Shock.
Fury.
Panic.
With all of my might, I shove him off, and I leap up. Free at last.
He leaps, too. He’s off the bed. Standing, backing away from me, wordless.
Anger surges inside me, and I lunge—
“Fook me!” a voice grunts beneath me as we hit the floor. My vision is foggy at first, but soon starts to clear. I stare at the figure below me. I blink several times. It’s getting clearer now.
“Shit!” I mutter, and scramble off Rhine, who I’ve got pinned beneath me on the floor of my room at the Crachan. I extend a hand. “Rhine, I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”
Rhine grabs my hand and I yank him up. The fool is grinning at me.
Grinning.
“Aye, ya did,” he says, still smiling. “But I was warned.” He rubs his jaw, his eyes locked on to mine. “’Twas worth it, I’d say.”
I’m still somewhat dazed; I glance around the room, at the window. Light gray spills from behind the drapes. It’s daylight. Late afternoon.
“You’ve been out for forty-six hours,” Rhine explains. “That’s some bloody dream you were havin’ there.”
I walk to the window and pull the drapes aside. Cars and pedestrians are moving along the street at the end of the Crachan’s entrance. I turn my head and look at Rhine.
“What are you talking about?” I say.
Rhine rubs his chin and walks to me. He ducks his head. “You dinnae remember what you just did?”
“I’m scared to ask.”
Rhine chuckles, a throaty, guy sound. “Miles warned me no’ tae wake you, but you yelled. I came in, and you were breathin’ hard, like you were angry, and trapped maybe.” He shrugs. “I shook you, called your name.” He grins now. “Next thing I know, you’ve got me on the floor. Like I said . . .” His smile widens. “’Twas worth it.”
My mind searches, scrambles to make sense.
All at once, it hits me. My dream.
I pray it was a dream.
Panic seizes me. Panic and a deep, cellular fury.
It wasn’t Eli.
I fly to the door and yank it open.
“Eh, Riley?”
I turn and look over my shoulder at Rhine, still standing at the window. His eyes lower, down my body, then back up. “No’ that I’m no’ appreciatin’ the beauty o’ it, but I’m feelin’ a bit stingy and unsharing.” He inclines his head toward me. “Dinnae ya want tae get some clothes on?”
Only now, when I glance down at myself, do I realize I’m standing in my Crachan room, with Rhine at the window, staring like a hungry wolf, in only my sports bra and boy shorts panties.
Jesus H. Christ.
I rush over to my duffel and start yanking out clothes. My mind wonders briefly who exactly pulled the other ones off me, and I quickly push the thought aside.
I’ve got new worries now. Newer and bigger.
“That is . . . simply amazin’,” Rhine says.
I look at him. He’s staring at my back. I turn to my duffel, pull out a pair of soft, old, faded jeans, complete with raggedy holes, and pull them on. “Thanks,” I answer. I’ve got other things on my mind, though, and Rhine’s appreciation of my inked dragon is not top priority. Finding a white long-sleeved tee, I yank it over my head and stuff my arms into the sleeves. Turning, I sit on the bed and start pulling on clean socks. “Where’s Noah?” I ask. Spying my boots, I grab them, yank them on, and pull the zipper on each.
“Och, he just went out,” Rhine says. “As in fell asleep. What’s wrong?” he asks.
My dream washes over me as I stand, and it almost makes me dizzy.
No way is this happening.
“Riley?” Rhine says. He’s moved closer. Concern lights his green eyes.
I shake my head and go to my weapons duffel. I pull on my leather holster and start loading my sheaths with blades. I shove one in its place at my ribs, and I look at Rhine. “That dream? It included an unwanted and unexpected intruder.” I shove the last blade in and find my jacket draped over the end of the bed. I pull it on. “I gotta fix it.”
“Whoa, lass,” Rhine says, and moves to block me at the door. “Noah made me swear that I’d watch o’er ya whilst he sleeps.” He shakes his head. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere wi’out me.”
I see the determination in Rhine’s eyes. I also know that I can render him paralyzed if I want to. But maybe it’s not a bad idea to have a backup? Might prevent me from what I’m not too sure I can’t restrain myself from doing.
Killing the fucker from my dream.
Just thinking it makes me boil inside with fury.
“How long’s Noah been out?” I ask. I’m standing in front of Rhine now.
“About an hour and a half,” he answers.
His eyes search mine curiously. I know he’s trying to figure me out. Wondering if I’m going to throw some crazy hoodoo whammy on him. It’s damn tempting, but I don’t. Instead, I give him a nod. “Come on. I can use the backup. Just you and me, though. No Ness boys this time.”
Rhine studies me hard for a second or two, then opens the door. “Aye, the two o’ us, then.” He heads out into the hallway. My eyes drift across, to Noah’s closed door. My hand is reaching for the knob now, and I open and step into his room.
Noah’s crashed on the bed, under the covers like some regular ole human, bare from the waist up. One arm is resting across his abdomen. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with breath; I still can’t grasp that sometimes. I stare at his face, so peaceful and still. Long lashes brush his flawless skin. Sun-bleached dreads hang loose around his shoulders.
He’s not waking anytime soon. Unlike what most humans believe, vampires don’t hunt all night and sleep all day. The ones I know only have a few hours of rest every few days or so. Sometimes daily, depending. Noah hasn’t rested in . . . I can’t remember when. A long time. He may sleep for hours now.
And what I have to do can’t wait.
He’ll be so pissed.
He’ll get over it.
I back out of Noah’s room and quietly close the door. In the hallway, Rhine waits. Wordlessly, we start up the corridor and hit the steps at the same time. Downstairs, the flat-screen is on. Three Ness boys sit on the sofa and chair. I pause when I see the movie they’re watching. E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial. Memories from my youth, before I turned into a wild child, crash over me. My mom sitting on the sofa in our little apartment, watching it with me.
“Great picture,” Rhine says beside me. “One o’ my favorites.”
I look at him and grin. “Cintus Suprimus.”
“Zero Charisma.” He gives me a crooked smile.
I’m impressed that Rhine, who is at least eight years younger than me, can quote one of my favorite random quotes from a favorite movie. “Let’s go.”
When we get outside, the sky is still light, with fading lavender and gray hues. I start toward the drive.
“I got a better idea,” Rhine says, and inclines his head toward the row of motorcycles parked on the side of the Crachan. “Since it’s just the two o’ us.”
“All right,” I agree, and start toward the bikes.
What is it about me and guys and bikes?
Rhine swaggers up to a black Harley, straddles the seat, and turns the key. He starts the engine and it rumbles to life. With his legs, he pushes it backward and stops where I’m standing. “Get on,” he instructs. He pulls on a helmet and pushes a pair of shades on and hands me a helmet off one of the other bikes.
I strap it on, straddle the seat behind him, find the foot pegs, and slide my arms around his waist.
He turns his head. “Where to?”
“City center,” I say without hesitation. “We’ll park and walk from there.”