She barely noticed what she grabbed. None of her old street clothes fit right any longer. They all hung a bit loose on her frame.
It wasn’t like it mattered what she looked like anyway. Nobody cared, least of all herself. She wasn’t going to pause to put on makeup or a nice outfit for a confrontation with Malphas.
A confrontation with Malphas. The words echoed in her head. Her hands were shaking, while her mind raced in circles like a panicked jackrabbit.
Trust me, Xavier had said. And he was right. He had earned it.
She didn’t even know what had happened, or when, but something fundamental had changed. Like the continuous stream of decisions and actions that had brought her to this place, maybe what had happened wasn’t one single thing but a series of events that culminated into something far different from anything she could have imagined.
She had seen Xavier angry more than once. They had talked, argued, even laughed together. And when she had broken down to confess everything about Eathan and his father, instead of losing his temper or attacking her for possibly endangering people on the estate, he had pulled her into his arms and held her.
He had moved so far beyond the term “monster” in her mind, he might actually be the finest man she had ever met.
Trust me, he had said, and the look in his eyes had been . . . vulnerable. It had mattered to him that she did. He was usually so poised, so self-contained, the expression had jolted her out of her old habits and mind-set.
She zipped up her bag. For a moment, she simply stood and looked around her plain, peaceful room. She said in the empty air, “I think we’re going on a fool’s errand.”
Wherever that was.
But he had said trust me, so she would. He had connections, an entire network of people—creatures—that she could know nothing about, and centuries’ more knowledge and experience. That had to count for something. It should count for a lot.
Honestly, she didn’t know if that was a reasonable assessment, or if she was falling prey to a fool’s hope too.
She slipped on her jean jacket, slung her bag onto her shoulder, turned off the light and left the room.
As she neared the front door, she met Diego. He wore a black leather jacket and had a bag slung over his shoulder too. She stopped. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “I assume I’m going the same place you are, chica.”
“God, I hope not,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t wish where I’m going on my worst enemy.”
He grinned and opened the door. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
They walked outside together. Across the lawn, she saw Xavier standing by his Lexus, clearly waiting for them.
She and Diego approached, and when they neared, Xavier said to Diego, “Please drive.”
“Sure thing.” Diego slipped into the driver’s seat, while she and Xavier climbed into the back.
The interior smelled of expensive leather and the faint scent of a masculine aftershave that she recognized as Xavier’s. Instead of tensing with nerves, she found herself relaxing. She was beginning to associate his scent with comfort and safety.
He lounged beside her, perfectly calm and comfortable within himself like a lean hunting cat. In the dim illumination from the dashboard, his eyes glittered, sharp with intelligence.
As she snapped on her seat belt, Diego adjusted the rearview mirror and looked into it at Xavier. “Where to?”
“Evenfall,” said Xavier.
Diego nodded, reversed the vehicle and drove to the front gates, while her gut clenched, and briefly, she closed her eyes. They were going into a stronghold filled with Vampyres, into the very heart of the Nightkind demesne. She’d been right—she wouldn’t wish this trip on her worst enemy.
Xavier’s hand closed over the fist she pressed against her thigh, and she jumped. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he gave her a sidelong, crooked smile.
“Think of something positive, querida,” he told her. “Always think of something positive. It will calm your heart rate and clear your mind.”
In the angled rearview mirror, she saw Diego give them both a sharp, frowning glance. He looked unsettled, and she wondered why.
Xavier’s grip on her fist was steady and as gentle as he always was with her. She breathed evenly, focusing on his relaxed, alert presence instead of her own jumbled mass of nerves, and rather to her own surprise, she found herself calming almost immediately.
She whispered, “You really think everything is going to be okay.”
“I really do,” he replied, just as quietly. “We can find a way to go through this and reach the other side.”
Her clenched fist unlocked, and she turned her hand over to lace her fingers through his. His crooked smile widened into real warmth. He squeezed her fingers.