Page 43

“What the fuck,” I mutter, pushing out of bed. I pad over to the door, and sure enough, the safety lock is undone.

Fear squeezes at my heart, and without thinking, I drag the door open, letting in a tunneling rush of freezing air. I gasp at the shock of it, and at the shock of the parking lot, which is blanketed in at least a foot of pristine white snow. Our footsteps from earlier, when we went to the vending machine, have completely vanished.

The car’s still here, though, parked beneath the rickety old lamppost, wearing its coat of snow. There’s no wind on which I can hear voices, although the surrounding forest does crowd around the little motel, the trees bearing down on us, their branches reaching out to block out the stars.

“Penelope?”

I yelp when I hear Victor’s voice, ringing out like a bell in the soft, muffled night. He steps out from behind the stairwell, his hands shoved in his pockets, his coat flapping out behind him.

He looks, I think, like a predator.

“What are you doing out here?” Even with the residual heat of the room at my back, the cold worms into my bones. My tattered old nightgown doesn’t do much to block the chill, and the question comes out vibrating.

“What are you doing out here?” he walks toward me with long, loping steps, his gaze fixed on my face. “You’re freezing.”

Not a question. I’m sure he can see me shivering, even in the hazy, reflective light of the snow.

“You were gone.” I didn’t mean it to, but it comes out accusatory. “I wanted to make sure⁠—”

“That I hadn’t abandoned you?” He stops in front of me, his body blocking me from stepping outside. “I wouldn’t do that.”

It’s just dark enough out here that his eyes take on the faint, predator’s gleam that Hunters’ eyes do, and I hate that the sight of it makes me suck my breath in. I’ve seen that eye shine on my sister and my mom hundreds of times in my life. Thousands. I never think anything of it.

Until I see it on him.

“Go inside.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper, but there’s a commanding edge to it, and I don’t like how I like that, either. I don’t like how I’m shivering with cold, and I want the heat of his body to warm me up. Because God, I swear I can feel it, even with the inches between us.

“Make me,” I say.

Victor tilts his head, just enough that the eye shine disappears. Something about him feels dangerous right now.

“Let me see your hands,” I add, the words shaking. Partially from cold, yeah, but partially because I’m afraid I’ll see blood on them.

Because it feels like he’s done something. Snuffed out a life. I don’t know how I can tell, but I can. Growing up around Hunters will do that to a girl, I suppose.

But when Victor slides his hands out of his pockets, they’re clean. His long, pale fingers flex a little in the cold. “I’m not hiding anything,” he says roughly, and he brushes one of those hands over my hair.

I feel like he is, though. Hiding something.

“Go inside,” he whispers again, nudging me backward through the doorway. I don’t fight it, just step back into the heat. Victor kicks the door shut behind us, never taking his eyes off me.

“You’re cold,” he murmurs, leaning closer, smoothing his hand over my hair. “Can I warm you up?”

There’s definitely something going on. This energy radiating off him is a killer’s energy, hot and deadly, but I’m not afraid. I want to feel it inside my body, that heat.

“Yes,” I breathe.

And that’s all the permission he needs. Victor grabs me by the back of the head and drags me up to him for a kiss that’s as much teeth as it is tongue. I groan into the little biting nips of pain and grab at his collar to wrench his coat off. His hands fumble at my nightgown, shoving it up over my waist. We have to break the kiss for him to get it over my head, but only for a second—then I’m grabbing at him again, pressing my bare breasts up against the cool fabric of his sweater. He yanks down my panties, his nail scraping against my skin. I shove his sweater up and slide my hands along his bare chest, feeling the strength there.

“I want to see you,” I breathe, shoving his sweater up around his shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything, although he does peel his sweater away, revealing an expanse of tanned skin and faint muscles and a few curls of dark chest hair, which I kiss as I fumble with his pants, shoving them down around his hips.

“Let me,” he mutters into the top of my head, stepping away from me to jerk down his pants, his cock springing free. God, he’s hard, the skin around his cock tight and straining, and the rest of him makes my belly knot up. For all the wild, frantic fucking we’ve done, it’s my first time seeing him naked, and he looks every part the mountain man hiding up in the woods: strong, thick, powerful.

I drop down to my knees almost without thinking, wanting to swallow him down again, but Victor grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me back up to standing so he can press a deep, devouring kiss against my mouth. His cock presses into my belly, a tantalizing hardness.

“Not like that,” he growls into my mouth.