Darien shifted on his feet. “It’s a habit I’m not proud of,” he admitted.
She pursed those perfect lips he had a hard time looking away from. He had imagined how that mouth would feel beneath his own—and what it would feel like on other parts of his body—more times than he could count. “Since when does the infamous Darien Cassel give a crap what anyone thinks?” It was true: he’d smoked in front of her before, but for some reason he’d always hesitated. Except for that one time in the dining room, when memories of his mother had become too heavy to bear.
The smile on his face faded as he looked her over, the answer he hadn’t yet given her shaking through him like a tremor. “I usually don’t.”But I care what you think.He almost said it aloud, but the realization stilled his tongue. She was right: since when did he give a shit what anyone thought?
As if reading the conflict on his face and knowing fully what it meant, she smiled. “I wanted to thank you. For everything that you did tonight, as well as these past few weeks. Maybe the information we gathered will help us figure out what happened to Sab.” Her delicate shoulders pulled up into a shrug. “She doesn’t seem to remember much. Maybe we can use what we discovered tonight to stop this from happening to anyone else.”
“Maybe.” This girl was always more concerned with the wellbeing of others than the wellbeing of herself. Even when he’d found her in that alley, she hadn’t screamed for help because she was afraid of causing harm to bystanders. He relit the cigarette, snapped the lighter shut, and took a drag. “But we’ve got another problem heading our way, if we want to keep your friend safe.”
“Do you really think the vampires will be more interested in Logan than Sabrine?”
Darien shrugged, diving into his magic to keep her from smelling the smoke rippling from his lips. “Depends. The law states that both the newly created werewolf or vampire and the person who changed them will be held accountable.” He paused at the fear that flitted across her face and caused the space between her eyebrows to scrunch up. “But again, that depends.”
“On what?”
He took another drag before throwing the cigarette to the porch and grinding it beneath his boot. “I think,” he began, crossing the distance between them, his footsteps echoing hollowly, “that you need to stop worrying about someone else for a minute.”
Loren stiffened at his advance, her heartbeat becoming irregular. She held her breath as he stopped before her and took the Avertera talisman into his fingers. The edges of it were worn down worse than several hours ago, the ivory skin of her neck dusted with gold.
“I also think,” he said, “that it’s time I find you a new one of these.”
“I already told you.” She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. She took the talisman from his grip, her fingers closing around his gloved hand. For that split second, he found himself wishing he’d taken the stupid things off. The number of times she’d touched him were much too few and far between. “I don’t want you shelling out any more money on me, Darien Cassel.”
“And I don’t want you dying,” Darien replied. “How’s that?”
Loren’s eyes brimmed with curiosity as she canted her head, the hair she wore wavy tonight tumbling to one shoulder. “Why do you care?” Her voice was so quiet, it was nearly carried away by the breeze. There was nothing rude in the question; it was simply innocent curiosity. “I meant what I said that day at Rook and Redding’s: what’s in it for you?”
Darien wasn’t sure he was ready to reveal to her the truth behind his motivations for helping her that day. And even if he wanted to, he lost his chance as the front door swung open with a low groan.
Logan stepped out, looking like he hadn’t slept for one second. That made two of them. He stopped as he beheld them on his porch but made no move to leave.
Sensing that he had another argument on his hands, Darien sighed through his nose and said to Loren, “Why don’t you go back inside? I need to talk to Logan.”
She left without a word, giving Logan a wide berth. Before she disappeared inside, she threw a glance over her shoulder, her ocean eyes briefly locking with Darien’s, as if it somehow helped her to look at him one last time, before she vanished inside.
And even though Darien had to argue with Logan for what seemed like the hundredth time over salvaging his peace with the vampires, he found that he didn’t get as angry as he had before. Maybe it was the cigarette.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t.
32
Loren swung her legs from side to side as she sat upon the couch in the sitting room at Hell’s Gate. Sabrine was beside her, flipping through channels on the television as they waited for Dallas to finish rummaging through the drawers of the media centre.
Shortly after Travis and Ivy had picked them up from Logan’s house, and Dallas had discovered that the drawers of the media centre were stuffed to the brim with videogames, she had insisted they play. Other than Travis and Ivy, who were currently in the basement, no other slayers were here; shortly after the peace officers Logan had called had finished questioning Sabrine, Darien had practically thrown the girls out the door.
He hadn’t needed to explain why. The law enforcement had decided to do exactly what Darien had expected and wash their hands of the situation. Which meant the vampires of the District of Drakon would soon be showing up in Werewolf Territory to enact whatever punishment they deemed necessary for Logan’s breaking of the pact. To protect not only Loren and Dallas, but also Sabrine, Darien had called for Travis and Ivyana to bring them to Hell’s Gate while they dealt with whatever was about to go down with the vampires.
Loren couldn’t stop staring at the front door. Couldn’t slow her racing heart. Only an hour had passed, so she knew it was unrealistic to expect Darien to walk in at any second.
But she still stared.
And she still waited.
“Earth to Loren,” Dallas sang from where she sat cross-legged on the rug, waving a game in hand. “He’s not going to be back anytime soon, so you’d might as well enjoy yourself.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She fiddled with the two still-damp braids that hung over her shoulders. “What game are we playing?”
But Sabrine had caught onto what Dallas had said and told Loren, “I never took you for someone who’d have the hots for a slayer.”
