“I’m going to get the supplies from the Jeep,” he said.
Callie didn’t look at him as she kicked off her sneakers and headed for the bathroom. Lucien watched as she closed the bathroom door before he stepped outside, shut the door, and jogged across the parking lot to the Jeep.
He kept his senses honed to the night as he scented the air and searched for any hint of a threat. The only thing he detected was the feral scent of wild animals and the crisp, mountain air.
He removed the cooler from the Jeep before checking the one strapped to the rack on the back. Inside were a couple of six-packs of beers. He pulled out one of the six-packs and shoved them into Callie’s cooler before returning to the room.
He opened the door again and slipped inside. The sound of the shower greeted him as the door clicked shut behind him, and he froze. His heart raced, and though he just fed, his fangs elongated as saliva filled his mouth.
She was in that shower, she was naked, and he ached to watch the water sliding down her body, between the valley of her breasts, along her stomach, and between her legs. He’d never drank water before, but he longed to lick the stream from her in leisurely, tantalizing strokes. He became so hard, so fast, he almost groaned when his dick strained against his jeans.
A bang from the shower pulled him from his imaginings of fucking her. He hurried to the door as fast as he could in his current condition.
“Everything okay?” he called through the door.
“Yes!” she shouted back and bent to retrieve the soap she’d dropped.
He contemplated going in there to check on her, but he could only imagine how she’d react if he walked in on her. No, despite his concern, he couldn’t invade her privacy in such a way.
Lucien retreated to sit on the edge of the bed. He fell back to stare at the ceiling while listening to the shower and attempting to not imagine her naked form as she ran the soap over her lush body. He tried to will his erection away, but he was still as hard as a rock when the shower shut off fifteen minutes later.
Lucien sat up and listened to her moving about in the room. Another ten minutes passed before she emerged. A cloud of steam billowed out the door behind her. She was fully dressed again, and her wet hair spilled around her shoulders.
She briefly met his gaze before she walked over to the cooler, opened it, and pulled out some of the supplies they took earlier. Retreating to the bathroom, she closed the door and spent the next five minutes scrubbing her teeth before turning her attention to working out the knots in her hair.
She left the toiletries next to the sink, along with his unopened toothbrush, and returned to the room. She didn’t say a word as she walked past him, sat on the edge of the bed as far from him as she could get, lifted the remote, and turned on the TV.
Lucien struggled to find something to break the tension between them, but words failed him. He’d never been one for conversation, and he certainly hadn’t done much conversing with the women in his past. However, he found himself desperate to break this friction so she would smile at him again.
Unfortunately, he came up with nothing. Pushing himself off the bed, he rose and walked into the bathroom to shower. Frustration mounting, he kicked the door shut behind him.
It felt as if a hand split open her chest and gripped her heart when the bathroom door banged shut. She stared at it for a minute before flipping through the channels until she found a rerun of The Office.
She’d seen the episode a dozen times already, but she couldn’t handle the news, and she needed some laughs. However, despite her love of the show, she didn’t think she would laugh much right now.
They were finally somewhere safe, her adrenaline was ebbing, and all she had left was reality. And that reality told her she had nothing left.
She closed her eyes against a wave of grief. She couldn’t give in to her despair now; if she did, she would start crying and never stop.
And she would not let Lucien see her cry. Looking to distract herself, she scooted back on the large, queen-size bed and rested against the wooden headboard.
Unlike the motel office, this room was far more modern. The pale peach of the walls emphasized the bright colors in the landscape paintings on the wall. Mounted to the wall above a new, oak dresser hung a flat-screen TV. A small refrigerator sat to the left of the dresser.
She listened to Lucien as he finished brushing his teeth, and when the shower turned on, she rose and walked over to the cooler. She was surprised to discover the beer on top, but she slid it into the fridge along with a couple of waters. Another sandwich was tucked inside, along with a couple of bags of chips. It had been a while since she ate, but the idea of food made her stomach churn, and not in a good way.
She placed the sandwich in the fridge and took a bottle of water before retreating to the bed. The idea of sleeping in this bed with him caused her heart to race, but the small armchair in the corner didn’t look inviting, and she was not in the mood for the floor.
It hadn’t been long since she last slept in a bed, but it felt like forever, and she couldn’t lose the opportunity. Unfortunately, that meant sleeping beside him all night again when she’d prefer to get as far away as possible.
She set the water on the nightstand and focused on the TV, but she didn’t see what was happening. Instead, all she kept seeing was Lucien’s arms around that woman as she released that sound again.
She longed to clap her hands over her ears to block it out, but that woman’s moan was ingrained in her mind. What would have happened if she wasn’t there?
She could well imagine, and she didn’t want to as it only made her more jealous, and she despised the feeling. She didn’t care what he did or with who; all she cared about was surviving.
Ten minutes later, the water shut off, and she listened as he moved around the bathroom. Her throat went dry as she pictured him in there, naked. Excitement raced through her veins, but when she recalled him feeding on the desk clerk, all her excitement vanished.
Something clattered, and the sink water turned on. She glanced at the red numbers on the clock. It was almost midnight, and it was another ten minutes before the door opened.
Even as she commanded herself not to look at him, her eyes darted in his direction, and her breath sucked in. Her fingers twisted in the bedspread as a million thoughts raced through her head; most of them were X-rated.
It was as if an entirely different man stepped out of that bathroom. And in a way, she supposed he was. The man she first encountered desperately needed blood.
This man had recently fed, was no longer covered in grime, had already put on weight, and no longer sported a beard over the bottom half of his gorgeous face. She’d seen plenty of good-looking men in person, on movie screens, and in the pages of magazines, but none of them compared to the Adonis standing across from her.
It was unfair. All she wanted was to distance herself from him, and there he was, a walking, talking, sex-on-a-stick temptation that had her nearly drooling. The more she tried to tear her eyes away, the more they remained riveted on his square jaw, entirely too kissable lips, broad chest, and abs she could bounce a quarter off.
No, it was entirely unfair that he looked so good when he was the worst road she could ever travel. It was bad enough she was entangled in this mess; she couldn’t make matters worse by getting involved with this vamp.
With that reminder firmly in mind, she shifted her attention back to the TV as a commercial came on. Lucien padded toward the bed and sat on the other side of it. He stared at the phone on the nightstand while Callie remained unmoving on the other side of the bed.
Now that they were somewhere safe, there was no reason for him not to call Ronan, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He hadn’t become a Savage, but he’d been close, and if he’d grabbed one of those other women first, he would have killed them.
He was thinking a lot clearer now that he’d showered and jerked off. He would have preferred to be inside her, but at least he’d found some release from the pressure in his shaft.
With that release, and the influx of fresh blood from the motel clerk, he could think better. And as he scrubbed himself, he contemplated his intense attraction to her and his overwhelming drive to keep her safe. As he did, a possibility niggled at his brain.
Was she his mate?
At first, he tried to deny it. He didn’t know how the others felt before they found their mates, but it was the last thing he wanted in his life. He was a killer; he thrived on the thrill of the battle and crushing out another’s life.
Killing was what kept him stable and alive. He couldn’t have a mate interfering in his simple, ordered life; it was how he survived. It had taken him a long time to stabilize himself and feel fairly confident he wouldn’t become a Savage; he achieved it by hunting and killing Savages regularly.
He didn’t want anything to interfere with that, not even a mate. And he certainly couldn’t have his life entwined with another’s. Actually, he didn’t want her life intertwined with his.
His life was brutal; he’d lived this long because he was good at killing, but it was only a matter of time before he lost again. He liked to think he was invincible, but he’d been captured and was only free because of his determination to save her.
However, even if his compulsion to keep her safe guided him through the rest of his days, the odds were good he would one day lose another battle and end up dead or imprisoned again. If Callie was his mate, and he turned her, she would die when he did.
The possibility of her death almost caused him to batter the shower wall, but he managed to keep himself restrained. Beating up the shower would only scare her and drive her further away.
The realization he might have found his mate rattled him. He kept thinking up reasons to deny it, but it was the only thing that made sense. He’d been out of his mind in that pit, but the second he experienced her pain, he put her needs first.
He’d been weak, yet he found the strength to evade the Savages pursuing them. He’d been starved and crazed, but he restrained himself from feeding on her as much as he could have.
There was only one explanation for what propelled him beyond what should have been his capabilities in those tunnels, and that was his need to protect his mate. Shit.
He almost turned to look at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If she was his mate—and he believed she was—he was condemning her to a brutal life, and that was only if she agreed to it. She could walk away, and he would let her because he couldn’t bring himself to make her unhappy. And if she walked away, his life was over.
He released a long breath through his clamped teeth and dug his fingers into his thighs as he stared at the phone. He had to call; it was the only thing that would keep her safe, but for the first time in his life, he dreaded talking to Ronan.
He’d nearly given in and become one of their enemies. How could he look at Ronan and the others while knowing this about himself?
However, he’d never been a coward, and he wasn’t about to start now.