Page 18 of Mated Exile

"We're at 65," Demetri grumbles. "Ambrosia justhadto pull over for a drink. Don't wait for us—I don't want to fall behind on schedule. Just make sure the van is secure before you stop."

"The mutts are both asleep," he says confidently.

"Still, makecertain.I gave you enough paralytic agent to bring down an elephant. Use it."

There's a grumbling bite to the response, "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it."

I internally roll my eyes, though externally I do everything in my power to feign sleep. That kind of pissy attitude wouldn't be tolerated in a pack, but then again, in a pack the alpha would never be like Demetri. Werewolf alphas are leaders, but they're also caretakers, protectors, and providers. Theyearnthe respect of those around them more than anything.

My heart gives a little squeeze as memories of my father overwhelm me. There's so much I wish I could say to him, and so many questions that I have. It's barely been a day since I discovered that heknewabout the curse that plagued the Glass Pack, and put a microchip in my neck as a result, to keep me from shifting.

What I don't understand is why he didn't tell me, or do more to stop the curse from taking over. I want to believe that he had a good reason, but so far I haven't been able to find one. I'm afraid that once I do, I won't like what I discover—about my father, or about myself.

The vampires pull our van off into an exit lane. Moments later, it pulls to a stop, and the engine turns off.

I keep my breathing slow and steady, listening closely. The driver says, "I'm going to go in and take a piss. You got this?"

"I think I can handle a couple of sleeping mutts. Especially with the stuff Demetri gave me."

"Good. Fill the tank up."

The van shifts as his weight moves, then the door slams shut behind him. I dare to open my eyes just a sliver, glancing up towards Bastian. He looks so much like he's asleep that it's hard to remember we're both faking it.

There's a sound in the front seat. The vampire grumbles, "Damned new hand. You'd think he would've untied this for me before he handed it over." Then I hear him inhale, prepared to blow the powder in our faces. I hold my breath.

Seconds tick by. I feel the brush of the powder against my skin. It tingles and burns where it lands.

I refuse to inhale.

"There. Done."

The van shifts again, and the second vamp gets out. He slams the door behind him.

Something nudges my boot. Glancing up, I open my eyes—and widen them to see that Bastian is up, breathing in deeply, his mouth open. He motions towards me.

I stare at him. In a low, urgent voice he murmurs, "Breathe. Do it very, very slowly. In through the mouth. You won't fall asleep again."

Carefully, I do as he says. It feels counterintuitive to part my lips and let even a little bit of the powder onto my tongue and into my lungs. I'd been planning on holding my breath until I got out of the van, or at least until the powder no longer shimmered in the air in front of me, held aloft by its own light weight. Its acrid taste makes me wince, and I shudder.

"Good," Bastian says approvingly. "Keep breathing in, slowly, through your mouth as much as possible."

"Why?" I take the slowest breaths I dare. "Isn't that what they want?"

"The powder works less each time they use it on you. Especially if they use it many times in a row. That's why they kept us under for so long—the instant you wake up, you start to metabolize it, and if they try to put you under again too soon, it doesn't work as well. Also, it dissolves a little on your tongue, and when you ingest it, it's harmless. So it's better to swallow some by breathing in through your mouth."

"Wow. You've figured out a lot in your time being their captive."

A shadow crosses his face, and I feel like I've said something wrong. In a low voice he murmurs, "It wasn't me who figured all that out."

He doesn't sound like he wants to elaborate, so I tamp down on my curiosity instead of asking him more questions. For several long, quiet moments, we breathe in through open mouths, until the powder has settled away from us. Outside the window, the vampire fills up the tank, not even looking in to check on us. After a moment he glances at the pump, pulls out his wallet, and heads towards the gas station, either to pay inside or grab a human snack or two from behind the counter.

"Okay. It's now or never." Bastian rips his arms away from the van, and I blink a little as I see that somehow he's gotten the chains off his wrists. Grinning at me, he opens his palm to show me a long, silver key in his hand. "I got this off of Marcellus's belt while they were putting me under again. The vamps rarely bother to use more than one key, since they're lazy and misplace things. Thought you might need it."

My heart leaps. "Thanks. I was just planning on waiting for them to unchain me, and feigning sleep the whole time. This is better."

"You're welcome." Leaning forward, he grabs for my manacles and unlocks them, then passes me the key. "From what I saw, we haven't even left Oregon yet." Another shadow flickers across his face, gone as soon as it comes. "I'd almost forgotten that was where they were keeping me."

My heart beats heavily. "It's been so long for you." I reach down and unlock my ankle manacles one at a time. "I'm sure you're looking forward to re-entering the world."

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