Loren wasn’t sure why, but Darien looked her way again. She was pretty certain she was giving him what Dallas referred to aspuppy-dog eyes, though she wasn’t really meaning to.
As they looked at each other, Loren felt like they were caught in that same bubble they often got stuck in together, and suddenly it was just the two of them, the heat of Darien’s gaze realer than the feel of Sabrine’s hand grasping her own. Loren could’ve sworn the edge melted from Darien’s face.
After a minute that felt more like ten, Darien held up a black-gloved finger. “One night. After that, we’ll have to find other arrangements.”
Logan appeared behind him, hardly more than a silhouette in the kitchen light. Darien stepped aside to let him into the room as the werewolf said to him, “I’ve got an extra guest bedroom. It’s clean, unlike the rest of my house.”
Darien smirked. “No, thanks. I don’t sleep in wolves’ dens.” He settled into the sagging armchair in the corner and fiddled with the handle on the side of it until it reclined. A footrest sprang into place with a squeak. He rested his pistol atop his muscled thigh, clicked the safety free, and aimed it at Logan. “You’re not leaving this house either, my friend. You’re calling law enforcement at sunup.”
Logan’s mouth curled into a frown. “And what am I going to tell them?”
“You’re going to tell them you found Sabrine. You’re going to tell them you changed her into one of your own to save her life. They’ll likely come here to ask her a few questions, and when they’re finished, they’ll decide if they want to wash their hands of you and let the vampires decide your fate or deal with you themselves.”
Logan’s face had turned pale.
Darien gave him a humourless smile, his eyes cold as ice. “My guess is it’ll be the first one.”
Sabrine’s palm was slick with sweat. Loren gave her fingers another squeeze.
Picking up on the several rapid heartrates in the room, Darien said to Loren, “Don’t worry. They’ll be more interested in the set of teeth that changed your friend than your friend herself.”
When Loren swallowed, the sound carried through the room.
“You think this is a good idea?” Logan bit out.
“It’s your only option. Better to come clean than have someone else turn you in. Isn’t it?”
Logan’s nostrils flared, hands curling into fists at his sides. Regardless of the defensive stance he held, Loren could see the fear gleaming in his eyes. “I guess we’ll see.”
Darien settled into the cushions and crossed one ankle over the other. “Yeah,” he agreed with a smile that was nothing short of threatening. “We will.”
—
Darien didn’t get a wink of rest that night. But as a Darkslayer, he was used to running on little to no sleep. His kind could function through exhaustion better than humans or wolves; sometimes he could go a full three days without feeling tired.
Loren and her friends, on the other hand, slept like babies on the couch. Darien spent most of the night conversing with his Devils via group text, warning them of the troubles that could befall not only the werewolves but anyone else involved in this screw-up—and that included Sabrine. The poor girl had escaped one evil in time to possibly meet a new one.
As the clock neared five a.m., the messages from the Devils became few and far between, most of their questions having been answered, their arguments addressed. Darien caught himself looking at Loren, where she slept sandwiched between Sabrine and Dallas. If he was being frank, he caught himself looking at her more often than he cared to admit.
There was an innocence about her that he found himself admiring. Perhaps it was the reckless devotion she felt for her friends, or the way she abandoned herself to the magical world she’d been thrust into. Loving it with her whole heart, even when it didn’t always love her in return.
Or maybe it was the way her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed, completely at ease with her friends at either side of her. There was no trace of that guarded look she always gave him when they argued. But Loren wasn’t the only one who was guarded, nor was she the only one who was stubborn.Stubbornwas Darien’s middle name, so it had taken him a while to admit it, even to himself…
But Loren Calla was gorgeous in a way that made his knees weak. He considered that an accomplishment, for as someone who’d been cracking open the skulls of grown men and demons since he was fourteen, it took a lot for something to impact him. And it took even more for some-oneto impact him. He’d had a couple almost-relationships, one real one, and his fair share of one-night stands, but this one… This girl was different for a reason he hadn’t figured out yet. He couldn’t get enough of her, of the way she tipped her head back when she laughed, of the way she scrunched up her nose when he was teasing her, of the way her eyes lit up every time he walked into the room. As if his presence made a difference to her.
He began to feel like a creep for watching her, so he pushed out of the chair, shoving the footrest down until it clicked shut, and made his way to the porch to have a smoke. He held his breath as he walked through the kitchen, waving away the flies that were still gathered around the wolf heart. He stepped outside, breathing deeply as the screen door banged shut behind him. The warm autumn air vibrated with the song of cicadas.
He’d just lit a cigarette beneath a sky that was gradually lightening to gray when the door creaked open. Loren’s peaches-and-honeysuckle scent alerted him to her presence before he’d fully turned around.
“Hey,” she croaked, rubbing at her eyes that were puffy with sleep. The hem of her academy sweater was rumpled. “Did you manage to get any rest?”
Darien resisted the urge to take another drag on the cigarette. “Like I said to Logan: I don’t sleep in wolves’ dens.”
She crossed her arms against the balmy wind and gave him a saucy look. “You should get some rest once in a while. You’re not a machine.”
He braced his elbows on the porch rail at his back. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”
Her eyes found the cigarette between his index and middle finger. “Are you going to smoke that or just let it burn out?”
