Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

I couldn’t deny that money would be helpful for my education, but I wasn’t willing to accept the ties that I knew would come with it. I had worked way too hard to remove the invisible bonds they’d held over me for years to allow this. Even if they had changed and truly repented for what they’d done, it was going to take time, and a lot more than words to prove it.

Tears formed in my mother’s eyes as she realized I wasn’t going to accept it. “Why, Riley?” she asked. “Do you still hate us that much? I know we caused you so much hurt, baby girl, and we don’t expect you to forgive us, but we’ve been trying so very hard to change, to be the parents you deserve. Won’t you let us at least try to make things up to you?”

“Mom, I-I can’t.” To my horror, I realized my mask was cracking. I felt the heat of tears rising in my eyes. I’d been handling this calmly, but watching a full-grown woman break down in front of me tore emotions out of me that I’d thought I’d locked away. It made me angry at the same time, as a part of me wondered if my mother’s tears were even genuine, or just a show to manipulate me. Either way, it was working.

I stepped back and breathed in heavily, refusing to cry. I pressed a trembling finger to my temple, trying to find the right words to express why I couldn’t accept it, and why they had to stay out of my life until further notice. I’d gone over my reasoning in my head for why I behaved the way I did with them thousands of times, but it was all suddenly much more difficult to recall now, with them standing right in front of me, looking so old and unwell and remorseful. “I-I…” I stumbled, and just as I was feeling I could cry out in frustration, an unexpected weight landed on my shoulder and a warm, strong hand closed around it.

I glanced up to see that Navan had stepped right behind me, his eyes fixed on my parents.

Their gazes rose to his face, their eyes widening.

“Your daughter does not hate you, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton,” he stated matter-of-factly, and his deep, steady voice was the exact antidote my shredded nerves needed. “She’s not rejecting you either. Her decisions these days are made in complete isolation of you—without spite or malice—merely a desire to focus on her own life and growth. And she would appreciate if you accepted that. When or if she wants to resume a relationship with you, rest assured, she will come to you. I’m sure as parents that’s difficult to hear, but you have to accept that Riley has made her choice.”

I gawked at him as much as my parents did. He had voiced exactly what I’d wanted to but could not, as if he were inside my very brain.

My parents took a step back, my mother’s tears fading some as she stared at him. I could have even sworn that I saw a flicker of understanding cross her face.

Silence fell between us, as I gazed between my parents, and then Navan was saying to Jean and Roger, “It was a pleasure meeting you.” His large hand closed around mine, and the next thing I knew, he was leading me out of the house, past my parents, and through the front yard toward the gate.

I had enough time to turn around and say, “Goodbye,” before we exited through the gate and turned a corner.

“Whoa,” I said, gripping his arm and pulling him to a stop. “Navan, what was that? How did you… why…” I trailed off, speechless as I stared up at him.

“I didn’t want to be out there in the open like that for too long. It was dangerous.”

“No! I mean, where did all that come from?” And how did he know my parents’ last name, for that matter? I didn’t recall telling him.

He shrugged, a smile stretching slowly across his face. “Don’t give me the credit. I was simply repeating what you told me.”

Oh man. I should have guessed that right away. Though I highly doubted I’d been as articulate when I’d been in my state of delirium, he had still been attentive and sensitive enough to interpret my words. “What else did I tell you when I was delirious?”

“I think it’s probably safe to say you told me your life story, mostly things relating to your parents. You don’t want to be pressured into seeing them. Deep down, you love them, but you’re afraid to get close to them in case they disappoint you again. Also, you don’t know if you might turn into someone you don’t want to be.”

His gray-blue eyes felt like they were boring into my very soul as he looked down at me, filled with an empathy that made me feel so completely understood. He put into words what I was feeling so simply and eloquently that I could tell he was drawing from personal experience. Yet it felt like he almost knew me better than myself—drawing out things I hadn’t fully realized. What he’d said about me loving my parents—I hadn’t been conscious that that was how I felt about them, and it made me do a double take. Frankly, I couldn’t remember ever experiencing emotions of love toward either of them. Guilt, yes, but love? I hadn’t been aware of it, and to hear that deep truth about myself coming from Navan’s lips, it felt like he’d just left me with a better understanding of myself—even though he was, by many standards, still a stranger to me. It also made me feel better about my refusal of my parents’ gift. Because what Navan said was true. I did love them, even if that love was hidden beneath layers of other emotions, and my motive was not to hurt them. And maybe their newfound belief in God would mean they quit drinking for good—assuming they were telling the truth. If that happened, maybe, just maybe, we might be able to have some sort of relationship.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He shrugged. “No need to thank me—I didn’t say anything you didn’t already say yourself.”

“Maybe not, but you made it sound way better than I could have.”

He smiled. “Maybe I should take up poetry.”

I had already thanked him, but it didn’t feel like enough. I didn’t know what else to say, though, so I let the gratitude stay inside me, swell up in my chest. Maybe I’d find the words to better express it later.

Navan finally turned away, nodding his head toward the opposite end of the street, and set me with a serious look. “We should get going. We’ve got a lot to do before tonight.”





Chapter Eighteen





Once darkness had fallen, we left the hotel room via the window, Navan stretching his wings and flying us to the event site. We risked flying this time, because our destination was not far, and if our pursuer was related to the Fed, we would be forcing their hand very soon anyway.

We had scoped the site out after visiting Jean and Roger, and finalized logistics. Now all that remained was action.

Reaching the park, the music and smoke drifted up from the throbbing crowds, and we stuck to the treetops. We had changed back into our dark, plain clothes, which helped us avoid notice until the time was right. After trailing above a line of trees, Navan made sure the coast was clear and then dropped down through the treetops, setting me down on the grass.

His eyes were wide and alert as he glanced toward the stage, and then back at me. “Okay,” he said quietly. “You know what to do?”

I nodded, gulping. He turned to leave, but before he could fly away again, I grasped his hand. “Be careful,” I whispered.