“Who wants to kill you?” the guy asked. He was still looking over his shoulder, but his expression was puzzled.“There’s nobody there,” the girlfriend told me.“You’re making them think they can’t see you, aren’t you?” I said to Patch, awed by his power even as I despised his use of it.”

“Shh!” the guy beside me hissed again.“Blame him,” I told the guy, pointing at Patch. The guy craned his neck back. “Listen,” he said, facing me again. “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll get security.”“Fine, go get security. Tell them to take him away,” I said, again signaling Patch. “Tell them he wants to kill me.”“I want to kill you,” hissed the guy’s girlfriend,”

“I watched him pitch the ball at a table neatly lined with six bowling pins, my stomach giving a little flutter when his T-shirt crept up in the back, revealing a stripe of skin. I knew from experience that every inch of him was hard, defined muscle. His back was smooth and perfect too, the scars from when he’d fallen once again replaced with wings—wings I, and every other human, couldn’t see.“Five dollars says you can’t do it again,” I said, coming up behind him.Patch looked back and grinned. “I don’t want your money, Angel.”“Hey now, kids, let’s keep this discussion PG-rated,” Rixon said.“All three remaining pins,” I challenged Patch.“What kind of prize are we talking about?” he asked.“Bloody hell,” Rixon said. “Can’t this wait until you’re alone?”Patch gave me a secret smile, then shifted his weight back, cradling the ball into his chest. He dropped his right shoulder, brought his arm around, and sent the ball flying forward as hard as he could. There was a loud crack! and the remaining three pins scattered off the table.“Aye, now you’re in trouble, lass,” Rixon shouted at me over the commotion caused by a pocket of onlookers, who were clapping and whistling for Patch. Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.“You got lucky,” I said.“I’m about to get lucky.”

“You didn’t tell me she was so soft on the eyes,” he said to Patch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with a heavy Irish accent.“I didn’t tell her how hard you are on them either,” Patch returned, his mouth at the relaxed stage just before a grin.”

“Are you crazy?" I said."Crazy about you.""Patch!""Don't worry, we've got time.""How do you know?"He staggered back a step, with his hand over his heart. "Your lack of faith hurts.”

“You want me to list characteristics of a … ?”“Potential mate, yes, that would be helpful..."Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Patch. He was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We’re waiting.I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I lookedmore composed than I felt. “I’ve never thought about it before.”“Well, think fast.”“Could you call on someone else first?”Coach gestured impatiently to my left. “You’re up, Patch.”Unlike me, Patch spoke with confidence. He had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable”

“I didn’t break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,” Patch said.”