The flames abandon my wings. They sag, and I fight the urge to cry from every feather. I might not be able to make logical sense of my feelings for Riven, but my wings are never wrong.
“I’ll only say this once,” I tell him, my voice raspy even as my fingers flex around his throat. “No one tells me how to feel or who to care for. I don’t know if I can forgive you either, but that decision is mine alone. Got it?”
He nods.
I drop my hand and keep walking.
“That’s the one,” I say, pointing at the minivan ahead. It’s old but clean, which hopefully means it’s in good working order.
There’s a for-sale sign taped to the windshield—$500 cash—and the house behind it appears vacant, in a temporary-but-not-forever way. The grooves in the driveway have fresh tire tracks, and the faded red flag on the mailbox is pointing straightup. A noisy heating unit kicks on, confirming my thoughts: someone lives here, they’re just not home.
Our hike took a long time, and the sun is setting. We don’t have any time to waste.
“It’s arranged so precisely,” Riven mutters. “Predatory, like a trap.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s advertising for you.” I memorize the house number and street sign. There doesn’t appear to be much in the way of job opportunities out here, but the owners parked the van facing a road few people will ever drive down. I appreciate their optimism.
When I get a chance, I’ll mail them some cash.
I sneak over to the van and try the handle. It’s unlocked, and—I shake my head. The keys are sitting in the cupholder attached to a braided rubber keychain with a gilded acorn dangling from the end.Jackpot.
Riven raises his eyebrows.
I shrug. “Some humans are too trusting.”
“Let’s get out of here before we run into one of their less naïve neighbors.”
I take my time adjusting the mirrors and getting buckled before fitting the key in the ignition. The van cranks on the first try, the engine turning over with a steady, rumbling purr that screams reliability over speed.
It’s no motorcycle, but it’ll do.
I leave the town the way we came in, not wanting to pass more homes and risk someone recognizing the van. The road is filled with potholes, and I drive slowly to avoid destroying the van’s suspension or chipping a tooth.
Once we hit real pavement, I’m able to breathe better. The relaxation makes me realize how tired I am. Without adrenaline or distraction pumping me up, the winding road is endless, andthe guardrails protecting us from certain death look flimsier by the second.
Last night’s sleepless night is catching up with me.
The paper map rustles, and I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache.
“There’s a bigger town about an hour away,” Riven says.
“Okay. Good.” I yawn and tilt the vent to blow cold air on my face. “I brought some cash. We can get something to eat and find somewhere to stay there.” I grabbed a few hundred bucks from my apartment before we went to stay at the compound. With no working door, I was shocked my emergency cash hadn’t already been stolen, but I wasn’t about to tempt fate twice.
“Tell me something,” I blurt.
Riven sighs. “Don’t you think I’ve said enough for one day?”
I wave my hand at him. “Nothing heavy. Tell me something about yourself. What’s your favorite color?”
“Red,” he says without hesitation.
If Ciprian had used a line like that on me, I would assume he was flirting or trying to provoke a reaction, but there isn’t a hint of teasing in Riven’s voice. If I comment on it, I run the risk of sounding as if I think the world revolves around me. Better not to take that chance.
“Mine’s green,” I say.
He hums. “Like the angel’s eyes?”
Right to the point.Gods, he cuts me to the quick without even trying. The steering wheel groans, and I ease my grip. “Not quite. I mean, Malach’s eyes are lovely, but they’re deep green. My favorite shade is lighter, with a hint of blue, like my mom’s eyes.”
