Chapter Nine
Sage
It takes forever to get anywhere on foot, especially without a phone to guide me through a new place. But I ditched mine weeks ago—too traceable. I learned that the hard way. It's inconvenient, sure, but survivable. Everything in my life seems to fall into that category lately.
At the bus station, I manage to get a ticket for tomorrow morning—the only option in the direction I want to go. Which means I'm stuck in this town for the night. Great.
I find the cheapest motel on the outskirts, one of those places with flickering neon signs and a front office that smells like stale coffee and cigarette ash. Definitely not winning any awards for cleanliness, or charm. But it's far enough from the bar and the guy I just robbed, so it'll do.
For a brief, wicked second, I consider stealing a car.
It's the kind of town where people leave their keys in the ignition, bless their trusting little hearts.
But I stop myself. There's a big difference between lifting a couple hundred bucks and taking an entire vehicle.
I don't need local cops chasing me on top of everything else. Darius's people are enough.
I use some of the cash to grab a few second-hand shirts and pants from a thrift shop, a pack of plain underwear from Dollar General, and a few packs of processed food that looks about as appetizing as a pile of wet moss. Maybe less so. Still, calories are calories.
As I make my way back to the industrial edge of town, toward the depressing little motel, I spot a sliver of green breaking through a crack in the pavement—a stubborn patch of weeds and a lone dandelion sprouting through the asphalt. I crouch beside it with a small smile. Life always finds a way.
I hover my hand over the fragile cluster, letting my energy pulse low and steady. Just a little to help it along. The sprouts swell, green and reaching, and the dandelion unfurls slowly, catching the fading rays of the late-afternoon sun.
For a moment, the ache dulls. The fatigue, the chaos—it all quiets.
"Talkin' to flowers there, beautiful?" a voice cuts through the air, sharp and grating, followed by whistles and the kind of laughter that makes my skin crawl.
I turn, slowly and carefully. Four men loiter near the motel's side wall, the kind of clientele that makes sense in a place like this. Bloodshot eyes, twitchy hands, that loose-jawed haze that means drugs or drink—or both.
I say nothing, just straighten and head for the stairs.
"Aww, don't be rude now," one of them calls after me, his tone mock-wounded. I peg him as their sad little alpha—skinny, sun-dried, but cocky with the boost of backup and whatever's frying his system.
I step sideways as he moves to block me.
He steps too. Now he's in my way.
"Yeah," another chimes in, breath sour even from a distance. "We're just bein' friendly. You here alone?"
Because that's a totally normal question to ask a stranger in a parking lot.
"No. My fiancé, a Marine, is back in a few. So maybe keep walking."
They laugh.
"Saw you check in solo," the sidekick sneers. "Don't look like you've got anyone coming."
"Imaginary fiancé," says their leader, grinning. "Hot girls always got one when they're acting stuck up."
I sigh, already done with this game. "You've had your fun. Now get out of my way."
I move to pass.
The leader grabs my arm.
Wrong call.
I twist, hard, yanking him forward on instinct and slamming my knee into his gut. He folds with a yelp. I follow up with a solid kick to the ribs that sends him sprawling.
Second guy lunges sloppily. I duck, pivot, and ram my elbow into his nose.
A wet crack.
He stumbles back, clutching his face, blood gushing between his fingers.
"You bitch!" snarls the third one, red-eyed and twitchy. "You some kinda freak?"
He's seeing something. Maybe it's my strength. Maybe it's the faint glow in my eyes when I'm fired up. Or maybe it's just the acid talking. Doesn't matter.
He reaches under his jacket and pulls a gun.
Shit.
My heart spikes. I can take on drunk assholes. I can't stop a bullet.
The barrel flashes up. A gunshot echoes.
Kayden
The second those dirtbags start prowling toward her, I'm ready to move. But then she throws the first guy like he weighs nothing, and I stop myself.
She's not just fast. She's trained.
The way she moves—precise, fluid, no wasted effort—is a damn work of art. Watching her break that loser's nose? Almost erotic.
But then genius number three pulls a gun, and my smirk dies.
The second I see the glint of metal, I'm already on the move, blurred speed, full focus. The gunshot punches through the air like a hammer to the skull.
I get between her and the barrel just in time.
The impact slams into my shoulder. Bone cracks. I stumble one step back.
Just one.
I lift my head. My fangs drop. The gunman's eyes go wide.
Oh, yeah. You just met the devil. And now I'm sending you to hell.
I lunge. Sink my fangs into his throat.
One violent snap.
Blood erupts hot across my lips. The second guy is still standing, frozen stupid. I rip into him, too, no mercy, no pause.
The one with the busted nose bolts.
I let him get five steps. Then I grab him by the hair, yank him back, and twist. His neck cracks like dry wood.
The fourth one, the one she floored earlier, is crawling away, whimpering, trying to scream but choking on fear.
I stroll over and put a boot to his chest. "What? I just wanted to talk," I say sweetly, then slam my foot down on his neck.
Crunch.
Humans. So easy to break.
I turn back to her, the taste of blood still on my tongue. "You all right?"
She's just standing there, wide-eyed, staring at the mess I made, her mouth slightly open. That soft look of shock, damn if it doesn't twist something in my chest.
"Oh, don't tell me these assholes were part of your little forest protection program," I mutter, glancing around the carnage.
"No… not really," she says, shaking her head like she's trying to snap herself out of it. "You're shot."
I glance down at my shoulder, blood soaking through my shirt.
"Eh. Perks of being a dead husk—I can take a bullet and still bring the charm." I grin, even though it burns like hellfire. Gotta keep up appearances.
She exhales like she's had it with me already.
"Your words, not mine, sweetheart."
Her gaze darts to the parking lot. "How are you even here?"
I shrug, casually. "Followed you. Obviously."
She frowns. "Obviously."
I glance around the motel. Up close, it looks even more like the kind of place where dreams go to rot. "You're seriously staying here?"
She shrugs, stepping toward the door. "Well, the Ritz was full, so…"
"No, you're coming with me," I say, stepping in beside her. "This place is a dump. And newsflash—dead bodies attract attention."
I nod toward the bodies cooling in the lot. No witnesses yet, just a busted CCTV camera hanging by a wire, like the place gave up years ago.
She throws a look over her shoulder, arms crossed, chin lifted with that too-practiced brave face. "I don't—"
"—need my help. Yeah, clearly." I scan the lot again. "Good thing I wasn't asking, sunshine."
She holds her ground. Stubborn little wildcat.
Could I force her? Yeah. Easy. But I'd look like one of those creeps I just tore through. So instead, I soften the edges just a little.
"I took a blade for you last night," I say, voice low. "A bullet today. What's next, a stake through the heart? Do I need to die three times before you admit I'm not the bad guy here? Not yet, at least," I add with a smirk.
Can't go full soft. Gotta keep her guessing.
She lets out a slow breath and looks at the corpses again. Her shoulders finally slump in something like resignation. "I already paid for the night," she mutters.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
Before she can blink, I scoop her up over my shoulder.
She yelps, more startled than scared, and pounds a fist against my back. "Kayden! Put me down!"
"Don't squirm. I've got a bullet hole, remember?" I hiss through my teeth, pain flaring white-hot across my shoulder.
I dash in a blur to my car around the corner and set her down on the asphalt. She wobbles, eyes wild.
"Don't do that!"
I grin and step in, crowding her space. She presses back against the car. "Or what?" I murmur, voice rough. Then I lean past her, click the door open. "Get in."
She glares like she wants to throw a punch, but climbs into the passenger seat without a word.
I slip into the driver's side and start the engine, backing out of this hellhole. We drive in silence.
She stares out the window, lips tight, arms wrapped around her backpack. Tense like she might bolt the second we stop.
As I drive, I watch her from the corner of my eye and try—really fucking try—not to think about her over my knee. How perfectly she fit there. How the shirt rode up, baring those goddamn tattoos, skin flushed and hot under my touch.
How she whimpered when my hand landed. How she shuddered. The scent of her that wrapped around me, maddening and sweet.
How my fangs throbbed like I hadn't fed in weeks.
How every part of me screamed to take. To bend her over, bury myself deep, and keep punishing her until she sobbed the truth into my mouth.
Fuck.
I shift in my seat, trying to ease the ache—not the one in my shoulder. That one I can deal with. It's the other that's the real torment.
"You're hurt. I can help," she says quietly.
"I'll be fine. I'm just a dead body, remember?" I shoot back with a smirk.
She huffs, turning to the window again like I'm not worth the oxygen.
Then, after a pause, softer: "Why did you follow me?"
"I've seen how much trouble you attract. Figured you'd get into more before you leave this town. I was right," I reply, grinning. "Though I've got to say, the kung fu routine was impressive. Knocked that guy's nose into next week."
A small smile flickers on her lips. "What? Upset I'm not some helpless damsel you get to rescue?"
My grin widens. "Maybe a little. You stole a bit of my heroic thunder out there."
She scoffs, but there's no bite in it. "Heroic," she mutters, dry as desert sand.
"Oh, come on. I caught a bullet for you midair. That's gotta earn me at least one hero star, no?"
She tilts her head, considering. "Catch is a strong word, considering you… you know… got shot. But fine. One star. Expires tomorrow."
"You're hard to impress," I murmur, amused.
"Gotta keep you on your toes," she tosses back without missing a beat.
She's softening. Just a little, but enough to make something shift deep inside me.
Damn. It's dangerous how fucking good it feels to see her smile.