Aamon enters, but freezes, watching me as I let the hair fall into place.
“What?” I ask, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “Quinn took my clothes on my first day here and hasn’t been courteous enough to return them.” I flare my hands out at my sides, looking down at the makeshift outfit I pieced together. “I didn’t take the Blood Order for having much of a dress code.”
“It’s not—” He bristles again, gritting his teeth as I look back to him, brushing my hair over my shoulder and setting my hands on my hips. “We don’t. You look fine. It’s just cold outside, you may beuncomfortable.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “I’ll be fine,” I reassure him in a mocking voice. “When you’re a prisoner locked in a vampire’s bedroom, the last thing you’re worried about is getting chilly.”
“You’re not a prisoner—” Aamon exhales, but I roll my eyes, walking past the door and into the hall behind him, waving him off.
“Besides, I don’t get cold easily.” I leave him by the bedroom door, not waiting for him to follow or answer as I make my way down the hall. To my surprise, I feel him behind me in an instant. That fucking vampire speed. I huff out a breath of irritation, angry that he can’t even let me storm off properly.
“Even still,” he whispers, and I jump at the feel of his breath on my ear, the sudden presence of leather on me as he slides out of his cut and wraps it around my shoulders. “Take this. Just in case.”
The night is dark, the only light coming from the nearly full moon high above us as we emerge into the parking lot. Aamon leads me from the building I’ve now come to know as the clubhouse. The other boys are waiting for us beside the garage—Quinn, Zeke, and Sterling. My eyes catch on the latter, a small smile growing on my lips.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t smile back. Instead, he averts his gaze as he turns to his bike and mounts. I drift towards him, but Aamon’s hand wraps around my upper arm, steering me in the opposite direction.
“Uh uh, Angel. You’re riding with me tonight.”
I turn to look up at him, fear mixed with intrigue building in my core. It’s then that I notice there’s more vampires, more members of the Blood Order beyond the four I know, all mounting their own bikes andwaiting for Aamon’s lead.
He gestures toward his bike, grabbing a helmet off the seat and offering it to me. I eye it, an eyebrow cocked. “You don’t wear one,” I argue, refusing to take it.
He lets out a frustrated exhale through his nostrils, stepping up to me and placing the helmet on my head despite my protest. “Why must you fight me on everything?” he asks as he leans down to adjust the chin strap. “It takes a lot more to bring me down than it does your kind. And we wouldn’t want those pretty little brains to splatter the pavement, would we?” He tightens the strap with one final tug, punctuating his statement with a wink as I gape up at him, before turning to his bike and swinging a leg over.
I watch him for a moment, weighing my options. I could defy him, could turn and walk over to Sterling and jump on his bike without a second thought. But I doubt Aamon would let that go and I don’t think I have the energy for more fighting tonight. I could run away altogether, now that I’m back outside the walls of their clubhouse. But the thought has dread stirring in my stomach and I move closer to Aamon practically on instinct.
I grunt in frustration, giving in at last, and I don’t miss the smirk that has settled over Aamon’s features as he leans forward to make room for me. “Hold on tight, Angel. I won’t be going easy on you.”
And before I can come up with some sort of smart ass retort, he’s peeling out of the parking lot, followed by the procession of the Blood Order.
We don’t stop until we're circling the outer border of Requiesse. So close to the WildLands that I worry something may jump out of those haunted trees at any given moment. I try to call out over the roar of his motor to ask where we're going. But I’m only answered with a rev of his engine as he speeds up.
I shriek, startled by the sudden increase in speed and cling to his form as if my life depends on it. I can’t hear anything, but I feel the rumble in his chest from where my hands cling to him—from where my head is pressed tightly to his back. As if he’s chuckling at my response.
“Asshole,” I shout as loud as I can manage, without lifting my head from where I’m tucked tightly against him. I don’t look up again until we're slowing to a stop. Once I’m sure he’s not trying to trick me into letting go, just to take off and scare me again, I release my grip and slide off the bike.
“Enjoy the ride?” Quinn quips from where he’s just parked beside us.
“Not even a little bit,” I bite through a clenched jaw, ripping the helmet off my head and chucking it at Aamon.
“You’ll get used to it,” Quinn responds with a hint of amusement.
“No.” I flash a pointed look his way. “I really won’t.”
The rest of the Blood Order that has joined us dismounts from their bikes and ventures towards a hill several paces away. I take the moment to look around, to get my bearings of where we are. None of this looks familiar to me, but seeing as how I don’t know much besides the High Quarter and some of the MidLands, that’s not surprising.
To my right is the thick foliage of the WildLands. I find no comfort in how close we are to it, and I don’t linger as the rest of the members venture to the left. There’s trees here too, but not nearly as thick as the WildLands. Up ahead is the shadowy hill, which seems to be the focal point of the group’s attention.
“Where are we?” I ask, keeping my voice low as Aamon trails behind the rest of the group.
“The outskirts of the ungoverned district. We have a job tonight, and I thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity to show you the truth of what the High Quarter does to its citizens. To show you the truth of who you’re working for.”
“I already told you—” I start to fight back, but Aamon raises a hand, gesturing for me to lower my voice.
“I know you’re no spy,” he relents. “But you have to understand why I’m so hesitant to trust you. Why having you here is such a delicate situation to navigate as their leader. I thought perhaps if you saw the ugly truth of it, maybe you’d begin to see things from my side.”
“The ugly truth of what?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
