Demon Hunting in Dixie. Lexi George

its way up from Evie’s belly to her chest. She was going to lose it, going to laugh right in his face. And then Mr. Primeval would kill her, because this was not a guy with a sense of humor. She covered her mouth with both hands and managed to turn her attack of the giggles into a coughing fit instead.

      “I’m sorry.” She wiped her streaming eyes. “Allergies. Conan the Barbarian is a fictional character, a fantasy warrior. Big guy with black hair and a sword. I think he had blue eyes, though, not green.”

      “Fictional, you say?”

      Evie nodded.

      “Good. Then I will not have to kill him.” Brand fell silent. After a moment, he said, “She refers to my garb, does she not? Ansgar and I do not dress as other men of your culture.”

      “Yeah, you could say that. It would be an understatement, but you could say that.”

      “Ansgar, we must remedy our appearance. We are in violation of the directive against conspicuousness.”

      “Do not let it trouble you, brother.” Evie swallowed a sigh. Ansgar’s voice was as cool and soothing as a dip in the creek on a hot summer day. “We have disregarded the warrior code in any number of ways since coming here. One more infraction should not make any difference.”

      “I have broken our code, not you.” Brand’s tone was stiff. “Leave lest you suffer the consequences of my actions.”

      Leave? Evie felt a stab of dismay, which was ridiculous. Why should she care if he left? It wasn’t as if Whaley Douglass and Ansgar of the Splendiferous Abs and Ass were going to get it on. Looking at him hurt, for crying out loud, and she was . . .

      She was plain old Evie.

      “No, I think I will stay,” Ansgar said. Evie darted a glance at him and froze, trapped by his unblinking silver gaze. “I find I’m in the mood to break a few rules myself.”

      “Very well,” Brand said. “Is there a reputable tailor in this town, Mistress Evie? My friend and I need new attire.”

      With an effort, Evie broke eye contact with Ansgar and looked at Brand. “Uh, yeah, there’s a men’s store right down the street. They carry some big and tall stuff for the Wilson brothers.”

      “You have my thanks.” Brand strode toward the door. Hand on the doorknob, he turned and looked back at Ansgar. “Brother?”

      “I will follow in a moment. You go ahead.”

      The bell on the door clanged in protest as Brand slammed out of the store, leaving Evie alone with Ansgar. She flashed him a tremulous smile. Boy, oh boy, he made her jumpy. Picking up the cardboard box she’d brought with her that morning, she scurried over to her display table. Her hands shook as she unloaded the carton and rearranged the rows of soap. She tried her best to ignore the hunk on the other side of the room as she replenished her stock of almond and honey bath bars. She was adding her latest concoction to her men’s line—a soap for hunters made with olive oil, oak bark, dandelion root, and cedar wood oil—when her skin prickled with awareness. Somehow, without making a sound, he was behind her. She could feel him. She spun around. He was right on top of her. God, he was beautiful. His pale blond hair and his strange eyes seemed to radiate light. No human man had a shine to him like that. It was hypnotic, mesmerizing. She could not move. He was a wolf and she was a rabbit, and he was going to gobble her up unless she did something to break the spell.

      “Your friend seems a-a little intense,” she stammered.

      “He is a hunter and single-minded in his pursuit of what he wants . . . as am I.”

      She jumped when he reached out and removed her floppy gardening hat. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. She stared up at him, feeling self-conscious and nervous. This guy was so perfect, and she was so . . . not. She was a big blob, an awkward, ugly thing compared to his shining perfection. Why was he paying attention to her? It was some kind of cruel trick.

      He lifted a long, red curl, and examined it. “Why do you conceal your fire with an ugly cap and your beauty beneath a shapeless gown, Evangeline? You cannot hide your true self from me.”

      Evie gasped. “Who told you my name? Nobody has called me Evangeline since my mama died.”

      “Evie is the name of a frightened, lonely girl. Evangeline is a beautiful, strong woman. You are Evangeline.”

      “Yeah, right, this coming from a guy like you.”

      Ansgar’s brows drew together. “What does this mean, ‘a guy like me’?”

      “Oh, come on, don’t make me say it. You’ve seen yourself in the mirror.”

      He smiled, and Evie thought the top of her head would blow off. Wow, this guy was something else.

      “You find me attractive in a physical sense?”

      Attractive, who was he kidding? He had to know he was drop-dead gorgeous. He’d probably heard it a thousand times before from a thousand other women. Did he need another female to tell him so? Did he need Whaley Douglass to stroke his ego?

      No.

      No, she did not think so.

      She looked him square in the eye—a very un-Evie-like thing to do—but for some reason around this guy she was something else, too. “Let’s say you don’t exactly suck in the looks department.”

      He tilted his head, as though considering her words. “Not to suck is a good thing in your culture, is it not? You use sarcasm. It shows spirit. You are not at all the meek, timid mouse you pretend to be.”

      Taking her by the arm, he pulled her toward the door.

      “Wait, where are we going?”

      He gave her another bone-melting smile. “You will accompany me to the tailor’s to purchase a new suit of clothes so that I am not conspicuous.”

      “Mister, you’re six-foot-four if you’re an inch, and you look like a cross between Thor and an escapee from Rivendell. The clothes don’t exist that would make you inconspicuous. Besides, I told Addy I’d mind the shop.”

      “Then you will close the shop. At the tailor’s, we will select what you like. I want to please you.”

      Evie stared up at him in confusion. “Why? Why on earth do you care what I think? I’m nobody, and you just met me.” With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she looked around for the hidden camera. “This is a joke, isn’t it? Meredith put you up to this. It’s some kind of sick reality show. That’s great, really great. Well, you’re going to have to get yourself another stooge, ’cause I’m not going anywhere with you.”

      She spun around and marched behind the counter.

      Ansgar followed her. “Evangeline, I do not jest with you. I do not know how. What has Adara told you about me and Brand?”

      “She didn’t tell me anything. She started to tell me and Meredith came in. You and Brand came in right after that. So, see, I don’t know anything. Innocent as a lamb, that’s me. You can go out of here knowing your secret is safe, whatever it is.”

      “I see.” He sighed, as if reaching a decision. “I said I was going to break the rules, did I not? Telling you the truth will be my first transgression.”

      Evie prided herself on her intuition, and her instincts were on high alert. She was not going to like what Ansgar was about to tell her. She held up her hand to ward him off. “Look, mister, don’t bend any rules on my account. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, you know what I mean?”

      “But I want you to know.” Ansgar stepped closer. Evie sidled back, and he stopped. “Brand and I are Dalvahni.”

      “What’s that, like Italian?”

      “No. The Dalvahni are a tribe of immortal warriors. We hunt demons called the djegrali through space and time. We came to this place in pursuit of them. Several of them,