Luther drove, hands tight around the steering wheel and eyes flicking to the mirrors over and over as he checked that weweren’t being followed. Though I was tired and probably should sleep, my jaw and wrists ached too much for me to find any peace. So I asked him why it was so rare that he’d found his soulmate, and why it seemed that Vale did not believe he’d find his.
“I don’t know,” Luther answered thoughtfully. He was still looking over his shoulder but beginning to relax as the highway opened up to us and we began to put the city behind us. “Just that soulmates have been this myth that’s part of the very fabric of immortal culture. We all hear of it, of the marks, the completeness of such a bond, and the flash of recognition. But until Rosy and Chardum last year, I’d never heard of an actual mated pair. Shifters bond, of course, but it’s a magic ritual of choice, not fate.”
He swept a hand toward the locked box secured on the seat behind me. “Perhaps that book has answers. The name Galamut is probably as old a whisper as soulmate bonds are.” I wanted to reach for the book immediately, but Luther told me I needed a few hours of sleep first. Since that wasn’t a no for the rest of the journey, I obliged, cuddling up with Belfry at my throat on the seat and letting my eyes slide closed. I didn’t think it would work, but it was several hours and hundreds of miles later when I woke up from the pain.
Luther gently reminded me when to take my painkillers, and then he let me distract myself with more questions. I asked him everything, about his kind, about vampire covens, about bonds, both kind: shifter or soulmate, and about his past. He answered all of it patiently and openly, and I realized how free I felt. There were no doors left closed and no secrets hanging between us.
Even when Luther opened up about why he’d found it hard to explain what he was to me, I felt only warmth and affection. Ilse, the woman he explained had sold him out and betrayed him, had lived in Germany with him several centuries ago. She was no threat to our future, and she was not his soulmate. I was. Me—the nerdy, book-obsessed librarian who couldn’t decide whether she had a temper or was painfully shy.
Belfry, wedged into the crook of my neck, had been insufferably smug ever since he’d woken from his nap with me.I breathed fire,he announced for the fifth time.Told you I could.He cackled with pleasure and buffed his gold chain necklace with a claw. Luther had helped him smooth out his fur and put on a new red silk vest—pinstriped this time—before we’d left the hotel hours ago. Except for the bandage on his ear, he looked like his usual self.
I studied the bandage now, certain I’d be subjected to the story of how he’d outflown a huge hawk again if I didn’t change the direction of the conversation. “The scar’s going to make you look very dashing,” I said, though I knew I wasn’t feeling so pleased about the burns leaving a mark on my wrists.
He preened instantly, proving I’d said the right thing.I know! Do you think the goats will like it? Avis is just going to poke fun, but he can go choke on a hairball.Avis was the cat familiar, I’d learned, of the local mechanic. Belfry had a rivalry with the creature that I was fairly certain was all in Belfry’s head.
Luther glanced at us, fondness softening his eyes. “I love you both,” he said quietly. “So much. I could not imagine my life without either of you.” My answering smile was so huge it made my cheeks ache, my chest filling with the same love I felt for thetwo of them, almost too big to contain it all. He hesitated, then added, “I am sorry I did not explain the mate bond properly.”
I waved it away with a hand, then hid a wince and quickly returned my arm to my lap. “It all worked out,” I told him firmly. It had been more confusing than anything, and I couldn’t regret it for a single moment now.
Belfry frowned, his furry face wrinkling, his ears going back.Why was that an issue? It wouldn’t have formed if she hadn’t wanted it.The car went quiet as we let those words sink in. I stared out at the forest sliding past, that sentence echoing in my head. Wouldn’t have formed if she hadn’t wanted it. Huh, that was interesting… and I was ready to believe it in an instant. I’d been so hurt and alone when I first came to Hillcrest Hollow, and even when it seemed we were at odds, Luther had made me feel like I was me again from the moment we met.
That night, we slept in a motel alongside the highway, the book tucked beneath the bed, and Belfry haunting the night, chasing bugs. It was a terrible bed, but it was made better simply because Luther was there to hold me. In the morning, after my painkillers had started working, he placed the lock box in my lap and told me I could start reading.
That’s how I spent the next leg of the drive, with my protective gloves on so I wouldn’t damage the ancient vellum, and my nose in the manuscript’s pages. Reading Latin was a bit of a headache, but the text was so interesting I hardly noticed. We were beginning to approach Hillcrest Hollow late in the day, and I’d made good progress. Reading the book also kept me distracted from my aching wrists.
The road had narrowed, trees crowding close, and reststops and other signs of civilization had become rarer. Long haulers passed occasionally, but otherwise, it was empty. The light was fading, the day slipping toward evening. Belfry was pointing out all the fireflies we passed from where he perched on the front dash, and Luther kept promising even better treats when we got home.
That was when something slammed into us from the side. I never saw it coming. Luther didn’t have time to react, and Belfry shrieked in terror. Metal screamed as it tore; the world spun, and for a brief moment, gravity vanished. The car left the road and rolled.
Chapter 30
Jade
I came to, hanging upside down, my seatbelt digging into my ribs, the world tilted and wrong. The smell of hot oil and scorched rubber filled my nose, sharp enough to cut through the ringing in my ears. I blinked, my vision swimming, and tightened my arms instinctively. The book was still clutched to my chest. Thank God.
My preservation gloves were smeared with dirt and something dark—oil, I hoped—as I fumbled for the buckle. When I hit it, gravity took over. I dropped hard onto the ceiling, no, the road, and sucked in a breath that tasted like pain and panic. “What the hell,” I croaked, my voice thin and unfamiliar.
The armored car lay on its roof, massive and absurd against the narrow forest road. It was heavy as fuck. Armored cars didn’t flip. Physics had opinions about that sort of thing, and physics was usually very rude about being contradicted. In this case, it had involved a lot of twisted metal and power, and I was pretty sure my nose was bleeding, just a little.
I crawled out through the shattered side door, gravel biting into my palms through the thin cotton of my once-white gloves, the book hugged tight like a life preserver. The sky was deepening toward indigo, the last smear of sunset bleeding out behind the trees. The evening pressed in fast, the shadows stretching too long and far too eager.
I stood, or tried to, but my legs wobbled like overcooked noodles. That was when I saw the snowplow. It sat jackknifed across the road, its blade bent and the engine still ticking. A man climbed down from the cab, swearing loudly.
He was a threat that made me back up a few steps, but my stomach dropped when more figures stepped out from between the trees. At least half a dozen, and they were moving with purpose. This was an ambush, a successful one, so far. “Oh no,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
Something brushed past my shoulder, a soft flutter of wings. Hide. Belfry’s voice slid straight into my head, urgent and sharp. Oh, thank God, he’d gotten out of that crash all right. He was so tiny; it seemed impossible he’d survived without a scratch. I could see him fluttering around my head by virtue of the white spot on his bandaged ear.
He’d tried to warn me of his presence with that wing brush, but I startled a little anyway. It was a bit too much like a hand reaching for me from behind. “Luther?” I hissed under my breath, spinning toward the overturned car. “Where is Luther?”
He can take care of himself,Belfry told me.Now hide before they see you!He circled over the overturned car, a flash of black and red, a glimmer of gold, and then came right at me as if he were going to push me bodily toward the trees. At the last moment, he pulled up, because even though he was a large brown bat, he was still tiny.
“That is not an answer,” I snapped, fear clawing up my throat, thick and choking. “Why isn’t he out here?” Luther was so strong, so impervious to anything. Why wasn’t he crawling out ofthe car with me? I hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch, except for a bit of a bloody nose.
He’s still healing. Your charm kept you safe, but it didn’t protect him. Now go!Belfry explained. Then he arrowed for the trees as if showing me the way. I ran, even though it felt like shit to abandon Luther to his fate. He’d heal? Would he really?
Ducking behind a tree and a few dense shrubs, I glanced back to see two men hauling Luther out of the wreck. He hung limp between them, head lolling, dark hair matted with blood that gleamed too black in the fading light. Rage burned through the shock, hot and bright. They touched him! They hurt him! I wanted to charge back out there and start kicking them.
Jade, now.Belfry darted in front of my face, his tiny silk vest immaculate despite everything, gold chain flashing.You must hide! Go deeper into the trees. Hurry.He was right; those two guys holding Luther were far bigger than David, and they weren’t alone, more were circling the armored car, looking for something, for me.
