Page 22 of Barely Breathing

“Where to?” the driver asks.

I look at Costin to answer before I begin texting. Costin gives basic directions, and we start moving into traffic.

“What are you doing?” Costin asks.

“Telling Anthony I’m sorry I didn’t wait for him, but I’m not letting him put himself in danger.” I liedwhen my brother asked me what time we were leaving.

“How long until we’re there?” I ask, setting my phone on the seat beside me.

“An eternity by this carriage,” Costin grumbles.

“We call them cars now,” I tease.

“You’re smiling. Does that mean I can be sweet now?” His hand glides over my thigh.

I try to shake him off, but it only makes his fingers explore higher. The driver’s eyes meet mine through his rearview mirror. I place my hand on Costin’s to still his exploration.

I give a meaningful glance forward. “Not here.”

“May I mesmerize the driver?”

I push his hand off my leg.

He holds himself quiet, but I feel the weight of his presence beside me like a physical thing. I can’t tell if he’s mimicking me or feeling the effects of time. I find myself watching him more than where we’re going. Hypnotic lights dance across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, bending and moving like a living thing over his features. He doesn’t need vampiric magic to mesmerize me. He’s doing a good job of it just being close. But beneath his beauty, beneath his power, I see the calculating way in which he watches the city pass.

My breath catches when his hand finds mine on the seat. His thumb traces circles on my palm, each touch sending shivers up my arm.

“Your heart is racing,” he whispers, too low for the driver to hear. “Are you afraid?”

“Not of you.” The lie comes easily, like flirting.

His smile is treacherous. I know the power he holds. He leans closer, his cool breath ghosting across my neck where he’s bitten me before. “You should be.”

I’m not scared of him. I feel the tender seduction that contradicts his words. The pull between us is more potent than any supernatural power, and that’s what terrifies me most.

It’s not fair. I want to be mad at him. Logic tells me to, but I find myself wanting to forget the transgressions.

Fucking vampires. It’s how they’re made. They draw humans in. He probably can’t help it any more than I can help breathing.

I gently push his face away and rub at my neck as if that will erase the memory for both of us.

My cellphone dings, pulling my attention to a text from Anthony that simply reads, “Asshole.” Seconds later, another comes, “Be safe.” Then, the third, “I can’t believe you ditched me.”

“Stop,” Costin commands the driver. I see hisfinger lift and move to the side like he’s casting a spell.

The car pulls over.

We get out in a sketchy neighborhood. Streetlights flicker over abandoned buildings in an industrial district. The muffled sound of heavy metal music pounds beneath the sidewalk, leaking up from grates and cracks. Each breath is filled with the taste of dust, stirred by a breeze sweeping over us. Energy hums in the air, but I don’t know if it’s real or my fear.

I’ve heard stories of werewolves. They’re much worse than Hollywood movies.

We turn a corner, and I see smoke lifting from a metal grate. The scent of cooking meat and burning wood is enhanced as the primal music becomes louder. Someone howls, and the sound is followed by gruff laughter.

“Remember,” Costin says as we approach a padlocked gate, “werewolves aren’t like us. They’re?—”

“Don’t say dangerous,” I scold. “I’m not stupid. Everything in this world is dangerous. You’re dangerous.”

“I was going to say unpredictable.” His hand finds the small of my back. “They live for the moment, for sensation. They don’t always think. It makes them dangerous in ways vampires aren’t.”

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