Chapter 12 Jump Start #2
He traces my cheekbone with his thumb. "I tried to call you, but your number was disconnected, so I've been asking for more jobs near the border so I could be closer to you.
I stay in El Paso a few days a week and manage operations down here.
" His jaw twitches. "Relative freedom is one of the perks of being the new favorite. "
"Is it terrible? Your new vampire life?"
His voice is like a salve on a burn. Soft, and familiar. "No. It's not terrible. You were right about what you said. About belonging, and family, and all that stuff. In many ways my life is better than it was before. I'm strong, I'm valued, I have a purpose... But Sophia…"
"What?"
"None of it means anything without you." He squeezes me tighter, like he's afraid I'll fly away. And when I start to cry, he kisses the top of my crown.
"If it helps, I'm doing terribly without you." I laugh, the sound wrapped in a sob. "The Malditas are furious. I spend every night in that filthy shop doing oil changes. And I constantly smell like a gas station."
The realization hits me like a cold shower as I try to pull away.
"You smell perfect." His hand moves to cup the back of my neck and pull me in. "You are perfect."
I dip my face to hide it. “Even covered in grease with a bandana on?"
"Come on. Even when you were wearing a balaclava, I knew you were beautiful."
I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands framing his face. The teardrop tattoo is fresh, the skin around it still slightly pink. "What's this all about?"
He looks boyish, almost embarrassed. "I got it for you, back at the shop we own in Austin. It tingles and burns constantly, and it will for an eternity, but it's a reminder of your sacrifice and what you did for me."
"Is it bad that I like that?"
He grins. "No, I'd say it's pretty on brand."
I stroke his neck, feeling his slow pulse pushing against his skin, and close my eyes to hear mine. Our two hearts beat together in perfect sync. A rhythmic dance of a maker and a sire.
"La Madre says that dog Lazaro planned all this.” I say. “Him poisoning you, making you sick so I'd give you my blood."
"Then she's a wise woman," he says. "Lazaro is a cold son of a bitch who wants power above all. He's a collector of it. Rare artifacts, strategic sires, anyone he can use to get more influence. It doesn't matter the vessel. He just wants it all."
I shake my head. "And I was stupid enough to walk into his trap."
He places his finger under my chin and tilts my head so I meet his eyes. "None of this is your fault, mi amor. You didn't know. I didn't know. We were both pawns in this."
"Did he hurt you?" I ask, and the thought of those animals laying their hands on him makes my cheeks flush with ire.
"His rabid twins did," he grits. "I had to lie back and take it whilst they tortured me… but every silver burn, every deep cut, I'd do it again if it meant keeping you safe."
I kiss him again, and sigh against his lips.
"He won't be able to control you like the others because of my blood," I say.
"That must kill him inside. Usually, the older the vampire the less influential the sire is and because you're still a baby," I pinch his cheek, "you should technically be at your most vulnerable to his influence—"
"The only one influencing me is you, mi cielo," he says against my lips. And for a moment I just stay there. Locked in a kiss I don't want to break away from.
Angel breaks the spell first by pulling back and brushing a strand of hair from my face. His beautiful face a picture of concern. "What about you? How did La Madre react?"
"She clipped my wings," I mutter. "La Madre stopped me from being able to fly."
His jaw tightens, but his eyes are soft. "I'm so sorry. I would give anything to see you fly again."
"Yeah, well." I try to shrug it off, but the loss still aches like a phantom limb. "I've got other ways to get around now. The shop's truck isn't exactly glamorous, but—"
"About that." He pulls back slightly, and there's something in his expression—nervous energy mixed with barely contained excitement. "I brought you something."
My brow furrows. "What?"
He takes my hand and leads me around to the back of the pickup. The tailgate is down, and even in the low glow of the hazard lights, I can see the tarp covering something large in the bed.
"Angel, what did you—"
He yanks the tarp off in one swift motion.
Black Betty.
My beloved motorcycle sits there, the body gleaming even in the darkness, her black curves and polished chrome still flawless. Every scratch I remember, every modification I made with my own hands—she's exactly as I left her.
"How—" The word comes out strangled. "How did you get her?"
"I went back," he says simply. "To the bunker to look for signs of you, and I found this, and I just knew she was yours. I thought you might want her back." He runs his hand along the seat. "I hope everything is in order? I was careful loading her up. I didn't want to scratch anything."
I can't speak. Can't move. I just stare at Black Betty like she might disappear if I blink.
"I know she's not wings," Angel says quietly, stepping closer. "But maybe she's the next best thing?"
I turn to him, and this time I don't try to stop the tears. "You did this for me."
"Of course I did." He cups my face in his hands. "Sophia, I'd go anywhere for you. Do anything for you. Take an eternity of beatings for you. His thumb brushes across my cheek. "You gave up everything so I could live. The least I could do was bring back a piece of what you lost."
I jump into his arms, and he catches me, pushing me back against the side of the truck.
His hands find the snaps of my coveralls and tear them open with such force the metal fasteners pop free.
He kisses my neck, his mouth hot against my skin, and I arch into him, my fingers threading through his pomaded hair and ruining it completely.
Out here in the darkness, with nothing but the desert wind and the distant hum of power lines, I don't care who might drive past. Don't care if some cartel runner or desperate traveler catches us in their headlights.
All that matters is his hands on my waist, his teeth grazing my throat, the way my body remembers his even after six weeks apart.
But then reality crashes back in.
"Wait." I press my palm against his chest, breathless. "Not here. If anyone sees—if word gets back to La Madre—"
He pulls back, his pupils dilated, chest heaving. "Right. Of course." He runs a hand over his ruined hair, looking as wrecked as I feel.
I straighten my coveralls with shaking hands, trying to refasten the broken snaps. "She's expressly forbidden me from seeing you. She made it very clear. Contact with you means she'll take my wings for good."
Angel's jaw tightens, but he nods slowly. Then something shifts in his expression—that same determined look from earlier. "Then let me give you something she can't refuse."
"What do you mean?"
"Information. Lazaro is threatened by the Malditas' power," he says, voice low and urgent.
"He's already talking about it. Planning.
He wants to eliminate anyone or anything that could stand against him.
" His eyes lock on mine. "Tell La Madre I'll be her eyes and ears at the Hollow. They’ll kill me if they found out, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s worth risking everything to keep you safe. "
My breath catches. "You can't be serious—"
"Tell her I'll only deliver the information to you.
In person. Once a week." He gestures to the empty highway around us.
"We'll meet here. Same spot, same night.
" His hand finds mine, squeezes. "It's not perfect, Sophia.
But it's all I can give you right now. Until I find a way for us to be together forever. "
I look at him—this man who died and came back, who tracked me down because he couldn't live without me, who's offering to betray the most dangerous vampire in Texas just so he can see me once a week on a deserted highway.
"She might say no," I warn him. "She might tell me to kill you for even suggesting it."
"Then I'll die knowing I tried." He lifts my grease-stained hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "But I don't think she will. If what you've said about La Madre is true, she'll do anything to protect you and your sisters."
He's right. She's a survivor above all else. And information from inside Lazaro's operation? That's worth more than her anger toward me.
"Next Saturday," I say. "Midnight. Right here."
"Midnight," he confirms. "I'll be waiting."
We stand there for a moment, neither of us wanting to be the first to leave. Finally, Angel reaches into the truck bed and pulls out a helmet. Shiny, black, and brand new with gold wings painted on the side.
"I almost forgot. I got you this in case you want to take her for a ride tonight," he says, handing it to me.
I turn the helmet over in my hands, tracing the wings with my thumb. They're not real, just paint, but the protective gesture, the thoughtfulness of it makes me melt.
"Thank you," I whisper. "It's beautiful."
"Wear it," he warns.
"I'm a vampire! I don't need it."
He gives me a stern look. "I don't care. You're too precious to me."
He kisses me one more time, soft and lingering, like he's savoring every second. Then he climbs into his truck, closes the hood with a solid thunk, and starts the engine.
"Seven days," he says through the open window. "I'll count every one."
I watch his taillights disappear down the highway, swallowed by the desert darkness. Then I turn to Black Betty, running my hand along her fuel tank.
The Malditas aren't the only thing I've lost. But maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to find my way back to something worth having.
I swing my leg over the bike, settle into the familiar seat, and pull on my helmet. The engine roars to life beneath me—that beautiful, thundering sound I thought I'd never hear again.
And as I tear down the empty highway with the wind screaming past and the stars wheeling overhead, I almost feel like I can fly.