Chapter 9
Nine
BECKS
I thought for sure Haven would wake while I was inside getting us a room at the beaten-down motel, but when I return to the SUV she’s still asleep in the passenger seat, curled tight, knees hugged to her chest, her head resting against the cool glass.
Each breath drifts slowly and steadily, fogging the window with every exhale.
I should wake her. After what she’s been through, her body needs rest, real sleep in a bed, not folded awkwardly in a passenger seat, but I can’t help but use the moment to take her in, something I haven’t fully allowed myself to do yet.
I told myself it was because there wasn’t time, that we were fighting for Haven’s life, which is true, but not all of it.
The full truth is that I needed time to brace myself.
I watched Haven from afar the day before and then defended her against the demon-possessed attacker, but now as I study Locklyn’s twin, it’s hard not to see my best friend and first love.
Physically, they’re just so alike. Of course there are subtle differences: Haven’s hair is a shade redder than Locklyn’s, her jawline a touch less narrow and more defined. But they have the same delicate beauty.
I wish I could look into her eyes and know if they are the same honey amber color, or if she also has a dark starburst in her left eye.
As I stare at Haven, a renewed determination to protect her rises in my chest. This is Locklyn’s family. I’m going to do my best to make sure Locklyn is reunited with the sister she thought she’d lost before even knowing she had one.
I clear my throat, trying to wake Haven, but she just mumbles something in her sleep that sounds like “Five more minutes, Mom,” and snuggles into the seat a little deeper.
All right, this one’s a deep sleeper, I think as I reach across the driver’s seat and center console to wake her.
Laying my hand on her knee, I shake gently, but she still doesn’t wake. Saying her name doesn’t help either, so I climb back into the driver’s seat to try again.
I’m starting to wonder if I can just pick her up and bring her into our room without waking her, when suddenly her eyes pop open with a gasp.
Before I even have a chance to say anything, her hand is pointed at me and a stream of magenta and purple fire erupts from her palm, hitting me square in the chest with enough force to shove me from the SUV.
I land on my ass on the pavement, wondering what the hell just happened. When I glance down, there’s a charred hole in my shirt.
That sucks.
A car door slams and then Haven comes careening around the front, her gaze wild and filled with horror.
“Becks, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze drops to my chest, and she makes a scared noise when she sees the burnt hole in my shirt. “Oh no, oh no. How bad are you hurt?”
With a grunt, I shove off the ground, coming to my feet as I rub a hand over the spot I was hit. I’m a little sore from the impact, but as a dragon shifter I’m practically fireproof. It would take a whole lot more than a burst of flames to burn me.
I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“Fine! Fine? You’re burned,” she says, pointing at my chest. “We need to get you to a hospital or something.”
Her head swings around as she quickly takes in our surroundings. It’s not much. It’s a small motel in the middle of nowhere, off a deserted country road.
She spots the small office where I just rented a room from the eighteen-year-old kid behind the counter. He’s probably already back to sleep in his chair, which is how I found him fifteen minutes ago.
“Maybe they have a first aid kit,” she says, and then starts for the office.
Before she can get far, I grab her, turning her toward me. I crouch down to catch her eye, but she’s frantic, jabbering about how she burned me and needs to get help.
I try to let her know that I’m okay, but she’s spiraling, not listening to anything I’m saying.
With a huff, I do the only thing I can think of, and in a single motion I pull my shirt off completely. The moment I’m bare, Haven’s gaze drops to my chest and she finally stops babbling.
“I’m fine. See?” I rub a hand over the spot she hit, showing the smooth, unburnt skin. “Your fire doesn’t hurt me.”
She blinks twice as if in a trance, and then slowly looks up at my face. “But . . . how?”
“I’m a dragon shifter. I’m fireproof.”
Her mouth drops open as understanding dawns.
“It took me by surprise, and yeah, knocked me on my butt. Nothing hurt but my pride. Promise.”
Haven’s gaze drops to my chest another time, as if double checking that what I’m saying is true. Color appears high on her cheeks as she spins in the other direction, clearly embarrassed. I don’t know what to do except change the subject.
“I got us a room,” I say. “You had a traumatic night. You need rest. You can get some sleep and then we can tackle tomorrow when it comes.”
“Okay, good idea,” Haven says, refusing to face me. She’s flustered and she shouldn’t be. It wasn’t a big deal.
“Which room?” she asks.
“Twelve.”
“Perfect,” she says with false cheerfulness, and starts heading in the wrong direction.
“Um, Haven,” I call to her.
“Yeah?” she asks, still walking the wrong way.
“Twelve is over there.”
She stops and glances over her shoulder to see me pointing in the opposite direction.
“Oh, shoot. Right.”
Fishing in my pocket, I pull out the key.
This place is so old it’s a metal key instead of a keycard, with a large plastic tag attached with the room number written on it in marker.
I toss it to her. I have to work to keep the smile off my face when she almost fumbles it, her cheeks reddening further.
“I’ll grab our stuff,” I say, and head toward the tailgate to get her duffel and my backpack of clothes and essentials.
I hear her scurry off. Only then do I let myself chuckle.
By the time I have both bags hefted over my shoulders and get to the room, the door is ajar. I give a slight warning knock and then enter, freezing the moment my foot crosses the threshold.
“What. The. Hell?”
Haven is standing in the middle of the room with a shocked and slightly horrified expression no doubt similar to my own.
The room is like something from a slasher film.
I think it’s supposed to be someone’s interpretation of the honeymoon suite, but gone very, very wrong.
Everything is red. Red like we’re standing inside of a human heart.
From the walls to the carpet, to the giant heart-shaped bed in the middle of the room. Off in the corner is what I think is an elevated tub, also red.
Haven turns to me with wide eyes. “I don’t know that I can sleep in here.”
I don’t have words. When I asked the clerk for a room, my only stipulation was that it have two beds. There’s a red couch off to the side that I assume must be a pull-out.
I shake my head, finding new horrors in the room the longer I look: heavy red velvet curtains hang limp in the corners, a garish painting in a crimson gilt frame stares down from the wall, and the bedside lamps wear red shades that bathe everything in a syrupy, bloodlike glow.
Even the pillows tossed across the heart-shaped bed are silk and scarlet, as if the room is bleeding from every surface. And then . . .
I lose it.
A full belly laugh erupts, and even though I know this isn’t the right time, I can’t stop.
This day has just been . . . I don’t even know. A day.
“It’s not funny,” Haven says, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m going to have nightmares about this room for the rest of my life.”
The look on her face, pinched and disgruntled, makes me lose it even worse.
“I mean, it’s a little funny,” I manage to get out between laughs.
A twitch of a smile lifts one side of her mouth. She smooths it away but only manages to hold it together for a few more seconds before cracking. Soon enough, she’s laughing so hard along with me that she’s wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.
Despite everything, I feel lighter when I finally rein it in. Seeing a smile on Haven’s face also does something to me . . . in a good way.
I watched her laughing with her friend on the grass when I spied on her earlier in the day, but she was too far away for me to see how her eyes lighten when her mood does, or that she has slight dimples in both cheeks when she grins. Locklyn doesn’t have dimples.
“Wait here,” I say. “I’ll go ask the clerk for a different room.”
She shakes her head. “No way are you leaving me in this room of horrors,” she says, and then scurries after me.
My good mood stays until we talk to the clerk about switching rooms.
“But you said you wanted two beds,” he says, confused. “That’s our only clean room with two. The couch pulls out.”
I run a hand over my face and glance over at Haven. It’s her call.
Sleep in the honeymoon suite from hell, or share a bed?
“I’m not going back in there,” she says, and I give a nod.
Good choice.
“We’ll take the other room.”