Infamous by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page A

powerful than he is.”
    “How so?” Nick asked.
    “Honestly, we’re not sure. It’s one of those things where we can see into the future, but you have some very distinct and exceptionally diverse paths you could follow and until you choose, we don’t really know what will happen to you, or what you’ll do.”
    Nick frowned at that. “We? Who’s the rest of the group?”
    “Speaking in the royal sense of the word.”
    Uh-huh. Nick wasn’t so sure she was being honest about that. He was dying to know who ‘they’ were, but he’d been around Kody long enough to know she wouldn’t divulge anything.
    “But we can alter my future, right?”
    “That’s the plan,” she said wistfully. “If you give in to the demon side of yourself, you will destroy everyone around you. You won’t be capable of love or compassion.” Her words sent a shiver down his spine as he remembered the way Ambrose had attacked him. She was right. The last thing he wanted was to become that version of his future.
    “What mangy, nasty rat died on top of your head, and why would you keep it there?”
    Nick frowned at the angry tone from two booths over. He looked up to see Wren, one of the busboys, trying to clean an unoccupied table that was filled with dishes, while a man with a small group in the booth next to it harassed him. Tall and lean with blond dreadlocks that fell over his face, obscuring most of his features, and all of his turquoise eyes, Wren didn’t appear much older than Nick. Extremely antisocial- as in Wren took it to a whole new level uniquely his own- he seldom spoke to anyone. Rather, he functioned like a ghost, moving ninja-style through the restaurant and doing his job without comment or complaint.
    What the moron antagonizing him didn’t know was that Wren was a tigard. Half white tiger and half snow leopard. And like a mighty shinobi, he could strike fast and hard with very lethal accuracy.
    Nick held his breath for the bloodshed he was sure was imminent.
    “Hey, freak! I’m talking to you ,” the customer in the booth behind Wren called out. The man looked to be in his early twenties and beefy enough to back his animosity. If Wren were human. “Are you deaf as well as dumb and grungy?”
    His cronies in the booth with him laughed while Wren ignored them. Without so much as twitching an eyebrow, he pulled the empty glasses into his plastic tub and stacked up the small plates.
    “Ted,” the overly siliconed woman beside him whimpered in a strident, nasal tone that begged for her to take lessons from Wren’s silence, “have mercy on the poor retard. He is just a busboy, after all. It’s actually nice of them to hire someone who is obviously mentally defective. Everyone should hire the handicapped.”
    Nick looked around for his mom who would take the woman’s head off for saying that. He’d been smacked in the back his head by her enough to know better than to say something so vicious. Those lightning fast, out of the blue head whacks also explained a lot of his own mental damage.
    “Yeah,” Ted snarled in response, “but that hair is stinking up the place and I’m trying to eat here.” He lobbed a ketchup soaked french fry at Wren. It landed on his white uniform sleeve and slid down it, leaving a long red stain.
    Wren went ramrod stiff.
    In that moment, Nick saw the tigard in Wren. The way he held himself low and rigid reminded Nick of a cat in the wild targeting its prey before striking.
    The tiger lies low not from fear, but for aim.…
    Wren blinked, then seemed to calm himself. He wiped down the table, picked up his tub, and moved on.
    At least he tried to.
    As he walked past the booth, the man shoved him. Wren stumbled and almost dropped the dishes. But at the last minute, true to his tigard genes, he caught his balance and kept the dishes from spilling out of his tub.
    “That’s it, boy,” Ted sneered. “Run home to your mama.”
    Wren met Nick’s gaze and the pain those words wrought