“That’s not eating.”
“I had coffee.”
“That’s not eating either.”
“It was a very emotional coffee.”
Her stomach growls again, betraying her with enthusiasm.
I turn for the door. “Vending machine outside.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“For food.”
“You just told me Landon could come after me.”
I pause with my hand on the chair wedged under the door. “You’ll lock this behind me. Chain stays on. Chair goes back. You don’t open for anyone but me.”
“How do I know it’s you?”
“I’ll ask who you bit tonight.”
Her lips twitch despite everything.
There she is.
“I could have bitten several people.”
“You’d remember me.”
The words come out rougher than I mean them to.
Her smile dies slow.
Heat moves between us. Quiet. Heavy. Dangerous.
I let myself have one second of it. One second to imagine crossing the room, wrapping her hair around my fist, taking that smart mouth until it goes soft and breathless under mine.
Then I open the door.
Cold air hits my face.
Good.
I need it.
“Lock it,” I order.
“Bossy,” she mutters again.
I step outside and wait until the chain slides into place and the chair scrapes back under the handle.
Only then do I move.
The vending machine sits beside the ice room at the end of the back walkway, not far from where I hid the bike. From here, I can see room twelve, the maintenance shed, the fence line, and the thin slice of road beyond the motel.
Not safe.
