“You know,” he said. “With the dead crawling at your feet.”
Her stomach turned. The blood leached out of her skin, leaving her cold.
“Ah.” He waved her off, crushing the nub of his cigarette in the sink. “I’ve said too much. I always talk too much. Do me a favor, will you? Tell Price I dropped by.” His eyes flashed with exuberance. “And you can go ahead and add that Meeker said he’s a dead man.”
When he made for the door, so did Delaney.
“Don’t go,” she said, blocking his path. “First tell me what you meant. About the dead crawling at my feet.”
But something in his expression had changed at their proximity. He sniffed up at her, a crease forming between his brows. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. The mug was flung from her grasp, shattering over the floor. Coffee bled into the grout in muddy rivers.
“Hey!” She pulled back, heart hammering, but his grip was like a vise. They stood uncomfortably close in the sprawling kitchen, the cigarette reek of his breath stinging the air between them.
“I smell it on you,” he said.
The hairs rose on the back of her neck. “What?”
“Holy shit.” He let out a low whistle. “You’re goddamn flush with it.”
She swallowed, her throat thick. “Flush with what?”
“Immortality.”
“Meeker.” Colton’s voice cracked through the kitchen like thunder.
Meeker dropped Delaney’s wrist at once, drawing clear. Colton stood in the archway, sweating through his running clothes. His jaw was a tight line, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look at Delaney. Only at Meeker, who had begun to wring his hands in earnest.
“Ah, buddy,” Meeker said. “You’re home. You look good. Healing nicely. Cold for a run today, though.”
Colton stayed silent. His stare was a wall, dark and lethal. His chest rose and fell in measured breaths. Meeker blinked, recalibrating, and darted for the door, only to have Colton swallow up his exit.
“Where are you going?”
Meeker took a too-big swallow of air. “Home,” he said. “Recorded last night’s game. There’s an ice-cold beer and a plate of wings in the fridge with my name on it.”
Colton’s eyes flitted to Delaney and away. “I can’t let you take this to the Apostle.”
Some of the color bled out of Meeker’s face. “You’re unbelievable, Price, you know that? You know what she is and you’re letting her wander around like it’s nothing.”
“I’m handling it.”
“Handling it?” Meeker barked out a laugh. “It reeks like the depths of Hell in here. She’s practically got brimstone coming out of her ears. She’s not yours to keep, you know. This win belongs to all of us. You think I’m not taking this little piece of news to the boss, you’re insane.”
A muscle ticked in Colton’s jaw. “Stop talking.”
“Insane,” Meeker said again. “I always knew it. You know what I said? I said, give him enough rope, Price’ll hang himself. And look at you now, you selfish asshole.” He jabbed a finger in Delaney’s direction. “That girl’s a noose around your goddamned neck.”
Pushing forward, he strong-armed his way past Colton.
“Should have left her alone, Price.” His shout rebounded all through the empty house. “Once the Apostle gets wind of this, he’s going to come after his creature. It won’t be long before your little girlfriend here is six feet under like the rest of them.”
There was a beat—a sliver of hesitation. A fraction of a pause. Colton’s gaze met Delaney’s across the chilly kitchen. His breath had gone serrated, the whites of his eyes visible. She could see what he was about to do written on his face, sure as she knew her own heart, her own head.
“Colton—”
The sound of his name jarred him out of repose, and all at once he was moving. Out of the shadow-bitten arch of the doorway. Into the foyer, his sneakers silent against tile. Delaney tailed after him, her heart in her throat, her skin needled in a chill that had nothing to do with the wide-open window.
“Colton,” she called. He didn’t look back at her. “Colton, just—”
