Page 5 of Thorn of Sorrow

Giovanni would’ve talked with you.

Not after Malachi had changed how I smelled, making me repulsive to vampires. None of them could stand to be around me for more than five seconds before they bolted.

Besides, that boat had sailed as far as Giovanni. I would never again feel safe in his arms.

When I noticed Dane studying me, I cleared my throat. “Your choice. I’m dipping out. You can stay in the marbled mausoleum, or we could kick it around town for a while.”

As good as the food tasted, I pushed away my plate and folded my arms on the table.

Dane chewed on his lower lip, indecision clear in his eyes. “You are a bad influence,” he huffed. “How long are we going to be gone?”

“An hour at most.” I snorted. “I don’t have any money, so we’ll just bum around.”

“Same.” He glanced past me. “An hour should be fine.” He got up and headed toward the door, then opened it. He and Malachi whispered, too low for me to hear. A pinch of jealousy struck me, wishing I had someone special in my life. The scars on my body ached, reminding me I was too hideous to love.

Dane closed the door and returned to the table. “I just bought myself some time.”

My brow arched. “What did you tell the big guy?”

A blush crept over his cheeks. “That you were finally opening up, so it was going to be a while. I told him you would find him when we were done.”

Because walking the halls wasn’t a risk for me like it was for Dane. His scent didn’t send vampires scrambling to get away. But just once, I wished one would hang around so I would have someone to talk to.

“Then let’s not waste time.” I slowly waved my hand up and down, forming a shimmer that would get us out of there. It was one of the “gifts” I’d been given when Malachi had shared a negligible part of his powers with me when he’d brought me here. He’d also given me immortality—because who wouldn’t want to live forever in this fucked-up body—and had made me pretty damn strong. Probably so I could fight off any vampires who tried to attack me, but my vampire-funk repellent had taken care of that in spades.

“You never told me how you do that,” Dane said, his gaze fixed on the rippling air in awe.

“Fairy dust.” I walked through first, my heart hammering as I emerged into the bright sun. From the alley I could hear cars passing on the street and birds chirping. The sun immediately warmed my skin with its glowing rays. I closed my eyes, soaking it in like a flower that had been deprived for far too long.

Dane ran into my back, disturbing the moment. “What the hell?”

“Why did you stop instead of clearing the way?” His gaze darted around, apprehension in his eyes. “You knew I was coming out behind you.”

The shadows in the alley felt like they were watching me. I kept staring at them, as if waiting for something to emerge. Now I wasn’t so sure leaving had been a bright idea, but I refused to give in to my fears.

“Are we in Ashwood?” He snapped his fingers in my face when I continued to stare at the shadows.

“Uh, yeah.” I tore my gaze away and focused on Dane instead. “I meant to move out of the way. The sun’s warmth highjacked me. My bad.”

“It does feel good.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I can already feel my mood growing lighter.”

I wished I could. Between the shadows and my dream, my mood was pretty low. Which was why I needed to get out and walk among people who didn’t hiss and run away from me.

We headed to the street then started down the sidewalk, no destination in mind.

“This place is pretty dead,” he commented.

“It wasn’t always like this.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Steel mill closed about fifteen years ago, putting a lot of people out of work.”

Dane stopped to look through the window of the closest store. When he turned, he glanced past me with a groan. “Please don’t let that be Deputy Douchebag.”

With a frown, I glanced over my shoulder and saw a police car driving slowly down the street. The number thirty-four was on the front panel. “If you mean Harrington, that’s his cruiser.”

“Shit,” he grumbled.

“You’ve met him?” I turned my attention to him, giving the car my back. I’d had a few run-ins with Harrington over the years. He was all brawn with half a brain, acting as if he owned Ashwood.

“Unfortunately,” he replied. “I was pulled over by Sheriff Whitmore the night I met you.” He glanced past me again, then looked away. “Deputy Douchebag showed up, making me want to smack him.”

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