I heard the self-castigation in his voice and flinched.
“Sorry,” I said on a sigh. “I didn’t mean that.”
He shrugged. “Do you really believe I’d be with anyone else if I could be with Reeve?”
No. I didn’t. And when I thought about it, I understood. Sometimes the loneliness probably got to be too much and anyone seemed better than no one. He had no parents. They’d dropped him off in a forest, at night, when he was just a kid, hoping the wild animals would kill and dispose of him. He just wanted to be wanted, to have someone to call his own.
Earlier, as unstable as I’d been, I might even have settled on comfort from Gavin.
The driver—Ethan—turned the car around. Bronx stiffened, gearing to pursue.
He shouldn’t do this on his own. I knew that. He could call for backup, but I also knew he wouldn’t.
I looked behind me, in the direction I needed to go. I looked back at Bronx, at the anger and frustration shining from his features. He was distracted. He would probably get into trouble.
As the car sped away, Bronx arrowed forward.
I couldn’t leave him.
With a mental push, my spirit left my body, which would remain hidden in the trees. I trailed after him, maintaining proper speed, just as Gavin and Mackenzie had taught me, keeping up without a problem.
We ghosted through other cars, and yeah, it freaked me out every time.
“Where’s Cole?” I asked, barely panting.
“Taking care of Veronica.”
I flinched as if I’d been punched.
“You really messed up, Ali,” he continued, unaware of the pain his words had caused. “Beating on one of your own is never okay.” His gaze raked over me, and he finally became aware. “He’s not with her for that. He doesn’t like her the way you think.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“To you, I think it does.” But he offered no other words of encouragement.
About ten minutes later, the car parked in the driveway of a secluded house. Ethan emerged—leanly muscled, with blond hair and a handsome face—then rushed around to open Reeve’s door.
“Thank you,” she said with a grin.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”
Bronx growled low in his throat, a feral sound. He stalked forward, as if he planned to attack the guy, but crashed into a tree and ricocheted backward. He came up sputtering.
“Blood Lines.” He looked left, right. “The guy has Blood Lines.”
So...the guy knew about the zombies. And yet he couldn’t see them. Otherwise he would have seen us. And if he’d seen us, he would have reacted.
Ethan ushered Reeve into the house. Bronx trailed close to their heels, but the door closed before he could sweep inside, and he once again ricocheted backward. He cursed.
Bronx tried to bypass the walls and windows to no avail. We paced the front yard in unison, waiting for Reeve to come out, ticking off the nearly unbearable seconds.
“I have his address,” Bronx snarled. “I’ll find out who he is. Every detail. Every girl he’s ever banged.”
Only he didn’t use the word banged.
“I’ll know every secret.”
Man. Bronx really liked Reeve, really wanted her. Her protection mattered to him. He was simply trying to respect her father’s wishes, as well as the needs of the slayers.
Watching him, I knew this was how a boy should react to the idea of being separated from his girl. The way I’d wanted Cole to react.
The way Cole hadn’t reacted.
Had he ever felt so strongly for a girl? Had it ever bothered him to walk away from one? Or was self-preservation wrapped so tightly around him it strangled any of the deeper feelings he had?
I wondered what he thought of me—if he thought of me at all.
“Ali,” Bronx snapped, and I jolted back to awareness.
“Yes?”
“Go home. I’ve got this.”
“No.”