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"I wish I could remember something from before I got here."
"Don't worry about it right now. It could be anything. Someone could have attacked you for all you know. Just keep quiet about the blood. If anything comes of it, I'll just claim it. I'm a night stalker. As long as the body is disposed of, no one can touch me."
Bile rises to my throat in that instant, and I dart outside to heave over the balcony. Kane runs up beside me—using human speed—as all the lake walkers and joggers glance up to see me in the freezing cold, wearing next-to-nothing, and hurling my guts up over a railing.
A warm jacket wraps around my body as Kane pulls my hair back. Before I collapse, I feel his arms around me, picking me up, cradling me to his chest. Seconds before my eyelids fall shut and unconsciousness takes over, I feel his lips press against my forehead as he sighs out wearily.
The car rolls to a stop, and the slight jarring of it going into the parked position wakes me from my accidental slumber. I look over to see my very concerned night stalker letting his gaze wash over me, his brow crinkled with tension.
"You okay? I know that's a stupid question right now, but I'm worried. I shouldn't have said anything, but I didn't want to keep it from you."
"No," I strain out with a tired voice. "Don't ever keep anything from me. I'm tired of people keeping stuff a secret because they're worried I can't handle it. Whatever I did, I'll make it right somehow, and deal with it if I can't."
"Just keep it quiet. Let it fall on me."
He's so serious right now. He's willing to take blame for something I could have done. I'd melt if I wasn't so distracted by my dread.
"Has Sierra called to say if she's found anything yet?" I ask, proud of how even my tone sounds despite my inner turmoil.
"We'll talk about it when we're alone," he whispers, tugging at my hand and pulling me onto his lap. "There're about five Were out here right now. They just arrived. I feel their presence burning strong."
"I didn't know night stalkers had that ability," I whisper back.
"Most don't, but I do," he says in a nearly muted tone. "Just with were-creatures and lycans. And it's stronger around red moon times."
"Obviously you can't sense witches," I add, keeping my voice as nearly inaudible as his.
He uses his head to motion for us to get out, and then he pulls me from the car with him in one smooth motion. His fingers thread with mine, and my scalp suddenly starts to tingle with anxiety. The prickling sensations only grow as we near the front door.
My eyes give Gage's car a quick glance, and Kane's hand tightens on mine when voices from inside the house reach us through the open window.
"You're damn lucky you made a deal with Zallus, Drackus. I don't fear you in the least," an unknown voice snarls out. "We're not leaving until the dredger has checked her memories. If you speak the truth, then she'll have nothing to fear."
"You're not touching her without me ripping your claws from their sockets," Drackus blares, making me cringe when a gory visual creeps into my mind.
"He's going to give your relationship to him away," Kane whispers just before barging in unannounced.
"A dredger won't hurt her, Drackus, and you know it. What is it about this girl that has your panties in such a fucking wad," the crude man spews, his aged accent both dark and deep.
Kane's hand tugs at mine as he leads me to the room that is hosting the dispute. Then we hear Gage at the end of the long hallway as he takes his turn in the feud.
"Reese, be reasonable. A dredger could put a mortal in a coma, should they fuck up and take a wrong turn inside her mind. Alyssa hasn't gained her immortality yet."
"He'll just comb through. He won't ignite anything, and he won't force his way through any blocks."
"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Drackus growls.
"Trust me? You have no choice, Drackus. Meeting here was a stupid idea Zallus should never have agreed to. I'll speak with the light council about this girl, and then I'll head to the night stalker's council next."
Kane doesn't wait any longer. He pushes through the doors to the library and joins the mafia-looking setup. Several guys in dark shade glasses, black leather coats, and black shirts stand with their arms crossed. It's so cliché it's almost laughable.
Gage's hair is tousled, as though he's been rubbing his hands through it over and over. He looks up to meet my eyes, his exhaustion weighing in on his face. He looks broken right now, and I know that's my fault.
Drackus is dressed in his black pants, black shirt, and long leather duster. His jaw is so tense that I'm worried it's about to snap off.
Then there's the alpha in the middle of the room. Just as one would expect, he looks the part—hair slightly longer, just grazing his neck, his eyes dark, hiding the autumn that would stir if his werewolf was provoked. His black button-up shirt has long sleeves that have been rolled up to his elbows.
With Kane's black tee tightly fitted to his body, he fits right in. It's as though midnight threw up in here and decorated all the men—or creatures, rather.
