She looked into the elvish captain’s dark gaze and realized she could escape. Right at that moment. She could say yes, tell them everything — that she’d been a blood bride, that she didn’twant to be, that all she needed was a chance to live on her own. It was a risk, but was it any bigger than trusting Atticus?
If her heart beat any faster, she thought it’d pop. Just burst like a bloody balloon in her chest.
“If you’re in danger, even if you just don’t want to be near the man in the RV, I can walk you inside the station over there and you’ll never see him again,” the captain murmured. “I’ll protect you. Make sure you get some help.”
You’ll never see him again.
The elation crashed, leaving her shaken and a little queasy. She glanced at Atticus again. She didn’t think he could hear them, but he seemed to sense something was off anyway. He’d leaned over. His expression was stark, the tendons of his neck pulled taut.
I’d never see him again.
That thing in her screamed so long and loud, it blocked out everything else.
“I’m okay,” she heard herself say, from some great distance.
The elf’s face creased with worry. “Are yousure?”
“Yes.” Carmine wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Everything was a risk. No one could be trusted. But…
“He’s mine. I want to be with him.”
“He’s yours?”
“He’s my anchor,” she lied, mostly to herself.
The elf didn’t look entirely convinced, but they did take a step back. “I saw a bite, but… Isn’t he a vampire?”
“I’m neutral,” she replied, glancing around reflexively, like someone might pop out of the woods and snatch her the moment the words left her mouth.
It took a second for the elf to understand what she was saying. “Oh. So you can—Oh.”They ran their gloved fingers through the short bristles of their hair. “So he’s your consort?”
“My what?”
“Your mate.”
“Oh, um…” Carmine brushed her hair over her shoulder, hopefully hiding her blush from everyone, including Atticus. An anchor was supposed to be forever, and in her fantasy she liked the idea of never letting Atticus go, but reality was a different matter. Carefully managed, anchorscouldbe temporary, and she and Atticus certainly had no claim on one another.Especiallyafter she’d blown whatever chance she had the previous night.
“It’s new. Depends on if he wants to be.”
The elf made a face. “So odd.”
“What is?”
“The idea that you might not know. Or that you might make the wrong choice.” They shook their head. “Elves are different.”
Carmine blinked owlishly up at them. “Well, youaregreen.”
When the elf smiled, they flashed two sets of razor sharp fangs. “You’ve got me there.” They jerked their head toward the RV. “You sure?”
“Yes.”Gods, I hope so.
“All right then.” They stepped aside.
Carmine hustled around them, eager to get back to the relative safety of the RV, but she didn’t dare meet Atticus’s gaze as she clambered back into the passenger’s seat. She’d only just clipped herself in when there was a knock on her window.
When she lowered it, the elf gave her a long look and said, “It was nice chatting with you, Miss Safi. I hope your new life works out. I’m sure you’ll find a job as a mortician here. Gods know we need more good people willing to tend to the dead.”
Carmine offered her a small smile. “Thank you. For that and— and for the other thing. I really appreciate it.”
