Page 16 of Soulmates
“What?”
I shrug. A car winds down the street in front of us. The sage scrub surrounding us doesn’t give much cover, and we both freeze. The car passes, and I stand. “Let’s go.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re staying tonight.”
“That’s because I don’t know.”
The uncertainty lasts until we reach my condo.
“OMG. we should totally stay here!”
David spreads his arms and swirls around the middle of my living room like he’s Maria von Trapp and the hills are singing.
I shake my head, still not sure how he managed to run through the scrub in those heels without breaking something. “Easy, princess. Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Why not?” He bounces over to my leather sofa. “This wouldn’t be your lair if it wasn’t armed to the gills. We’re probably safer here than anywhere else.”
I’m on the move, and he contorts himself to follow me. “And if I’m a princess, does that make you a prince?”
I let a beat pass. “I’m not compatible with any particular sign, baby.”
He tilts his head, the purple streaks flopping like puppy dog ears. “Did you seriously just mangle a Prince lyric?”
My grin spreads slowly, at least until I realize I’m smiling, and I stop. “What can I say? I’m a fan. Now don’t mess with anything while I pack.”
I leave him doing dance moves while singing “Kiss” in a light falsetto. He’s doing a fair imitation of the Purple One, but no one’s been in my space since Connor. There’s something about having a stranger—and yeah, even though we’d fucked, Davidis still pretty much a stranger—spreading his energy around my space thatfeels odd. Connor’s scent has faded, but I want to hold on to the rest: his fingerprints, his breath, his life force. Maybe I’m keeping the place as a shrine, but I don’t care. David’s bright, vital presence turns Connor’s absence into a stabbing pain, gutting me.
I toss a fistful of clean shirts, some jeans, and a blazer in an overnight case. I really do need to figure out a plan. We could keep hitting safe houses, I mean, Jacques has at least eight scattered around the city. But someone knew where to send the chindi. Sheena could haveratted us out, but a stab in the back isn’t her style. She’d want to look me in the eye when shecut me down.
But if Sheena’s the only person who knew where we’d crashed, and she didn’t send the chindi, then there’s a wild card out there.
And I only play poker in Vegas.
When I come back into the living room, David’s wandering around touching things, spreading his stink of wolf and cigarettes. Those booty shorts are killing me.Sonofabitch.“I gotta grab one more thing, and then we’re gone.” I’m still not sure wherewe’re going, but maybe it’ll be better if I make it up on the fly.
I head for the kitchen and pull a small cooler bag out of an otherwise empty cupboard. I open the stainless steel refrigerator door for my stash; three one-unit bags of blood. There’s about eight ounces ineach, and they’ll last mea week.
Seven days before I have to hit the blood bank again or come up with an alternative.
David, of course, has followed me into the kitchen. “What’s that?” He points at the blood.
“Nothing.” I stuff the bags in the cooler and tighten the Velcro closure. I’m half-starved now, but there’s no way I’m going to eat in front of him.
“Wait.” He grabs my wrist. “You really did holdout on me.”
“Yeah, so? Come on. We gotta go.” I pivot, jerkingout of his grasp. The kitchen’s smaller in proportion than the rest of the condo. Never bothered me much, but I’m a little surprised by how much space a small werewolf takes up. David’s looming, way too much presence for me to pass by.
“You could have fed from me.” He rams me with his chest, forcing me back against the counter. “Why didn’t you? I could have had the orgasm of the century, and you denied.”
I pinch thebridge of my nose. He’s twenty-two. Of course he thinks with his dick. “Leaving now.”
He huffs and backs away. Great. Now I’ll get to see what pouty David looks like. He follows me silently—thank God—and we head for the car.
We come off the elevator, andthe parking garage is deserted, a cavern of cement underneath the building. A few cars are parked in the stalls, each more expensive than the last, and the harsh fluorescent lights turn all their paint colors to gray. My SUV is to the left, and an open staircase is across from us.
The bullet catches me in the shoulder, next to the strap of my overnight bag. David and I both hit the ground. I cover him with my body till we figure out which direction the shots are coming from. The bullet’s not silver, which is a weird stroke of luck I’ll have to think aboutlater. Even so, it stings enough to make me grit my teeth.
David gives a muffled squawk, and I ease off. I crabwalk both of us back to the elevator. We’re too exposed, so our only protection is to stay low.
