Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Saiden
Saiden nudged a severed limb to the side to clear a path to the couch.
He grimaced when the prop left a streak of blood on the laces of his steel toe Harley Davidson boots.
He rarely cared much about material possessions, and if he needed something, he just chose the most durable and practical.
For the most part, he never bought anything he didn’t need save for his boots.
They weren’t the most tactical or the highest quality, but they were his one vanity.
They also never went out on rogue hunts with him primarily because he didn’t want to end up with them covered in blood.
Ouch.
Leaning back against the threadbare couch, he closed his eyes and listened to Cora move about in her bedroom.
She’d let him know that she messaged her friend saying she was going to spend a few days with her father, and they could leave once she packed up some clothes, but there had been a somber tone to the way she said ‘father’ that pricked up his ears.
Not dad or papa. Father.
Apparently Cora’s relationship with him fell under potentially lengthy backstory, and he would have to ask her about the history there later.
Crossing his legs at the ankles, he folded his arms and mentally berated himself. No, he didn't need to ask her a thing. The less he knew about this human the better. Get her to Marquin, get her wiped, and send her packing. Her life story was not his concern.
He listened to her throw some clothes into a backpack along with what sounded like an absurd number of pill bottles, then she was striding back into the living room.
“Okay,” she proclaimed, reminding him of a determined little pit bull. “Let’s do this.”
She really believed she was going to convince Marquin to let her keep the memory of her script. It was almost adorable. Most humans he encountered lacked this level of conviction for anything in their life.
“Great,” he said, getting up from the couch and carefully picking his way through the junk on the floor. “Let’s get this over with as quick as possible.”
Content to wade straight through her mess, Cora beat him to the door and held it open. “My thoughts exactly. I’m already behind schedule and unless you’ve changed your mind, I still need to find a new lead actor. If I miss the deadline for Screamfest, I’m going to stake you.”
Not likely, he thought, but refrained from voicing the obvious.
When she wasn’t being annoyingly obstinate, he found her little vicious streak somewhat entertaining.
Saiden tossed Cora’s bag into the trunk of the McLaren and peeled out toward the highway. He expected Cora to grab her cell to do whatever it was humans did all day on their phones, but the device stayed tucked away in her purse.
“You’re not going to play on your phone?” he asked casually, pulling onto I-5 North.
“I’m not really big into social media,” she said, hitting the button to recline the seat back a little and resting her hands behind her head. “Plus I figured you wouldn’t let me use it anymore. Afraid I’ll leak vamp secrets or something.”
She was right, he had been prepared to take the device from her.
The internet was hell on their kind. So much so that Baylin spent nearly all his time on his computer tracking any potential rumors that might hit too close to home.
On the flip side, modern tech had made hunting rogues considerably more efficient, so he couldn’t fault the humans too much for their technological addictions.
Still, he’d been expecting a fight from her.
He shook his head. This was better. They’d both keep quiet and make the drive in peace.
But if that was what he truly wanted, then why did the need to fill the silence weigh so heavily on him?
“So…” He cleared his throat and glanced over at her.
With her eyes closed and her face relaxed, she looked even more beautiful.
Like a sleeping angel. Her pulse told him she wasn’t sleeping, though.
In fact, it was beating a bit faster than when he’d first met her.
Was she still nervous about being around him?
“You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” he asked, needing something to pull her from her faux reverie.
An inch at a time, her head rolled over so she could look at him. “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“And you believe me?”
“I do.”
“Then why is your heart beating quick enough to rival a hummingbird’s?”
She sat up and gave him her full attention. “I don’t know, maybe because it’s almost pitch black outside, and you’re pushing a hundred miles per hour?”
This again. She really had no faith in his abilities.
“I would have thought you’d want to get this over with faster,” he remarked as he darted around a slow-moving truck.
“Yeah, but faster doesn’t mean dick if we die in a fiery crash. What’s that saying on the billboards? Slow down and arrive alive?” She bit her lip and sank back into her seat. “Or unalive in your case. You are dead, right?”
He resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel, mostly because he didn’t think it would help with her increasing discomfort.
He really had no desire to spend the next few hours answering a slew of questions about his kind when she wouldn’t even remember it twenty-four hours from now.
Although, if it took her mind off his impeccable driving skills, then perhaps he could indulge her curiosity a little bit.
He just wouldn’t think too hard about why he cared so much about her comfort level.
“Here’s the deal,” he started. “I recognize that this is a lot for you, and you’ve probably got a million questions. If it’ll help you relax and accept that we are not going to crash at any point during this trip, then I’ll answer… Let’s say three. You get three questions. Choose wisely.”
He flicked the cruise control switch and settled back, preparing himself for what would no doubt be a painful conversation.