They say the streets are dangerous at night but I've never been scared. Or rather, I've never looked scared. That's the trick, you see – look tough as nails and no one will bother you much, even if you're a chick. It was something I'd put into practice many years ago when I first found escape on the streets. Don't show fear – ever, period, end of story. Fear was like chum in the water to the sharks, to the men and women that would take pleasure in your misery. Weakness equaled pain on the streets. If you wanted to survive, you had to stay in control and look tough. It was vital.

Of course looking tough doesn't stop you from feeling afraid. Nothing could stop the pounding heart, the sweaty palms, the trembling in your hands that could give you away in a second. But none of that mattered as long as you kept it hidden. Clear the frog from your throat, tuck your hands into your pockets, do whatever the hell you needed to do to lock it down make it look like you were keeping it together.

But that kind of control and determination can be hard to manage. It's easier to succumb to the fear and let whatever's going to happen to you happen. I'd never been of that school of thought, though. I'd rather fight till I lost or try to act tough, which was why I found myself doing my best to walk toward the Dal as normally as possible. I was being followed.

If you're even a little aware of your surroundings, it's not hard to figure out when you're being followed. Unless the follower has binoculars or some super spy specs, they have to keep you in their eye line. And as long as you're in their eye line, they're going to be in yours, plain as day. The idiot darting from tree to tree or doorway to doorway trying to stay hidden is going to be pretty damn obvious. Which is how I'd noticed this particular admirer to begin with – poor stealth skills. He was trying to cleverly disguise his interest in me by standing behind a chalkboard sign.

I'd noticed the man right after I'd parked the car. He was absolutely average looking, not too short and not too tall, not too heavy and not too thin, with a thick head of brown hair and an unremarkable outfit. He was about a block down the street from where I'd parked standing out in front of a human bar I'd never visited, barely lit by the light pouring outside through the glass door. I'd never have noticed him if he had just been standing there.

The bar seemed pretty popular and I'd never seen it on a night when it wasn't busy. There were usually people coming and going, with some inevitably ending up milling about on the sidewalk, but this man was different. He wasn't outside on his phone or waiting for a friend. He was obviously lurking, trying to hide himself behind that stupid chalkboard sign for Margarita Monday and glancing down the street every so often. As soon as I'd slipped from my car he smiled and looked relieved. It was obvious he'd been waiting for me.

I stopped where I stood on the sidewalk and considered for a moment sliding right back into my car and heading home. But I didn't want to go home. I was expected at the Dal, and I could handle myself. I was tough; after all, I'd practically been raised by the streets. And handling unwanted attention wasn't new. There was no need to change my plans. I could take care of myself.

Decision made, I pretended I hadn't noticed him, squared my shoulders, and walked away from him down the street. I'd walked about half a block when I gave into the temptation to glance over my shoulder. Nondescript chalkboard guy was hot on my heels. For one reason or another, I was being pursued.

My heart was beating frantically in my chest when I turned the corner that took me off the heavily travelled street I'd parked on to the less populated one that would take me to the Dal. I tried to keep my eyes ahead, tried to look as confident and collected as possible, but couldn't resist sneaking another peek over my shoulder to see if he'd followed me around the corner.

Of course he had. Shit.

My beating heart ratcheted up another notch and I resisted the urge to run. My boots, though very chic, weren't really made for running, and I was definitely better off walking away from stalker dude than trying to run and falling flat on my face.

On the quieter side street, I could hear his footfalls behind me getting closer. Panic fluttered through me for wild moment before I pushed it away and forced myself to regain control. There was no need to panic. I needed to stay calm and clearheaded. If he got any closer I needed to be ready to fight. And I needed to get to the Dal. There were more people there; I'd be better equipped to deal with creep-o surrounded by people, especially considering that most of those people have superpowers.

Despite the warnings to myself about the speed, I took the last turn to the bar at a near run, feeling my ankle roll painfully as I skidded around the corner into the alley. I fell to my knees, the asphalt tearing through the fabric of my pants and scuffing the skin beneath, but I was up on my feet in a second, ignoring the pain in my ankle and charging down the alleyway at top speed.

I was just a few meters from the Dal and close enough to feel the first tendrils of relief when a hand closed on my arm, wrenching it away from my body and using my momentum to turn me away from my destination. I crashed into a firm chest.

"Let go, asshole," I said as loudly as possible, looking him full in the face and pulling against his punishing grip. "This isn't any way to get a girl." His fingers pinched into the flesh on my bare arms as I struggled against him, scratching him arms, his chest, and anything else I could reach. But my nails had no effect and nothing changed. I was still locked against his chest. After a long moment of concentrated maneuvering, I was able to pull away twist my body just enough to bring the heel of the boot on my injured foot down onto his instep with as much power as I could muster. Kenzi self-defense rule number one – always wear heels.

My scream of pain was almost as loud as his but I had the presence of mind to pull out of his hold when he loosened his grip. I took a couple of running steps away before my ankle refused to cooperate and I went down, hard. The breath whooshed out of me has I hit the pavement and he was on me before I could regain function of my lungs.

"Who would have thought a human would have so much fight," he spat, lifting me to my feet while I struggled to breathe. "I guess it makes sense that the succubus would have such a feisty human." The succubus? What did Bo have to do with this? Was this a Fae thing? Was he Fae?

The thoughts were fleeting and I didn't have time to consider them before my lungs finally decided to do their damn job, and I sucked down air with a gasping breath that was both painful and exquisite. I was working up to breath number two when chalkboard guy scooped me up with a grunt and tossed me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

"Hey," I gasped, trying to sound brave with the little lung function I'd managed to regain. "Be gentle, would you? Person here, not an actual sack of potatoes." The man grunted and adjusted me on his shoulder so I hung completely upside down. I tried to wiggle free but wasn't able to get far. I could feel my ass in the air over his shoulder and his arm closed tightly around my thighs to keep me in place. "Watch your hands," I warned, even though I knew very well I wasn't in a position to talk. I was all kinds of stuck for the time being and if he wanted to get handsy now there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I tried to stay calm and take a full breath he moved us toward the mouth of the alley. Once he left the alleyway there was no telling where he would take me. I had to get out of this and I had to do it now.

I wasn't stupid; I knew there was no way I could fight him tossed over his shoulder. My killer heels would only kill the air if I tried to kick and I wasn't at the right angle to manage an effective punch. I considered scratching for a moment, using my fingernails to dig into the back of the man who seemed to think kidnapping was the proper way to get a girl, but I'd already discovered that my short nails wouldn't cause enough damage to him to make a difference. That left only one option.

My lungs hadn't quite regained their normal function, but I did the best I could. I gasped, coughed, then gasped again, sucking down as much as possible. Then I let loose a scream.

It didn't last as long as I'd hoped nor was it as loud as I would have liked, but it was enough to get a reaction from the man toting me down the alley. "Shut it, girlie," he growled under me, tightening his grip on my thighs. I wondered for one frantic moment if the man was a wolf like Dyson or if there were other Fae that could growl like that before my attention drawn back to the Dal.

Though I was certain things were moving at normal speed, everything seemed to slow down as the door to the Dal flew open and Dyson burst out, half way to wolf and looking vicious. I could read the promise of death on his face from down the alley and had the good sense to be afraid. Then everything sped up.

Before my mind could catch up, I was tossed off the shoulder of my would-be kidnapper and landed on the ground with a grunt. Before I had time to think about how big the bruise on my ass would be tomorrow, Dyson caught chalkboard man in his midsection and they both went down to the ground in front of me. Though the man didn't seem to be a wolf he was definitely Fae. And he was fast.

I pushed with my good foot, scooting along the ground on my butt to get as far from the scuffle as I could. Dyson and the man fought almost faster than my eyes could track, but I tried my best to follow the fight. Though it was hard to tell, Dyson seemed to be stronger than chalkboard guy by far, but creep-o was speedy and kept dodging Dyson's bites. The fight ended abruptly when the chalkboard man jumped to his feet and bolted from the alleyway with Dyson hot on his heels. A few seconds later a car started on the street.

Apparently I had been right to make sure we didn't leave the alley.

I managed to push myself to standing before Dyson trailed back into the alley. He stalked over to me and grasped my arms right where I was sure my douche bag stalker had left hand prints. I fought the urge to flinch. "Are you okay?" Dyson asked, staring into my eyes intently. I wasn't sure how staring into my face would reveal anything about my condition and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I'm great," I said sarcastically, shaking free of his hands and examining my arms. Yep, I was right about those bruises. I glanced up to see Dyson examining them as well and gave him a punch on the arm to draw his attention elsewhere. "You kicked his ass, though. Way to go D-man."

He scoffed. "I wasn't close to kicking his ass. He ran, Kenzi. Surely even you heard him getting into that car."

"Well yeah," I admitted, discretely applying pressure to my sore ankle. I was pleased to discover I could put some weight on it. "But you had him running scared." If it hadn't been for Dyson I would have disappeared into that car with that man. I did my best to repress the shudder that threatened to rack my body at the thought then pushed the idea firmly and completely out of my mind. There would be plenty of time to think of the what ifs later. "Where's Bo?" I asked suddenly, glancing around the alleyway as if she'd materialize out of thin air any second. Actually, I was surprised she hadn't materialized already. I figured Bo would have been the first one kicking D-Bag's ass.

"She left a while ago with Lauren." Dyson looked at me strangely. "What exactly happened out here?" I huffed in a breath, thankful to be breathing normally again, and gave him the story, quick and dirty. Man sees beautiful woman, man follows beautiful woman, man tries to kidnap beautiful woman in the name of the Fae.

"Actually," I said a few moments later, "I'm not clear on that last part myself." Why would the Fae want me? I was just a human. I didn't have any useful skills besides mad fashion sense and a set of sticky fingers. Surely the Fae wouldn't be so interested in my style that they'd resort to kidnapping when they could have just asked me to visit the mall. Could they have been trying to get at me to hurt Bo? The thought bothered me more than it should have.

"I think they were trying to get to Bo though you," Dyson said thoughtfully, evidently adding mind reader to his Fae abilities. "It's smart to try to come at her though you, really. It's a good tactical move; they're target her weak side." Hearing the words come out of his mouth was almost painful. The last thing I wanted to be to my sister was a liability.

I could see his mind cranking away, turning that idea over, looking at it from all sides. It was a little horrifying to watch him think about me as Bo's weakness. I knew I wasn't Fae, I didn't have all the magical superpowers or the super strength that everyone around me seemed to take for granted, but I certainly wasn't weak. I managed to get away from a Fae kidnapper for God's sake. Sure, I'd had an assist from a wolf, but that wolf would never have gotten the chance to attack the douche bag if I hadn't kept my wits about me. I may only be human, but I wasn't weak. And I didn't want anyone to think of me as Bo's liability.

"You forget that the chick you're calling Bo's weak side saved your furry ass from the Garuda," I said with a delicate snort. Dyson focused on me, eyes softening as he took me in.

"Kenzi . . . ."

"Don't," I snapped looking toward the bar, trying to avoid Dyson's gaze. I was sure he was going to say something good intentioned, but I could already tell it was something I didn't want to hear. I inhaled deeply and blew it out in a whoosh. "What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?"

"You don't want to go home?" He sounded surprised.

"No, I want shots." I kept my eyes on the bar and shifted my weight, testing my ankle again. It was stiff, sore, and feeling too big for my boot but I was pretty sure I could walk on it. And I could definitely use a drink.

"Kenzi," Dyson said again, softly, and I turned my gaze away from the bar to look into his face. He looked concerned. "Are you okay?" I got the distinct impression he wasn't just talking physically.

"Of course I am." I waved my hand dismissively and smiled at him, limping out a few tentative steps. "It takes more than a kidnapping attempt to keep the Kenz down." My ankle throbbed violently, then buckled, and Dyson's arm slid around my waist to support me before I even realized I was going down. I could feel the growl reverberating through his chest.

"Dammit, Kenzi, you're not okay."

"Of course I am," I said, pushing myself up on my good foot and trying to pull out of Dyson's grasp. He wouldn't release me. "It's just a sore ankle. It'll heal and I'll be absolutely fine." I took a step toward the Dal, gripping Dyson's shoulder tightly as I limped over my sore ankle. I was pleased that he moved forward with me.

"You'll be fine after you see a doctor. Your ankle might be sprained or broken, and you walking around on it isn't going to help. You're not just going wake up healed from this, Kenzi. You're not Bo." I'd seen it coming from a mile away. It wasn't Bo, of course I wasn't, and it was a totally fair statement to make since she was the one we both knew who took sexual healing to a whole new level. But just because I saw it coming didn't mean I was ready to hear it.

"Of course I'm not Bo," I practically hissed. "I'm just Bo's weak little human." I pulled away and Dyson let his arm drop from around my waist, looking surprised. He reached for me again as I limped forward but I swatted his hands away. I paused and took a deep breath, trying to reel in my emotions. After a moment, I turned to him with what I hoped could pass for a smile. "Thanks, D, but I've got this."

I limped into the Dal leaving Dyson standing outside in the darkness.