I stare at the four men, who also look at me in total confusion. “A human?” one of them, his broad chest rippling with enough muscle to put Mr. Olympia to shame and holding a staff about as big around as my wrist, asks his compatriot warily. “Are you sure?”

“She is who the stone led us to,” the apparent leader, the black-haired one among them, says. In his hand is a stone, and I swear I can see it pulsing.

“The stone has to be wrong,” says another. He at least sounds normal. The others so far have an accent I’ve never heard before. “She’s no faerie.”

Fairy? “What the hell are you talking about?” I demand. “The only fairies I know do their thing around New Haven’s Tickle District. And they’re men.”

The four men, their pajama bottoms and short boots standing out in the alleyway even though they’re wearing them like Hefner nouveau is all the rage in fashion, look at me in confusion before Archer Boy shrugs. “Yes, I agree with Jacob. She can’t be the one.”

You know, being talked about in the third person is one thing. Being talked about in the third person while four handsome, chiseled, and almost impossibly athletic-looking shirtless and armed men discuss you being ‘wrong’ is another. “Uh, hello? Stop talking like I’m not here. Who the hell are you people?”

I know I should be calmer. I mean, I am a cop. But I’m totally confused, still in shock, and covered in vampire flesh. Forgive me if I sound awfully ungrateful. These men, or Paranormals, most likely, just saved my life. Now, if I only knew what kind of Paranormals they are.

Thankfully, the giant with the big stick in his hands doesn’t seem all that perturbed. “Forgive us. We are the queen’s Guard for Her Royal Majesty Queen Cassina XI, may her glory reign forever. Who are you?”

“May her glory . . . excuse me? Who the hell is Cassina?” I ask, bewildered. I don’t know if it’s just that my adrenaline is starting to ebb or my brain’s starting to wake up again, but I’m at least thinking a little bit.

For one, I’m not sure what these guys are. First glance tells me they appear human, but unless these four just happen to all be ultra-hot fitness models who like to carry weird-looking medieval weapons, I’d bet my next paycheck they’re not.

For someone tasked with knowing about the Paranormal, it’s unnerving not to know what they are. Whatever they are, though, I pissed them off for sure, as even the casual-sounding one looks like I just pissed on his grandmother’s Cornflakes. “She’s our queen,” he growls, taking a step closer. “And you’d do well to show respect to Her Highness. We may have spooked you by accident, but that doesn’t mean you can act like some scuzzy bint.”

I take a step back, feeling threatened but at the same time feeling odd things happening to my body. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking at the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. Or that I’m not extremely attracted to them. Part of it is their bodies . . . but it’s something else as well. It’s almost like I somehow connect with them.

Where the fuck is Joe? I think, reaching behind me. It’s one of the reasons cops are supposed to always go out in pairs whenever dealing with Paras, even though Joe and I play fast and loose on that rule at times. We know we can both handle ourselves . . . to an extent.

It’s got to be the hormones. I’ve picked up a bit of a resistance to vamp ‘mones. I can at least keep a straight head around them. But everyone’s got that line inside, that place where stress, weirdness, and unknown shit can get through whatever defenses we may have. Whoever these four are, I’ve obviously started to feel influenced by them. There’s no other way that I’d be noticing their chiseled bodies and how sexy they all look, or my own body’s reaction, otherwise.

I’m compromised. I back up, surreptitiously reaching behind me for my other weapon. It’s old-fashioned on the Para Justice Squad to carry a normal piece, but I’ve run into too many regular humans who are getting their needs met with Paras to not trust a good Glock. Meanwhile, I keep my ears out for Joe.

“Jacob, stop,” says the beautiful sooty-haired one sharply. More than the others, his voice has a cultured air about it, as if speaking an old form of English. “She is clearly frightened after being attacked.”

“I’m not scared,” I retort with as much authority as I can muster. Scared? Oh, yeah, I’m scared. And I’m pissed. My hand freezes inches from my backup piece, not wanting to pull it unless I must. “I’m Detective Eve Carter and I take out Paranormal trash like that for sport.”

Jacob rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “You hear that, Cole? She says she’s not scared. And she’s a murderer too.”

“I’m not a murderer,” I growl, shivering despite myself. “I’m a detective, charged with keeping the law. I just happen to specialize in dealing with and interacting with the Paranormal population of Old Haven.”

“Is that so?” asks Jacob, taking a step closer. His eyes are so gorgeous, silvery with gold flecks radiating from the center, that I almost feel like I’m falling into them. His eyes gleam, and he smirks. He knows I’m compromised . . . he must. Maybe these four are some form of vamp I’m unfamiliar with? “What kind of Paranormal creatures would you say we are?”

My knees start to tremble, and in my thin top, I can feel my nipples stiffen. Jacob’s eyes also widen, and I swear his look changes from mostly teasing and angry to equal parts anger and a desire to turn me around, push me against the fence, and fuck me as deep as I can take. Desperate to regain some control of myself, I shake my head violently. “Wait a minute. Back the fuck up!” I cry. I can’t believe how out of control this has gotten. “I need you—”

“Jacob!” Cole says sharply. “Space. She obviously isn’t prepared for us.”

Jacob growls and backs up. “I know her kind, Cole. Her job is to enforce the Apartheid laws the humans have passed over all Paranormals. She’s no power, just a woman with a gun and a laser.”

I shake my head. While they showed up at an opportune time, they did just kill a vampire, even if it was done to protect me. And they’re standing in the middle of Old Haven, a clear no-carry zone, with enough medieval weaponry to make the Dread Pirate Roberts nervous. I need to arrest them, but . . . holy shit, they’re hot! My heat level is rising just being near them, and I can see it in their eyes too. Jacob’s not the only one who wants me. I think all four would love—

Eve! snaps a voice in the back of my mind. Paras can have powers, remember? You’re potentially compromised!

Right. I need to keep myself under control. I reach back again for my gun but freeze when Cole stops me cold with a held-up hand. His eyes are just as inviting as the others but somehow different. The others want to devour me. Cole’s eyes burn with a different desire. That, as much as his hand, stops me.

“You’ve been having headaches,” Cole says, his gold-speckled eyes staring at me intently. “But they come and go like waves on the shoreline of your mind.”

My jaw drops. Tonight was the worst one, but he’s right. For almost a week now, I’ve had a constant headache. “How?”

“Hearing voices that aren’t yours inside your head,” he continues, ignoring my question. “You look at people, and you feel like whispered voices are tickling in your head, if they could only be focused on.”

“How did you know that?” I ask, shocked. I’ve always had good cop instincts. I can usually read people relatively easily . . . but since the headaches have started, it’s been stronger than simply reading people.

“Your danger is very high,” Cole says. “You need to come with us. For your safety. I swear, on my own life and honor, my compatriots and I shall not hurt thee.”

“Hold up a minute,” I reply, shaking my head again. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And can you please stop talking like that?”

Cole glances at Jacob, who shrugs. “Fine. Don’t blame Cole too much. He doesn’t get to this realm very often. He’s a bit behind the times,” he says. “The longer you stay here, the more damage you will cause to this place and those around you.”

“What are you talking about? I protect people. I stop terrible things from happening. I swore to protect and serve!”

“Not now. Things change. You’re changing,” Jacob says. “As for protect and serve . . . that’s our job right now.”

“Bullshit.”

Cole speaks again. “I beg thee . . . come with us where it’s safe so we can explain what you are.”

“I can tell you what I am,” I growl as I draw my backup weapon. “I’m one pissed ass cop who’s about to go Deadpool on your ass if you don’t stop talking gibberish.”

The four glance at each other, not nervous but more with looks of ‘now what?’ Meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out where Joe is, but I don’t have time for that. “I’m placing the four of you under arrest. Now down on the ground, and drop the Kung Fu fighting gear.”

Before any of them move, a car comes blazing up and spins around. I glance back and see that Joe finally has his ass out of neutral. “Joe!”

I turn back to the four . . . but they’ve disappeared into the night.