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waist up, but luck was still with her. The flunky called Sosa had managed to tear a strip of fabric off the bottom of her shirt, but she remained decently covered.
    Apparently unsatisfied, the man darted toward her again, but this time he never made contact. Instead, a large figure seemed to swoop in out of nowhere and plant itself between Daphanie and her attacker. From around the interloper, she could just make out the expression of surprise and irritation on the face of the man who had insulted her.
    “What are you doing here, Guardian?” the large, sticky man demanded. “Don’t try to tell me this piece of trash is one of your precious pets.”
    “I don’t keep pets, D’Abo.” The “Guardian” folded his arms over his chest so that the fabric of his coat stretched across broad shoulders and sharply defined shoulder blades. Only a pair of long top-to-bottom pleats seemed to keep it from splitting open. “And I would be careful about that sort of accusation, if I were you.”
    Even from her compromised viewing place, by craning her head, Daphanie was able to make out the meaningful glance her protector shot in the direction of D’Abo’s entourage. It actually surprised her how much meaning could be packed into a face that could have been carved from stone. Or marble. By some kind of Renaissance master.
    He had clean-cut, masculine features saved from outright beauty by the presence of enough crags and lines to show a wealth of experience behind the vaguely stubbled skin. Daphanie found herself itching to ask him to turn around and face her. She wanted the chance to see him full on. The glimpses she got from behind him and to the side only piqued her interest. It had been a long time since she’d been piqued by a man.
    He didn’t seem to share her curiosity, though. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on D’Abo and the other man’s followers. Daphanie had to admit the accusation had merit. She hadn’t looked closely enough at the crowd of flunkies before to distinguish that the group was made up of two distinct types of follower: one type watched their leader with eager, worshipful attention, hanging on his every word and tripping all over themselves to agree with each pronouncement as if it had just fallen from the lips of God; the second type marched in an odd sort of formation in the man’s wake, eyes straight ahead, faces blank, stopping whenever their leader stopped but never appearing engaged in either the group around them or their wider surroundings. It was like watching a troop of toy soldiers, mindless automatons without any sort of independent spirit.
    It kinda creeped Daphanie out.
    Of course, the lack of self-determination hadn’t stopped the one called Sosa from coming after her the minute D’Abo had issued the instruction. The minion might not think for himself, but he didn’t hesitate to obey commands. It must feel good to be the king of your own little universe. Daphanie, however, preferred to live in the real world.
    “If the girl is not under your protection, then you have no place in this,” D’Abo said, waving his hand in dismissal and puffing out his chest. “Step aside. It is my right to deal with the creature that has insulted me.”
    “The only right you have here is the right to back off and go somewhere else before you do something I won’t be able to ignore.” The man standing in front of Daphanie never raised his voice above a low murmur, but the tone of command was unmistakable. Even she felt tempted to take a step back, but she’d be damned if she let D’Abo see her do it.
    “I won’t be ordered about by you, Guardian. You have no authority over me.”
    “I am called Asher Grayson, D’Abo, and I am merely one of my kind. Harm the human, and you’ll have the entire Council down on your head. Not to mention the possibility that my boss wouldn’t be pleased if he were to hear of it. Especially when you have no authority over a human woman who did nothing to you