But for some reason, she sensed Micah would care. She didn’t think his highly empathetic nature would work in harmony with killing. No matter what they hunted.
    The moonlight led the way as she parked her bike in the lean-to that served as a garage, the shadows forming beside her no more troubling than they would be in light of day. She didn’t fear the shadows but what lurked behind them. Nothing to fear at the moment, however. Jacquelyn could sense the energy signature unique to the supernatural, taste their rage as a tingling on the back of her tongue when they were near.