She stands stock-still while I lift my hand. It’s the first time I’ve wished for something other than talons so I can touch her soft skin. “Stand down,” she commands to the other riders. Wisely, they listen. I could eviscerate everyone standing, even the prince, with little effort.
My enamor only lasts until the vampire’s tone becomes too much to ignore. Using what little restraint I possess, I don’t crush her throat immediately, but when one of the others attempts to intervene, I don’t hold back. His death is quick and not at all satisfying.
“Release the vampire.” Her voice floats over me as softly as freshly fallen snow, and I heed her call.
Once the others disperse, she tells me her name.Lore. My throat twitches with the first urge to speak in ages, but no sound passes my lips. I point to her chest, then to mine, telling her she belongs to me. She tips her chin in understanding, then introduces the demon that smells of her.
“When it rains, it pours.” She plants her hands on her hips and tips her head back. The sunlight hits her face, and I can see tiny freckles along her nose and cheeks. I want to trace each one until I could map the heavens with her marks.
“I just got him yesterday, and now we’ve found you. I don’t think you speak, so I don’t know your name.” She’s rambling to herself. I take another look at the demon, Modeus. I can’t recall his affliction, not that we ever crossed paths. His leash was pulled by his father, but it seems those chains are gone now.
“I believe I know his name,” Modeus says, and I wait to hear if he’s correct. “Egan.” He looks away from the center of our universe and meets my eyes. I nod once, confirming the truth of his words.
“Egan.” She murmurs my name as soft as a prayer, but I feel it like a thousand volts. I’m careful when I pick up her hand and place it over my chest. “Why can’t you speak?” she asks while staring up at me with her soft lips parted.
No one has dared or bothered to ask that of me in ages. She pats my chest lightly.
“I’m sure we’ll find a way to communicate.”
“We should head back,” Modeus suggests.
I place my hand over Lore’s. “You won’t have a comfortable fit on my bike, and we have a body to transport, but I know those wings of yours work. Are you good to fly?” She looks me up and down, and I have the urge to scoop her up and show her just how well everything else works, including my wings.
I nod.
“Unfortunately, there’s a lot of shit going on. I can give you the quick and dirty, and then we can talk details later. Sound good? Two taps for yes.” She raises her brows, and I tap the back of her hand over my chest twice.
“My dad went missing, and I’m in charge of the Obsidian Angels. You know what that is, right?”
Two taps. Understanding dawns—Harlow is the reason I was drawn here. He’s her father.
“There’s some shit I need to figure out about my dad and the club, but I need to go back and deal with the vampire and the riders who stood around while you could have tried to kill me.”
One tap, and I shake my head for good measure.
“I knew you weren’t going to do anything, but they didn’t,” she reasons.
I bare my teeth. I should have killed them all.
Lore pats my chest again, proving she understood my thoughts. “I’ll deal with them.”
“I’ve got this.” Modeus lifts up the lifeless shifter and tosses him over his shoulder. There’s a good amount of blood on the road beneath the body, but some still leaks from the wound in the man’s chest. “Unless you want him since you did the work,” Modeus says as he offers the corpse to me.
I tap Lore’s hand once. She snorts. “No to doing the work, or no you don’t want him?” Two taps. “He says you’re already bloody,” she tells the high demon, delivering my response in her own way. “I guess you could ride his bike,” she muses.
I shrug and shake my head, hoping she understands.
“You don’t know how?”
Two taps. Her lips curl up in a tiny smile.
“This isn’t so bad,” she says, referring to her way of communicating.
A grunting sound leaves my chest, and her eyes widen as she pushes her palm harder against me. I try for the sound again, but it eludes me. With one final tap to my chest, she gives me directions. “Downtown Delten, Jasper Square.”
I squeeze her fingers in response. She couldn’t lose me if she tried, but I appreciate the effort.
I trail Lore to her bike. I’m reluctant to allow her to be out of my reach, even for a few seconds, proving how much my world has shifted.
