Page 7 of Seph

“You’re hurt. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Actually...” Crow’s nostrils began to work. “Bloody hell. Never mind, you’re coming with me. I’m taking you with me.”

“No. You can kill me, but I’ll never join you. I won’t drink.” Her speech sounded slurred and feeble, and she hated it.

“Emily, I’ll buy you a drink any other night but tonight. I’m taking you with me, out of this wreck! Your car is leaking petrol, and this thing might go up like a bleedin’ Roman candle any second.”

White, bloodless hands were touching her, ripping her seatbelt from its holder with inhuman strength.

“Don’t touch me!” There. That sounded at least a little more commanding, worthy of a Van Helsing.

“I’m getting you out of the car. If it hurts, I’m sorry. It’s either me or death by inferno.”

“Just call me Dante.” She managed a smile. Her father had told her never to let a vampire see you’re afraid. They’ll let you live longer if they can have a conversation. They like something to play with. They were higher demons, still part human, that’s what he’d told her.

Soulless, but smart.

“Very funny. All right, Dante. Let’s have you out.”

Her car door went flying next, ripped off by the demon in a black leather trench coat and—and was that a hockey jersey underneath? Red plaid?

Vampires don’t wear plaid.

The scent of gasoline burned her nose. Maybe she was hallucinating. Simeon Crow would not be wearing plaid, and he wouldn’t be saving her life. Those thoughts were too complex. She focused on the obvious. “You talk like you’ve been in Dockland for years.”

“I have.”

“You went to Cambridge in the 1870s. You studied theology until you—”

“Don’t tell me what I know. All right, upsy-daisy.” Strong arms wedged under her back and legs. “Fuck.” He sounded genuinely distressed.

That can’t be good. Unless it’s a ploy. It’s probably a ploy.“What?”

“Steering wheel is smashed into your knees, love.”

“Don’t call melove.” She wanted to make air quotes. Why couldn’t her hands move? Where were her hands?Please let me still have hands.

She wriggled in her seat, and pain shot up her arms and down to her toes.

Yay! I have a spine! And hands!

“The steering wheel is smashed into your knees, your bleedin’ highness. If I yank that off, poof goes the airbag. Speaking of which, that should have deployed. I’d look into a good solicitor if I were you. You could sue the manufacturer.”

Emily winced again as his fist punched directly at her face—and hit the headrest, knocking her seat back by several inches and sending the innocent piece of car seat flying into the back.With an acrid hiss and pop, orange flames flared into life in Emily’s peripheral vision.

He’s going to leave me to burn now. He has to. Vampires might like to play with their food, but not enough to risk burning to death for it.

To her shock, Crow grabbed her again, none too gently, and yanked with all his might. Her jeans tore off at the knees, and her black hiking boots twisted painfully from her ankles, where they were trapped under the crushed interior of the driver’s floorboard. She fell out into the snow, cradled in his arms.

“That was a rental,” Emily gasped as the car turned into a black and orange fireball in front of her eyes.

“You are so badly concussed,” Crow griped and dragged her through the snow.

The shock of the cold and the pain were waking her up. The red staining the snow was worrying, especially as Simeon's gaze was fixed on the bloody puddles around her.

But I’ll worry about it later. After I nap.Her weak back gave out, and she flopped into the snow where Simeon deposited her.

“No. No! Van Helsing, don’t you dare do this to me.” Crow was suddenly picking her up again, his eyes crimson and his voice harsh.

“Do what?”

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