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Worse... I worried I'd pieced together why her sister had tried to turn herself into a vamp in the first place. I'd seen how protective Maisey was of Sylvie. The puzzle wasn't complicated, but when I thought about Maisey trying to turn Sylvie into one of them, it made rage boil up in me so strong that I could feel my wolf threatening to claim me.
Fuck. Whatever happened, I needed to make sure it didn't come to that.
20
Sylvie
Riggs’ plan to escape with a budding vampire in tow was a simple one.
He thought if he draped Maisey in clothes he’d worn the previous day, his smell would help mask her scent. On top of that, he implied His Holy Alphaness would be powerful enough to keep the howlers from descending into a bloodthirsty rage.
So, yeah. We had smelly jackets and his own inflated ego protecting us. What more could two girls ask for?
We left our room after he got the call from Felix. They had the truck outside with Fang already loaded and waiting. I couldn’t decide if it was a vote of confidence that the other three weren’t inside to help if things went south, or if it was the reverse.
Riggs had Maisey over one of his shoulders. I was sure he could've carried her easily even before, but she'd deteriorated so much that she looked like a limp doll on his shoulder and nothing like a person, let alone my sister. The sight made my heart ache, but I put it from my mind.
"You’re sure this will work?" I asked. I'd had plenty of sleepless hours now picturing a throng of mindless beasts at the bottom of the stairs looking up toward our room, noses twitching.
"They won't fuck with me," he said.
I hoped that was true but didn't completely doubt it. Riggs had a presence—like an aura of potential violence. I imagined it was enough to keep all but the most determined from trying to cross him. At least I hoped as much.
When we got to the top of the stairs, I still went stock still at the sight of them. Countless pairs of eyes gazed up at us. But they weren't still like I'd imagined in my nightmares. The men and women at the bottom of the stairs were churning like moving water. They moved like a single, terrifying organism—like a wave trying to crash over the dunes at the beach.
"Jesus," I whispered.
Riggs put his hand around my waist, pulling me against his side.
Oh. My throat went dry. I knew he was just trying to protect me, but my stupid body started ringing wedding bells and picturing white picket fences the moment a guy's arm was around me.
Stop it, I thought. But of course, it didn't work. The next vision was a hairy little baby howling in a crib.
Would it be completely wrong to give a dog name to a werewolf baby? Come here, little Spot! Come on, Sparky! I grinned. I was officially an idiot. Even if I ignored the life-or-death situations that seemed to follow Riggs and the fact that he was a freaking werewolf, he was not husband material. There were a few obvious personality flaws, like a chronic lack of tact and manners. Besides, that was all ignoring the fact that any guy with two functioning brain cells would eventually realize they didn't want to be bogged down by my condition and run for greener pastures.
I was unpleasantly jerked from my thoughts when we got to the bottom of the stairs. The closest few howlers seemed to grudgingly part for us, moving to either side to create a dead-end pathway. Riggs walked confidently, but slowly forward. Just when it looked like we were about to walk right into the chest of wide-eyed howlers, they'd move to the side, making way.
Unfortunately, they were all heavily mouth breathing on us. It was like moving through a wind-tunnel of warm, germ-laced air. I could practically feel my immune system wilting in real time.
By the time we broke through the mob of werewolves, I felt like my teeth were about to crack from being clenched so hard. I realized I'd also wrapped my arms around Riggs' waist at some point. Embarrassed, I slid them off, but not before accidentally brushing the obvious hard bumps of abdominal muscles across his belly.
I shuddered a little, fear mingling with ill-advised arousal. I'd never touched a guys' abs before. Even if the abs I'd accidentally touched belonged to an asshole, it wasn't like the abs were at fault, right? I could still happily etch that physical memory into my mind for a later visit.
"You okay?" Riggs asked once we were outside. He bent down to examine me, still holding Maisey over his shoulder as if it was nothing.
"I'm fine."
"You look flushed," he said.
