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“Let go of me,” I wheezed. My mouth tasted odd, like rusty nails. I smacked my dry lips and stared angry holes through Gabriel.
“Oh, don’t make a fuss,” Sophie said lightly. “I’m going to let you go now. You did well.”
I wish I could have pulled enough words together to respond with appropriate scorn, but I think I was better off silent and nauseated. Gabriel tried to rub a hand across my shoulders, but I growled at him. If the humans at the next table noticed, they didn’t look up from their waffles.
Sophie said, “She’s telling the truth, or at least what she believes is the truth. She’s so young. Sometimes it’s hard for them to tell the difference.”
Crown smiled at me, more nasty mockery than friendly gesture. That pissed me off. And I had just gained enough control over my limbs to jerk my hand away from Sophie.
“This is not how people behave in a Cracker Barrel!” I hissed. I snarled at my sire, who had turned the gentle pressure on my foot into an all-out toe stomping.
“We did tell you that the process can be unpleasant,” Sophie said with a small smile of apology. “It could have been much more painful.”
“We have already spoken to Andrea Byrne,” Ophelia said in a tone perfect for pronouncing judgment. “She is one of the few humans whose word could sway our opinion. We are willing to believe your account for now, but you should be aware that we will continue to investigate Walter’s death. If the attack was justified or we find that you are innocent, you will have our deepest apologies. However, if we learn that you have lied to this council, you will be severely punished. Andrea will be punished along with you.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” I croaked, “if you were going to use Ms. Polygraph over there, why did you ask me to tell my side of things before?”
Ophelia offered the barest of shrugs. “To see if you would tell us the truth without assistance—if your version of events is, in fact, the truth. Also, we enjoy scaling the punishment to fit the depth of your deception.”
“If I may be so bold as to question the council further, what could ‘punishment’ mean?” I asked.
If I didn’t know that my toe bones would regenerate, I would have been very upset about the crushing pressure Gabriel was applying to my foot.
Ophelia smirked. “You could have a choice of being locked in a coffin full of bees or having a red -hot silver poker shoved up your—”
“Ophelia.” With an apologetic glance my way, Mr. Marchand interrupted her. “That’s enough.”
“She’s only joking,” Sophia assured me. “The silver poker is actually at room temperature. Ancient vampires called it the Trial.”
I asked, “Why?”
“Because it sounds incredibly scary.” Sophie nodded.
I was dismissed before my pancakes were served, which was better in the long run. I probably would have found uneaten pancakes singularly depressing. Gabriel escorted me to the car before I could say anything else incriminating. And by escorting, I mean he dragged me across the parking lot like a caveman and ushered me none too gently into the front seat.
“What the hell was that?” I yelled. Having fully recovered the use of my arms and legs, I seized the opportunity to swing at him as he slid behind the wheel. “Did you know they were going to do that to me? And a coffin full of bees? What the hell?”
“Calm down, just calm down,” he said, catching my wrists. I thought he meant to stop the hitting, but he was examining my reddened skin, poring over the marks left by Sophie’s truth-seeking expedition into my brain. I remained quiet long enough to watch them evaporate away. I had a feeling it would sting for a while longer.
“What is wrong with you people?” I demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me they were going to go digging around in my brain?
You know, I was raised to believe the contents of someone’s brain are that person’s own business! And have you noticed how often I yell at you?”
“Jane, I know you were frightened—”
“I was terrified, you ass!”
He was across the front seat with my face between his palms before I knew what hit me. Despite being extremely pissed, I’m not going to say I didn’t like kissing him. Or that I didn’t kiss back. Because, damn. I mean, damn, he was some kisser. If our first kiss was sparklers and fireworks, this was a full -scale nuclear detonation. My whole body was involved—face, lips, hands, thighs, legs. I don’t think he was actually touching all of those parts. I just know they were involved.
The sweep of his tongue across my lip was subtle at first, then increasingly demanding, until I couldn ’t tell where his mouth started and mine ended. He pulled me onto his lap, anchoring my ankles on either side of his thighs with his hands, stroking exposed skin with his thumbs. I tugged at his hair, pulling his head back so I could kiss that little thumb -shaped depression in the middle of his chin. Gabriel grunted, protesting my mouth leaving his. He brought me back to his lips, one hand cradling my head as the other kept my hips pinned to his.
A minivan pulled into the spot next to ours. I could hear the gasps and then giggles of the three teens who were piling out with their parents.
One of the kids yelled, “Jeez, get a room!”
I broke away from Gabriel, moving across the seat, ignoring the snickers of the kids as they walked away. I stared at him for what I’m sure was an alarming amount of time. I hadn’t had a kiss like that in, well, ever. I’d finally found something simple and natural about my relationship with Gabriel: making out with him.
Yay for me.
