Page 19 of Veiled Yearning

“Well…” Another pause. “Do we need to go to Buffalo today? Can’t we stay at your place tonight? You said it was safe there. I could add some shields. And then finish the trip tomorrow?”

I’m torn. On one hand, I told Frederick we’d be there tonight, and we have a lot to discuss when I get there. On the other… if it makes Chiara feel better to drag the trip out, is another night really going to hurt?

“Nevermind.” Her voice is soft, disappointed. “Forget I asked.”

Dammit. I’m already making her miserable. If I can do something to help… I find myself saying, “No, it’s fine. We can stay in Manchester for the night.”

“You don’t mind?”

Spending another evening with Chiara, watching more movies, and possibly sharing a bottle of wine from my wine cellar? Compared to a long drive across New York State? “No. I don’t mind at all.”

Chiara flashes me a small smile. “Thanks, Gavril.”

The tension in the car eases after that. Over the next ten minutes, her leg stops nervously tapping and her death-grip on the seat cushion relaxes. She starts asking me questions about my house, and Vermont, if I’ve ever tried maple sugar candy, and if so, did I like it?

“Yes, and no,” I tell her. “I tried it, but I’m not a fan. Much too sweet.” While vampires can’t digest human food, we can still eat small amounts of it; either for the taste or to keep up appearances when we’re around non-vampires.

“That’s what I thought,” Chiara agrees. “I really wanted to like it. And it looks so pretty.”

“What about salt-water taffy? That’s really popular in Maine, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes.” She brightens. “I love salt-water taffy—”

She’s cut off when we’re slammed into from behind.

It’s hard. Jarring.

Instinctively, I fling my arm in front of Chiara while I clutch the wheel with the other.

A moment later, we’re hit again.

We jerk forward in our seats, whiplashing.

In the rearview mirror there’s a large van, so close I can’t see inside it.

I’m fighting for control even as the car wants to revolt.

Chiara’s voice is high and scared. “Gavril—”

“It’s okay,” I grit out, feeling very much not okay. “I’ve still got control of the car.”

Or I did.

Until the second car comes flying up alongside us.

In tandem, both cars slam into us at once.

Chiara screams.

We go rocketing off the road and toward the trees.

How is this happening?

Chiara!

There’s a tremendous crash. Metal crunches. Glass shatters. The airbag explodes in my face.

For a moment, I can’t see. I can’t hear.

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