Simone waited, but when his lips remained compressed together, she realized he still would not reveal his reasons to her.Stubborn, annoying vampire.
“Will those hunters all become Savages?” she asked.
“If Joseph has his way,” Killean replied.
Killean swung the truck into the parking lot of a small motel with an open vacancy sign. He pulled into a parking spot before the white building with pale blue shutters and put the truck in park.
“And are you a Savage?” Simone inquired.
Killean studied the motel before replying, “I’m more one of them than I’m not.”
He admitted it to her, and for the first time, he admitted it to himself.
Simone was uncertain how to react to this admission. Maybe, as a normal vampire, he wasn’t her mortal enemy, like she’d been raised to believe vampires were. But as a Savage, he was certainly a monster she was supposed to hate.
So why didn’t she hate him? And why did she believe he was far more than the brutal exterior and callous indifference he portrayed?
She was probably a fool for believing he wasn’t as cruel as he sometimes acted, but she couldn’t shake the instinctual feeling she was right.
“No matter what I am, I’ll get you back to your people,” Killean assured her.
She almost asked why, but she’d only find herself smacking into another wall of stony silence from him.
“Do you have any special abilities?” he asked, wondering if perhaps she possessed something that could help them out of this mess.
“Abilities?”
“Yes, abilities. The abilities Kadence and Nathan possessed as hunters were amplified when they became vampires.”
“Oh, ah… I didn’t know they had any kind of abilities.”
“Now you do, so what about you? Do you have any special talents?”
“Not unless you include sewing faster than everyone in my class.” Her smile slid away when he didn’t look at all amused by her poor attempt at humor. “No,” she said more seriously. “I didn’t have any abilities as a hunter, and I don’t now.”
So, like humans and vampires, only a select few hunters had extrasensory abilities, Killean realized.
“What can Nathan and Kadence do?” Simone asked.
“Kadence can see pathways and knows things. Time slows for Nathan in a way that makes it easier for him to fight. Their powers can also combine to work together.”
“Amazing,” she breathed. “Being twins has always made them rare amongst our kind, and this makes them even more special.”
And it did nothing to help them. “We need a room,” Killean said.
Before Simone could reply, he opened the door and climbed out. He walked in front of the truck and around to open her door. Clasping her elbow, he helped her from the vehicle and drew her close against his side.
Killean studied the woods behind the building and the road they’d left as he scented the air. He didn’t detect any nearby threat, but he wasn’t willing to leave her alone out here. “Come on,” he said and drew her toward the office.
* * *
Simone perchedon the edge of the king-sized bed while Killean shoved a chair under the doorknob. The blockade wouldn’t do much against a vampire trying to break in, but at least it was something. Each of his awkward movements was entirely unlike the fluid grace vampires and hunters possessed; there was something almost pained about him, but he would never reveal what it was to her.
Simone tore her attention away from him and back to the small, austere room. Scratches marred the surface of the rickety wood bureau across from her. A small, box television sat on top of the bureau, but it remained off. She’d watched very little TV in her life and had no interest in it now.
The wood panel walls held two pictures of mountains with streams, but one had a bear and the other a family of deer. The brown, industrial carpet didn’t have any tears in it, and she didn’t see a single speck of dust anywhere, but the color scheme made the room feel dreary.
This was the only bed in the room and had been the only room available. She’d stood by Killean’s side and watched as he mesmerized the clerk into giving him the keys, forgetting what they looked like, and believing they paid enough to stay here for two days.
