I nod, but I can’t help feeling like it is.
My eyes fill up with tears as sadness—for my parents, for the girls who were needlessly killed as the demon hunted me—overwhelms my already exhausted body. I glance out the dark window to hide my face from Becks.
It falls silent in the cab again. Becks is no doubt as deep in his own thoughts as I am in my own.
There’s so much to discuss, but I just can’t.
I need a moment, or more like a solid month, to digest everything that’s happened and that I’ve learned in the last few hours.
My mind spins, pressure building into a dull headache. It’s not until I give myself permission to stop searching for an answer, for a reason, that everything finally goes blank, and the rocking of the car, and the dark trees zooming past, lull me into a blessed state of nothingness.
Nine
BECKS
I thought for sure Haven would wake while I was inside getting us a room at the beaten-down motel, but when I return to the SUV she’s still asleep in the passenger seat, curled tight, knees hugged to her chest, her head resting against the cool glass. Each breath drifts slowly and steadily, fogging the window with every exhale.
I should wake her. After what she’s been through, her body needs rest, real sleep in a bed, not folded awkwardly in a passenger seat, but I can’t help but use the moment to take her in, something I haven’t fully allowed myself to do yet. I told myself it was because there wasn’t time, that we were fighting for Haven’s life, which is true, but not all of it.
The full truth is that I needed time to brace myself.
I watched Haven from afar the day before and then defended her against the demon-possessed attacker, but now as I study Locklyn’s twin, it’s hard not to see my best friend and first love. Physically, they’re just so alike. Of course there are subtle differences: Haven’s hair is a shade redder than Locklyn’s, her jawline a touch less narrow and more defined. But they have the same delicate beauty.
I wish I could look into her eyes and know if they are the same honey amber color, or if she also has a dark starburst in her left eye.
As I stare at Haven, a renewed determination to protect her rises in my chest. This is Locklyn’s family. I’m going to do my best to make sure Locklyn is reunited with the sister she thought she’d lost before even knowing she had one.
I clear my throat, trying to wake Haven, but she just mumbles something in her sleep that sounds like “Five more minutes, Mom,” and snuggles into the seat a little deeper.
All right, this one’s a deep sleeper, I think as I reach across the driver’s seat and center console to wake her.
Laying my hand on her knee, I shake gently, but she still doesn’t wake. Saying her name doesn’t help either, so I climb back into the driver’s seat to try again.
I’m starting to wonder if I can just pick her up and bring her into our room without waking her, when suddenly her eyes pop open with a gasp.
Before I even have a chance to say anything, her hand is pointed at me and a stream of magenta and purple fire erupts from her palm, hitting me square in the chest with enough force to shove me from the SUV.
I land on my ass on the pavement, wondering what the hell just happened. When I glance down, there’s a charred hole in my shirt.
That sucks.
A car door slams and then Haven comes careening around the front, her gaze wild and filled with horror.
“Becks, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze drops to my chest, and she makes a scared noise when she sees the burnt hole in my shirt. “Oh no, oh no. How bad are you hurt?”
With a grunt, I shove off the ground, coming to my feet as I rub a hand over the spot I was hit. I’m a little sore from the impact, but as a dragon shifter I’m practically fireproof. It would take a whole lot more than a burst of flames to burn me.
I wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“Fine! Fine? You’re burned,” she says, pointing at my chest. “We need to get you to a hospital or something.”
Her head swings around as she quickly takes in our surroundings. It’s not much. It’s a small motel in the middle of nowhere, off a deserted country road.
She spots the small office where I just rented a room from the eighteen-year-old kid behind the counter. He’s probably already back to sleep in his chair, which is how I found him fifteen minutes ago.
“Maybe they have a first aid kit,” she says, and then starts for the office.
Before she can get far, I grab her, turning her toward me. I crouch down to catch her eye, but she’s frantic, jabbering about how she burned me and needs to get help.
