13. CHAPTER 13
Tilly pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park, the clock on the dash showing 3:46am. The dark and deserted street is lifeless, minus the twenty-four-hour convenience store glowing on the corner. Its harsh fluorescent lights flood the surrounding area, only broken up by the metal bars crisscrossing the windows.
He turns to me, his eyes a muted red in the darkened car. “I need you to go in there and get a list of items for us. I would draw too much attention.”
“Okay.” My unease is clear in my tone.
“We need clothes, an electric razor, fingernail clippers, sunglasses, a burner phone, meat, and any other toiletries you might need. Oh, and food for him.” He gestures to Wyatt. “You got all that?”
I nod. “I’m assuming I’m glamouring them since we don’t have money?”
Tilly nods. “Your assumption is accurate. I suggest connecting to their psyche right when you enter. It’ll prevent them from getting nervous while you gather items.”
I unhook my seatbelt and reach for the door handle.
“I’ll go with you to help you carry things.” Wyatt scurries out of the car.
I climb from the vehicle, and Tilly leans closer to the open door. “Be quick about it, keep your heads bowed away from the cameras, and still go to the checkout line and have her bag the items. Pretend to pay then leave.”
I nod and walk away from the car, with Wyatt silently following.
We enter the storefront, and the door dings loudly. An older woman looks up from a book propped open in front of her. She gives a slight incline of her head in a tired greeting then returns to reading. We walk toward the toiletry section, and Wyatt snags a plastic shopping basket. I pause, pretending to read the back of some kind of foundation but focus on pushing my mental fog out to her. It’s sluggish and wafting slowly. I close my eyes and push even harder. Finally, I feel it: a slight snap. And I slip in. She’s distracted by reading and doesn’t even try to fight it. I latch on easily. She’s exhausted and lonely. I push some thoughts into her mind to just keep reading. My book is so interesting I hardly even notice anyone moving around the store.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. Wyatt’s watching me intensely. “Did it work?”
“Yeah, I think so. It was harder with her being so far away. I’m not sure how long it will hold. We should hurry.”
He grabs the razor and clippers while I search for some shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant. I snag some t-shirts and shorts from racks as we pass through different aisles. There’s a ton of junk food but no meat in the place, or at least not anything raw or unprocessed. Everything here will destroy my system and make me feel like shit. Wyatt grabs some bread, peanut butter, and jelly then snatches some sunglasses on an end display.
Wyatt drops the items into the basket. “I don’t see any phones.”
“I don’t either. Let’s just checkout and leave.” I steer us toward the counter and push more thoughts into her mind while we approach. These customers are barely memorable. Just check them out quickly. And then I can get back into my story.
I place the basket on the counter, and she pulls it closer to herself with glazed eyes.
My chin tucks downward, angled away from the camera. Pretend to scan the items then bag them.
She grabs item after item and moves them near the scanner without scanning before placing them in a plastic sack. Once she’s done, I lean over the card reader like I’m running a card.
“Can you print out a portion of a receipt for us?”
The woman holds down a button and paper spews from the machine.
“That’s enough. Hand it over then go back to your book.” The woman hands the paper over then lounges back, reopening her book. Confusion and the tang of panic hit me right as we turn away. Looking back over my shoulder, I push calmness into her mind. “There’s nothing to worry about. Forget we were here.” She doesn’t look up from her book but the tension eases from her shoulders. Keeping our heads down, we make for the door.
Wyatt takes the bags from me, and we head back to the car. A shiver works down my arms from the crisp air biting through my thin clothes. Wyatt wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. What is this between us? I know feeding from him probably caused some feelings to stir, but I think there was some attraction before that too. Is he really interested in me or is this just situational? His warmth envelopes me, and I snuggle in closer. Maybe I’ll worry about that later.
He opens the front passenger door for me, and I slide in.
“They didn’t have meat or phones.” I click my seat belt. Wyatt’s door slams closed, and Tilly shifts the car into drive.
“I’ll find us some after we locate a safe place to rest.” He pulls away from the curb, and we head further into town.
We stopped at a shady motel by the highway. Tilly wanted one room so we could game plan together, but because of our reluctance, he agreed to two conjoined rooms. He left to get a phone and more food, his eyes still red and fangs on full display. I wanted to question his control, but he’s already done so much for us and seems to know what the hell he’s doing. I’m choosing to pick my battles and trying not to worry about things out of my control.
Which is basically a joke. My whole life is a constant shuffle of different worries—most of which are out of my control—and I still worry myself sick about them.
Finger-brushing the tangles from my clean damp hair, I turn towards the bathroom door as the shower shuts off. The urge to go to Wyatt is almost crippling. I can smell his desire every time he looks at me. Maybe if we gave in fully, it would scratch the itch. Relieve us both. My fangs lengthen at the thought. Even if he doesn’t want anything more from me and it’s only situational, it would feel so good to lose myself to him. To feel his firm body against mine. To feel something other than pain, fear, and worry.
The door cracks open, and steam wafts from the gap. The mirror instantly fogs, and I turn from the reflection of his bare torso. He walks out in only gym shorts, and I stare at the window, angling away from him while my face heats. I’m sure my eyes are as crimson as my burning cheeks.
“That felt great.” He flops down on one of the twin mattresses, the springs squeaking with a bounce. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.” My voice is slurring from my fangs. Fuck! A cold sweat breaks out, and I turn more towards the window, pressing my lips together tightly.
He scoots to the edge, the springs creaking with the movement, and my back stiffens. He can’t come closer to me. I won’t be able to not touch him, not taste him. I can’t control this right now. I’m going to scare the shit out of him. Or do something I regret. What if I hurt him?
He stands and hesitantly takes a step towards me. “You don’t seem it.”
“I am.” The harshness of my tone stops him in his tracks. I breathe in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth. “Just stay there.”
His heart rate speeds up, and the faintest lemon fills the room. “Teagan? What’s going on?” But he doesn’t advance, giving me the space I need.
I clear my throat and tuck my hands under my arms. “I’m just having some control issues right now.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen a lot the past few days. You aren’t going to scare me away.” How did he know I was worrying about that? His tone is warming, but I’m not sure I believe him. And the look of fear or rejection would destroy me right now. He sits down on the bed and pats the mattress beside him. “Just come sit down.”
I turn from the window with my head lowered, eyes locked on the old shaggy carpet that must have been from the 70s, and approach the bed. Choosing to sit on the other twin across from him, keeping my head tucked to my chest and my long lashes hiding my eyes. My fingers clench in and out of fists.
Control. I need to control my breathing. Then I’ll be able to control my fangs. They just need to retract.
Deep breath. And retract.
My chest aches.
Retract… and nothing. Please fucking retract.
Retract, God dammit.
I flinch when his thumb and pointer finger grasp my chin tenderly. He’s gentle but unyielding as he lifts my face upward. Our eyes connect, and I suck in a deep breath. He looks from my red eyes to the indention of my fangs pushing out against my lips, and his woodsy scent crashes into me. His hand slides up from my chin, his thumb gliding against my bottom lip. It drops open automatically, the tips of my fangs now poking free. I’m losing all control. I should put more distance between us. I’ll scare him. Though I smell zero fear from him. Only desire.
No. I’m scaring myself. I’ve never felt this out of control. I don’t know how to handle it or what will come of it. What the hell’s the matter with me? Why does he spiral my self-control out the window?
“You’re so beautiful.” The breath of his whisper brushes against my lips. His smell, his look, his words. They’re destroying my restraint. A whimper escapes my parted lips, and I quickly jump up from the bed, breaking the skin-to-skin contact and dodging around him. I pace in front of the beds, panting to catch my breath.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never had issues controlling my urges before. This is worse than when I was a hormonal teenager. What is going on? Is this the aftermath of one of the fucking tests they did on me?
I breathe through my mouth, trying to avoid his alluring scent. I’m hyperventilating by the time I stop on the other side of his bed. He twists around to look at me, pain etched on his face.
He runs a hand through his wet hair, his voice a whisper, like he’s the one afraid of spooking someone. “Is it me?” His words are uncertain and hesitant. “Am I… Am I doing something?”
I throw my arms out wide. “Yes. No. I mean… Ugh!” I drop in defeat on the other edge of his bed and bury my head in my hands. Tears leak down my cheeks. And why the fuck am I crying? Am I sad? Angry? Frustrated? All the above and more?
“If I’m pushing you. If you aren’t interested… Just say so. I can back off. I never meant to pressure—”
My head snaps up, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not that.” The words are more slurred from my lengthening fangs, now on full display. “I’m losing control.”
His eyebrows form a deep V, his stare and the silence growing thick with the tension between us. He doesn’t get it.
A shudder works down my spine. My eyes lock on the pulsing vein running down the column of his neck, and I lick my lips. “I crave you.” My voice is hoarse.
Dawning understanding crosses his features; his lips part and the woodsy scent overwhelms me with his longing. I pull both legs up under me, perched on the edge of the mattress like a predator waiting to pounce. His body relaxes, but his eyes never leave mine, like some part of his human instincts are telling him not to put his back to me. He rotates slightly, so he’s more lounging on one arm and leg, while the other dangles over the edge.
“Take what you want from me.”
That’s a loaded statement… I want too many things.
I slide across the scratchy duvet, my shorts riding up my thighs with the movement. Wyatt’s hungry gaze eagerly consumes every inch of my skin. He pushes himself up to a seated position and turns, swinging his other leg off the edge of the mattress. Giving me his back on purpose. He knows what I want to do. He’s showing me he’s not afraid. I lean in close, the clean and crisp minty scent making me dizzy. I want more. No, I need more. I run the bridge of my nose against the bare skin of his shoulder and up the column of his neck, pausing with my lips against his earlobe.
I whisper, “Anything I want?”
He shivers against me, but not from fear. There’s no bitterness in the air, only his deepening desire.
His answer is barely audible. “Anything.”
The thin grip I had on my control vanishes with that one word. I whimper and swing around him, straddling his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck as my lips crash into his. His hands drop and squeeze my hips as he pulls me closer.
“Mm-hmm.” My warm core rubs against the hardness pushing through his shorts, and a moan escapes me. He slides his hands under the material of my shorts and kneads my ass. I grind into him, capturing his groan in my mouth.
His tongue explores, stroking deeper and deeper. I didn’t think I had any control left, but when his tongue brushes one of my fangs, I’m sent into a frenzy. Pulling back and breaking our kiss, in the same second, I strike his clavicle like a viper.
He grunts and I take in greedy pulls. I rock against his hardening length and he thrusts more firmly against me, one of his hands sliding up my ribs to brush the underside of my breasts. I bite deeper, moaning against his throat, and he twitches against my core.
The door to our adjoining room swings open with a flourish. I pull back with a hiss, ready to fight the latest threat. Ready to protect what’s mine. But it’s just Tilly, leaning causally against the door frame with a wide grin.
“Are you sharing?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I involuntarily snap my teeth at him. His head tips back, fangs reflecting the room’s light, and he laughs boisterously.
I glance back at Wyatt and quickly lick the wound closed before climbing off him to sit on the other bed across from him. The butterflies in my stomach are going haywire over not enough blood, and my core pulses from denied pleasures. My chin dips low, and I wrap my arms around my waist. I feel fucking stupid, like a silly teenager whose parents just walked in on them. Not that I lived with Patrick long enough to experience that, but I’m assuming it feels like this.
“I didn’t think so.” Tilly strolls in, still laughing to himself. He leaves the adjoining door open and pulls a side chair to the middle of the room. “Good thing I ate while I was out.”
Wyatt adjusts himself and grabs a pillow to place over his lap. Tilly chuckles and digs into his pocket. He tosses a phone onto the bed in front of Wyatt. “Figure you should call the hospital. Try to see if anyone’s looking for you or her. We need to know if they have tails on either of you.” He nods in my direction. “Same with wherever you work.”
My posture stiffens. “And what about you? They kidnapped you too.”
“I’ve already followed up on my end. It was pure luck they stumbled into me. They weren’t tracking me from my residence.”
I sneer. “How do you know that?”
“I know lots of things.” He disregards me like a kid throwing a tantrum and nods at Wyatt. “You. Call.”
Maybe I’m being harsher than I should be. Perhaps my lingering embarrassment is putting an edge to my words. He has been helping us this entire time. But he just rubs me the wrong way.
Wyatt snatches the phone and dials a number. It rings, and then, “ICU, Helen speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hey, Helen. It’s Wyatt.”
“Oh, my goodness!” The woman’s voice instantly warms and becomes affectionate. “Are you okay? People have been trying to get hold of you for days.” Who is this Helen person and why are they on such close terms?
“Say you had a family emergency,” Tilly commands while sprawled out in the chair, his long limbs stretched out in front of him.
Wyatt’s eyes widen, and he covers the mouthpiece, mouthing to Tilly, You can hear her?
Tilly smirks and lifts a single brow in response.
“Wyatt, sweetie?” Helen’s voice flows out.
Sweetie? What the hell? My stomach tightens. Why am I getting so territorial about him? A few kisses and some blood, and I feel like I have a claim or something.
Wyatt shakes his head and uncovers the phone. “I’m okay. I had an unexpected family emergency and I’ve only had time to call now.”
“Oh no. Is everything okay?”
“It will be, but I might be gone longer. I was hoping you could inform Dr. Hart for me to make sure the ER has coverage.”
“Of course, sweetie. Is there anything else I can do?” Claim or not, this many sweeties and I’m fucking fuming.
“Ask if anyone else has checked in or asked for you,” Tilly states while looking at the ceiling.
Wyatt removes the pillow from his lap but fiddles with the edge of the pillowcase. “Has anyone been looking for me or asking about me?”
“I mean, the whole ER has been worried since you missed your shifts and it’s not like you to not call in. We figured something happened, but no one knew what.” The concern is evident in her tone.
“No one else?” Wyatt looks towards Tilly for more direction, but he seems bored and uninterested.
“No, just your department. Are you in trouble?” Helen asks.
Tilly sits up straighter, gaze swinging back to Wyatt. “Tell her no, you’re just stressing, but everything will work out.” He crosses one of his long legs over his other knee and bounces a foot in the air.
“No, Helen. I’m just stressed and overthinking things. It will all work out, and I’ll be back in no time. I’ll call and check in again in a few days.”
“Oh, okay. Take care, honey.” I snort in disgust at the word honey, and they both glance my way. “And don’t stress about this place. It’ll be here when you get back,” Helen continues, and I duck my head, staring at the ugly duvet and avoiding their looks.
“Thanks, Helen. Bye.”
“Bye, sweetie. Talk to you soon.”
The call ends, and Wyatt turns to me. “So, it sounds like I’m not being followed.” He leans across the small space, offering me the cell phone.
I take it from him, our fingers briefly grazing, and it does nothing to calm me. Who was that girl? And why is all of this bothering me so much? Am I really just that exhausted? Or is it him?
“I figured as much. The guys who took us mentioned you were an accident and just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t think they ever intended to take you. It was me they were after.” My voice cracks, and I absently twist the phone around and around in my hand. “Those guys, Jeff and Bret, they were talking about my dad being tested on in a facility in Phoenix.” Tilly’s foot freezes mid bounce. “I overheard part of their conversation while I was waking during their tests.” His feet drop to the floor in front of him, and he leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees, the old wooden chair groaning in protest.
“So, they were looking for you specifically. Could they have followed you from your work or home?” Tilly’s complete focus is on me. My stomach drops low. It’s unnerving for him to be so still and concentrated on something.
“I haven’t been to work in over a week because I was traveling and in a traffic accident on the way back. I left my apartment and took an Uber to the butcher shop and the hospital’s blood bank to restock. They caused an explosion and took us as I was leaving the hospital. I’m not sure who or how long anyone was following me.”
He nods and leans back into the chair, resuming his restless leg syndrome. “Either your apartment or the hospital, then. Someone inside the hospital knew when you were heading out to time the explosion right.”
Wyatt reclines back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t tell anyone.” He looks from Tilly to me, pleading in his eyes. “I stayed outside the whole time, hoping to catch you on the way out.” His mouth pinches.
“Wasn’t accusing you. They took you too.” Tilly scowls while stroking the stubble covering the lower half of his face.
“I did pass a custodian lady on the way in, and she was on the elevator with me as I was leaving.” Oh fuck. “And I think she was texting someone in the elevator. I was in so much pain I didn’t give her much thought.”
Tilly nods. “So, your apartment is probably fine if the trail starts and ends at the hospital.” His long fingernails rap against the thin wooden armrest. “I’ll check both out and see if anyone is still looking for you guys or tied to that place.”
I don’t have many people to check in with. I’m so new here and already called into work for the foreseeable future because of the accident. But there is Elena.
I dial my mailbox and have two voicemails.
Hey, T, it’s Elena. You said you’d call me back, but I haven’t heard from you. And you haven’t responded to my last few texts. I’m getting a bit worried and would really like to talk. Call or text me back, okay?
End of message. To repeat press 2, to delete press 7, next message press *.
I press star, switching to the message from two days ago.
Hey, T. It’s me again. Things here are getting really bad and I’m getting kind of freaked out. People are going missing. I’m scared. Plus, I still haven’t heard back from you. Please call asap.
End of message. To repeat press 2, to delete—
I click the end button, cutting the call as my gut churns.
“Shit.” I frantically punch in her number, hitting the wrong buttons for the last two. Blowing out a slow breath, I clear it and enter the correct ones then press the call button. It rings and rings, before switching to her voicemail. The automatic voice cuts into me, fear ratcheting up my spine with every syllable. She always answers her phone. Always.
Wyatt, noticing my increasing panic, stands and walks to me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. I hang up then immediately redial. Still voicemail. I drop the phone to my lap in defeat.
Wyatt caringly squeezes my shoulder. “What is it?”
“My friend Elena, she’s not answering. She always answers.” My voice cracks, and I pick at my nail beds in a desperate attempt to not lose my shit in front of these two. “Her message said she was afraid. People have gone missing. And she’s in Phoenix, where we know they have Patrick in a facility. What if they have her, too?” Despite all my efforts, a single tear escapes and trails down my cheek.
Wyatt tenderly wipes it away with his thumb.
Tilly’s sitting completely still with his head cocked as if looking into my soul. The few instances he’s been serious and not fidgeting are so unnerving. I want to move out of his line of eyesight, or hell, even just look away to break whatever intense evaluation this is, but I can’t. I’m trapped in his almost-glowing red stare. Sweat rolls down my back.
“I have a lot of questions, but they can wait.” I swallow and shiver when he looks away from me, breaking that all-consuming connection. “We all need rest then I’ll ensure we aren’t being followed or monitored.”
Wyatt’s head swings between Tilly and me. “You said they weren’t following you. So, again, why are you helping us?” He doesn’t ask it as harshly as I did previously, more curious. I’m just glad he’s able to ask at all, because I’m still struggling to fully expand my lungs. What the hell was that stare thing, and why couldn’t I look away?
Tilly smiles broadly. “Because it’s entertaining.” He swings himself off the chair, and it creaks and groans. “Good night. I’ll check in before I do recon.” He stops in the doorframe of the adjoining rooms. “But don’t disturb me. I need sleep or I get grouchy.” He gives an almost-wicked smirk then saunters through to his room, closing and locking the door behind him. The deadbolt echoes loudly.
The whirlwind of emotions—from lust to worry, from hunger to anxiety—has made my whole body itchy and uncomfortable. Rest will be good. Even if it’s just a little. I crawl up to the head of the bed and slip under the comforter, exhaustion calling to me. It’s been such a fucking long week. Wyatt climbs into the other twin bed and a moment later, he flips the switch on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in darkness. I could easily drift to sleep, but his woodsy scent coasts across the empty space between our beds. I breathe through an open mouth to not smell any more of his growing desire, the minty-ness calling to me. Why are things always more sexually charged in the dark?
Wyatt’s voice is barely a whisper. “Can we trust him?”
Matching his volume, I keep my voice low. “Maybe, but there’s something off with him.”
“Yeah, what’s up with his eyes and teeth…? That’s not normal, right?” The bed shifts, and he turns to face my bed.
“No, not from my experience. It’s like he likes them showing. I don’t know.” I’ve never seen any Vanamisch have them on display as much as he does.
“He’s a little annoying and freaks me out. But he has helped us a lot.”
I turn over to face him. “Yeah, he has. He makes me nervous, though.”
He chuckles humorlessly. “I would say I would protect you, but he’s freaking huge and scary. Not sure how much I could do to protect you.”
Of course, he’s always the protector and rescuer. He probably has no interest in me. This is all his moral duty.
I huff and roll onto my back to stare at the ceiling. “You don’t have to keep pretending. You’ll be free of me soon enough.”
The quiet stretches on. “I’m not pretending.” His voice comes out agitated. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the accident. Even the girl trying to erase my memories didn’t keep images of you away.”
The silence swells, growing more awkward as the seconds tick by.
What do I say that? Is it true? Damn, I want it to be. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since the night I ended up in the hospital. Savior or not, some part of me is drawn to him. It’s because he’s so caring, not to mention hot as fuck. And I want him to be mine.
But I can’t tell him all of that. I can’t let myself get that close to someone else. It will just hurt us both.
“I mean, if you aren’t interested, if I’m being too pushy or something, I can back off.” His voice catches briefly. “I don’t date much. I don’t want to come off as creepy.”
I giggle in the dark and roll back onto my side to face him again. “You aren’t creepy. I just… I just move around a lot. Witness protection program and all. I don’t really date.”
“Got it.” His tone’s not harsh but guarded.
Of course I’m fucking this up. “But…” Hmph. I sigh slowly. “But I am interested. I’m just not sure how long I’ll be here.”
“He’ll get out and come for you again?”
Patrick will always hunt me down. That’s the only thing in my life I’m certain of. “Always. I’m not sure how much longer I can run from him, but I don’t know what my other options are.”
“Isn’t there someone you could tell or get help from? Like your Ambassador people?”
“They run the program. They get me new names, new apartments, new jobs, and take care of the paperwork and glamouring. But they don’t like getting their hands dirty. They would rather move me endlessly than be in the middle of some PR nightmare.”
“So, they’d rather he captures and hurts you?” Harshness leaks from his words.
“No, they’d rather keep me on the move, hoping he gives up.”
“But he won’t?”
“No. He won’t. People who haven’t been around mates don’t understand how strong the pull is for them. He’s basically brainwashed.” I pull my pillow down, holding it to my chest.
“Geez. The Ambassadors don’t realize that?” He sounds so shocked. He just doesn’t get it. He hasn’t lived through the insanity I have.
“No. Mates are rare. Most think it’s just a legend. If I didn’t have my mother’s diaries and the wonderful memories she wrote about him, I’d have a hard time believing it too.”
“Finding a mate sounds intense.”
“It is.” Sadness lowers my voice. “I hope I never find mine.” And that’s the truth. All I’ve ever known is a parent who’s lost his mate. I never got to see the good parts. To me, it’s only the bad, obsessive, and insane parts. No, thank you.
The silence lingers, not awkward but thick, between the two mattresses.
“But you’re still interested in fooling around with me?”
One side of my mouth ticks up at the clear smile and hopefulness in his voice.
“Maybe… Now shut up and go to sleep. I really don’t want to find out what a grumpy Tilly is like.”
He chuckles softly. “Me either.” He flops onto his back, and I let my eyes wander down his sculpted arms, admiring each curve. My blinks become slower and longer.
Maybe if he’s the last thing I see before I drift to sleep, he’ll be in my dreams again.