The motel room wasn’t the worst one I’ve seen, but it wasn’t far off, either. Everything was shabby and threadbare, from the patchy, faded orange carpeting to the polyester bedspread that looked like it might have been saved from an estate sale in the ’80s. Or from a Dumpster. The bubble-front television had actual knobs instead of buttons, which I hadn’t seen since I was a kid.
Eli had made his own changes to the room: he’d pushed the bed to one wall, next to a round Formica table, creating a big open space where he’d laid down a clean sheet. He helped me to one of the four chairs next to the little table and took the next one for himself. I nodded at the sheet on the floor. “What’s going on there?”
“Oh,” he said, embarrassed. “I was trying to exercise.”
I nodded. “You must miss getting to surf.”
He shrugged. “I go over to the campus every night and run on the track, or do laps around the top of the parking garage. This is more for push-ups and stuff. A little yoga.” He ducked his head, embarrassed. “You know . . . man-yoga. For men.”
I blinked, finally understanding. I’m used to Eli being human, because he’s always been human when he’s around me. But werewolves are damn near indestructible, and he’d suddenly lost the ability to survive almost anything. It must feel vulnerable. No wonder he was trying to beef up.
Great job, Scarlett. Had anything good come out of what I’d done? “How do you feel?” I said quietly.
He smiled wanly. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“You go first.”
Eli exhaled. “I feel . . .” He thought for a moment, and a slow, building smile spread across his face. It sent a thrill up my skin. “I feel amazing,” he confessed. “I know I don’t deserve it, after what happened at the bar. But it’s like I’ve been walking around for years with thumbtacks stuck in the top layer of my skin, and suddenly they’re all gone. And it’s scary in a way, because I’m more . . . easily damaged. But it’s incredible,” he finished. He reached across the table to take my hand, and for once I didn’t pull away. “I was so worried about you,” he added. “But now you’re awake.”
His smile shone across the table, gratitude and happiness and guilt all sewn into it, and God help me, I didn’t want to tell him. For a moment, I considered just getting up and leaving. I could wish him luck, make my good-byes, and encourage him to get the hell out of town. I didn’t want him to know about the pack, or the murder, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to know that the wolves were committing mutiny and coming after me. The nicest thing I could have done for him would be to tell him we were over and walk out of there.
But I needed Eli to tell me more about the pack. And I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him.
I took a deep breath, knowing I was being selfish. “There are some things you need to know,” I began.
It didn’t take long to fill him in on what had happened since I’d awoken. When I got to the part about Anastasia and her goons jumping me at Will’s, Eli’s hands tightened on mine, and his lips pressed together like he was swallowing a growl. Old habits.
“I can’t believe Ana’s terrorizing you for a cure,” Eli fumed.
“I don’t know,” I said tiredly. “I’m starting to think I should just give her what she wants.”
He sat up straighter. “You can’t do that!” he barked.
I arched an eyebrow, a little annoyed. Scarlett does not respond well to being told what to do. You’d think Eli would have figured that out by now. “Why not? I mean, she wants me to cure Lydia. It’s not like she’s trying to get me to rob a bank or drown a bag of puppies.”
“Because you have no idea if you would survive it, for one thing,” he said, holding up a finger to tick off his first point. “Because if it worked and you did survive it, every werewolf and vampire in the city—and probably lots of other cities—would come gunning for you. And because if it didn’t work this time, Ana would probably just think you were lying and you’d be exactly where you are now.” He waggled his three fingers.
“That is a compelling list,” I conceded, sighing. “I know, you’re right. All I can really do is help Jesse and hope it blows over.”
He stood up suddenly, dropping my hands, and went to pace around the big open area on the floor. “This is all my fault,” he muttered.
“Don’t be stupid.”
He paused, turning to face me. “If I hadn’t eaten those cookies, you wouldn’t have—” he began.
“You can stop right there. You didn’t change Lydia, Caroline did,” I interrupted. I had a weird urge to stand up and pace too, of all things, but it would only make my leg worse, so I settled for playing with my phone, flipping it over and over in my hands. “If you hadn’t eaten the wolfberry, Lydia would be just as changed.”
He looked away. “Those three people would be alive.”
“But they’re not,” I said frankly. “They’re dead. And that’s on Olivia, not on you.”
He paced again, fingers curling into fists and out again. “I should have kept control.”
I threw up my hands. “Stop,” I ordered. Looking surprised, he did. I pointed to the chair. “Please, sit. You’re giving me vicarious leg pain.” He sat. “Sure, if it was possible for you to keep control, that would have been great,” I went on. “But you know that it wasn’t, Eli. You also know that none of this would have happened if Olivia hadn’t bumped into me on the street ten years ago. Or if she wasn’t thirsty for a kid she couldn’t have. Or if she’d never moved to LA.” He had dropped his hands and was staring at me. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “Do you want more? I could do this all day. Or, you know, we could stop trying to figure out where it all went wrong and actually look at what’s happening now.”
We sat there, staring at each other, and I had absolutely no idea what Eli was going to do—cry, scream, throw something at me. But after a moment another smile began to spread very slowly across his face. “You’re different,” he said, with quiet delight.