“Stalking her for the right reasons,” Raoul says with a smile of his own. “Okay then. Let’s go after our girl.”
25Christine
I lie on the double bed in the motel room, staring at the ceiling above. It’s cracked in one spot and bellied slightly, a pustule of plaster that sickens me whenever I look at it. The thin, scratchy blanket on the bed chafes against my outstretched arms. Despite the bold, sharp scent of cleaning fluid and room freshener, liberally sprayed to disguise the telltale odor, the stale reek of cigarettes clings to the walls.
I disliked my tiny studio apartment at the New Orpheum, but Ihatethis room. Walking in, I could practically feel the layers of filth saturating the carpet. But it’s all I can afford.
Despite my intentions, I didn’t drive far from Nashville. Couple hours southwest, maybe, past the Amish community of Ethridge, into farmland. By then, I was crying too hard to drive in the dark any longer, so I pulled off at the first shabby motel I found. I’ve been lying here, immobilized by doubt and anxiety, for longer than I care to admit.
Instead of trying to figure out my problems, I ran away. I can’t decide if that was brave or stupid.
When my parents were killed, I didn’t run from the estate battlewith the Progeny. I fought them, and I lost. That battle sapped all the fight out of me, and I’m tired, so tired I could cry, so tired I want to crawl into the dark gap under this bed and never move again.
Maybe I should have stayed in Nashville. But a relationship with a god and a werewolf, plus the lead in a musical, plus my secret vampire lifestyle, all felt like too much work. I’m not afraid of work, truly, but that kind of work—the work of relationships, of love, oftrust—I’m too weak to take it on. I don’t have enough hope to fuel that kind of energy.
Raoul and the Angel will be fine without me. Raoul is already softening, shifting into the morally gray space in which the Angel moves. He’ll make excuses for the blackmail thing, or maybe he’ll teach the Angel to do better. They’ll forget me and be happy together while I start over. Again.
Tears trickle from my eyes because I want that elusive thing called “unconditional love.” I want companionship, and I want family, but at the same time, I really, really don’t. Family is a poison in the blood, one you can’t escape, and there’s no antidote except distance. Even then, the symptoms of the toxin persist, curdling your soul and shaking your resolve when you least expect it. If only I could—
Someone knocks at the door.
I remain absolutely still, frozen with apprehension.
The knock is repeated, and then a low, musical, masculine voice murmurs something I can’t quite hear. A second voice, muffled and insistent, protests, “You can’t just go in.” But apparently he’s overruled, because the next second, the electric lock beeps and clicks.
I sit up, dashing away my tears and pushing back my hair, torn between shock and anger. My body is already keyed up, and the defensive surprise I feel makes my fangs emerge.
Raoul enters first—a wise choice, because I’m less likely to killhim. He’s wearing low-slung jeans and an unbuttoned shirt, like he threw it on in a hurry. He doesn’t have his glasses; he’s probably still wearing the contacts he wore to the party earlier.
His coppery hair is ruffled into a tangle that tempts my fingers. I want to separate the waves, arrange them, and massage his scalp while he relaxes and his eyes close.
“I tracked you by your scent,” he says apologetically. “Don’t be mad.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel,” I snap.
“Fair enough.” He holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “It washisidea.” He steps aside, and the Angel enters my motel room.
He looks dramatically out of place here—tall, beautiful, and deadly serious, wearing a white mask over the right side of his face. His black hair is perfectly coiffed in glossy waves, his red suit immaculate. His eyes fix on me, their golden depths churning with blended resentment, hurt, and regret.
Raoul speaks again, his voice higher than usual, fragile with nerves. “Good news. Looks like my contacts stay in place when I switch forms, unlike my clothes. I guess I’ll have to get used to wearing glasses less often.”
I stare at him, unsmiling.
He clears his throat. “I had to run beside the truck in wolf form part of the time so I could track you.Hedrove. It’s a miracle we made it without him crashing into a tree or running me over.”
“I’m an excellent driver,” replies the Angel, still holding my gaze. “I learn quickly. And tonight, Christine, I have learned that while you will accept my help in the form of lessons, you would prefer that any significant career goals are achieved on your own terms, without any hint of outside force or interference. Therefore, I apologize for using my influence in a way that madeyou uncomfortable.”
I frown, trying to think of what to say. It’s a decent apology, but I’m still angry. I still feel like he hasn’t paid for what he did or fully realized how it hurt me.
At that moment, Raoul coughs and mutters, “Grovel,” which pulls my attention away from the Angel.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” I tell Raoul. “You had no right to track me down. Just because you’re a wolf now doesn’t mean you get to hunt down vampires.”
“That’s not at all what I—”
“And why are you even here?” I rise from the bed, shaking, trying to keep my voice steady. “You told me your family is already behaving in the same abusive, overbearing way they always have, ignoring your preferences and your consent, and yet you refuse to set boundaries. I won’t be linked to a family like that again, Raoul. Irefuse.”
“You want me to break ties with them?” He plunges a hand through his hair, then shakes his head. “It’s not that simple, Christine.”
