Nothing stopping her at all. Aside from the fact that it might get both of them killed.
“I’m getting dressed,” she said, cutting off her wandering thoughts. She ignored the low, pained chuckle that came from the bed and hightailed it into the bathroom. She tugged on her jeans, then brushed her teeth with her finger, wishing she had a toothbrush. And clean clothes. And a comb.
Her hair was hopeless. The best she could do was to snarl it into a low knot. When she opened the bathroom door, she was relived to see that Walker had gotten dressed too.
Though she hated to admit it, the more layers of clothes there were between them, the better. If she hadn’t been so angry and terrified in the middle of the night, who knew what might have happened?
“My turn,” he announced, sliding past her into the bathroom.
She flopped down on the bed. Her phone still showed Susan’s missed call, but there was no voice mail. Keira called the school, lowering her voice enough to pass for her mother. One quick case of fake strep throat and she was off the attendance hook for the day.
She sat on the bed and flipped the phone between her fingers. What could she possibly tell Susan that wouldn’t make her best friend worry that she’d lost her mind? How could she explain what had happened? What she was?
Keira couldn’t think straight. She didn’t miss her parents, couldn’t care less about being away from her house, but her piano was a different story.
“Why are you grinding your teeth?” Walker’s voice split the stillness of the room and Keira leapt to her feet.
“You scared the crap out of me!”
“Uh, sorry? I didn’t realize I had been so ninjalike.”
Keira laughed, surprising herself.
Walker nodded approvingly. “Laughing in the face of mortal danger. I’m proud.” He motioned toward the phone lying on the bed. “So, did you talk to Susan?”
Keira sat back down on the bed. “Not yet.” She looked up at Walker. His hair was damp, and stubble shadowed his chin. It made him look more rugged than usual. Keira wondered what it would feel like against her skin—she wanted to run her lips across his jawline to see exactly how rough it was.
“Why?” he asked, interrupting her blossoming daydream.
Keira closed her eyes. Her fingers drummed imaginary scales against the bedsheets, forcing her thoughts into line. “I can’t figure out what to tell her,” she admitted.
“Yeah. I can see that. What we really need is a plan. Like, a good plan.”
The conversation they’d had the night before wound through Keira’s thoughts. It had been easier to talk to him in the dark. The morning sun that poured into the room made her feel exposed.
“That would be nice,” she agreed. “Since ‘run like hell’ is going to be impossible to maintain. There must be something we could do. Someone who would be willing to help us over there? What about my dad? I can’t figure out why he never told me I’m a Darkling; why he never said anything about Darkside.”
Walker swallowed. “Your dad’s human. You know that, right?”
“What? But you said my mom was human. You said that’s why I was raised here, instead of Darkside!”
“Keira. I thought you’d realized—” He shut his eyes. “Your dad, the man who raised you, is human. But your real father is a Darkling.”
The news crashed into her with such force that the room seemed to tilt around her. Her father wasn’t really her father?
No. No. Oh, God, please no.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“WHAT?” THE WORD WAS little more than a whisper.
Walker licked his lower lip. “Keira, someone else, a Darkling, got your mother pregnant. Your dad isn’t your father. I’m sorry.”
All her parents’ fights tumbled around in her memory. No wonder things were so bad between her parents. Her dad knew that she wasn’t his daughter. Or he must suspect, at least. She had a vague memory of him joking about her being the first redhead in their family, and her mother snapping at him to quit.
She shivered. “Do you know who my real father is?” Saying the words felt like a betrayal. Her real father was the one who’d been to every one of her recitals. Who’d checked under her bed when she’d had little-girl nightmares. Who’d gotten choked up when she’d gone to get her driver’s license. That was her father.
“Are you hungry?” Walker asked suddenly.
Keira’s vision narrowed until all she saw were his eyes, darting around the room, looking for an escape.
“Why are you changing the subject?” she asked. Her stomach twisted, reminding her that she was hungry. That package of cookies the night before had been totally insufficient. She ignored it. “Do you know who my father is?” she asked again.
“I have a guess,” Walker admitted. “But I’m not totally sure.”
“So, he must know I exist. We should find him. Maybe he’ll help us.”
“There are a couple of problems with that,” Walker said softly.