“It doesn’t matter,” Grayson says, his voice a strong tenor against the blur of sound in my head. “We’ve got to go. It’s the only way we can find a cure. The shaman has supposedly helped others before.”
He says nothing about our condition, but judging by the way Lacey and Colt’s nostrils flare, a single burst of movement, they know.
Or at least, they suspect.
“The sooner we get on the road, the better. Apparently, their current stop is near enough we can get there by car and we want to catch them before they pack up and bolt,” I reply. “Ten hours.”
Lacey hops closer with a cold smile. “There’s no way we’re letting you go alone.”
“Come on,” Colt says with a groan. “Seriously?”
“Call in the reinforcements,” she urges. “We’re getting on the road tonight.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way I could ask you to do that. If we could borrow a car?—”
“You didn’t ask,” Lacey interrupts. “We’reoffering. It’s dangerous and we already know a thing or two about handling moon-mad wolves. And vampires.”
She and Colt share a meaningful look, and another shiver races along my spine.
“You’re joining the mission,” Grayson says dryly.
“You bet your ass we are.”
Lacey brushes past us to start her calls, and I’m not sure if this makes things better, or worse.
Chapter
Thirteen
Colt drives us across the state.
The hours trickle by, the unbroken lines in the center of the road stretching on and the night sky dotted through with stars.
Grayson and I huddle together in the backseat, his skin warm without the overwhelming inferno of heat from the moon madness. Rather than the pressure in my head, there’s calm.
Whatever suppressant the witches came up with, it seems to have worked. He’s not scratching or hearing voices.
I’m not constantly aware of our slide into damnation.
It won’t last long, though. Instincts have taught me that much.
“Seriously, we’re never going to make it there in time if you keep driving like a grandma.” Lacey points to the speedometer and Colt’s fingers tighten on the wheel.
“Why does it have to be grandma?” he asks. “Besides, do you really want to get caught by the cops? Try explaining two vampires and two werewolves trapped in a car, heading for a circus of the damned?”
It sounds like the start of a great television show or a terrible joke.
“If you want to keep bitching, then I’ll let you drive and we’ll deal with the consequences,” Colt gripes.
“At least we’d make better time.”
Their version of sweet consists of arguing playfully, and small touches. They insult each other and soothe the ache away with a quick look, a slow smile. It’s…nice.
It’s the easy peace of two people who really care about each other and know exactly what they bring to the table. They have history together, but their past doesn’t define where they are today.
And the transition to full vampire only seems to have deepened their bond from the last time I’d seen them together.
My knee bobs and I slap a palm against it for something steady. My body doesn’t really care what I want, though. It never does.