Hitting the main road leading south, Roke glanced toward his oddly silent companion, his heart clenching with concern at the tension that tightened her pale profile.
“Sally, are you hurt?”
Her gaze remained trained on the narrow road. “I’m tired.”
He resisted the urge to trace the pure line of her throat. He’d always possessed a perfect, ruthless control. It’d been the only way to survive as his clan collapsed around him.
But now he was on edge, his nerves raw and exposed. He wasn’t sure he could touch Sally without offering more than simple comfort.
“Then rest,” he murmured, his voice thick with a hunger that was increasingly difficult to ignore.
“No.” She shivered, waving a hand toward the windshield. “I meant I’m tired of this.”
He frowned, scanning the empty countryside.
“Perhaps you should be more specific.”
Her hand dropped, as if she were too weary to hold it up.
“The running. The hiding.” She rested her head against the side window. “The never feeling safe.”
His gut twisted. She sounded so . . . defeated.
Nothing at all like his stubborn, spit-in-the-face-of-death witch.
“Sally, we’ll figure this out,” he assured her, slowing the car to make sure he didn’t hit a bump that would bang her head against the window.
At the moment she didn’t look capable of protecting herself from the smallest hurt.
“You think so?” she whispered.
“You don’t?”
She gave a lift of one shoulder, silent for so long that Roke thought she had fallen asleep.
Then softly her words filled the small space.
“After my mother tried to kill me I swore that I would never be a victim again. That’s why I became a disciple for the Dark Lord. I was convinced I would be protected.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “You know how that turned out for me.” Roke watched the pain ripple over her delicate face and he was fairly certain that he knew only a small fraction of what it had cost her to pledge her soul to the evil bastard. “Then I stupidly turned to the vampires for help only to end up locked in the dungeons and mated to you.” Her hand shifted to rub her inner arm. The mating mark. “Of course, I couldn’t be satisfied with those major screwups. I had to go in search of my father, like I thought I could actually accomplish something.” Another of those sharp laughs. “Now look at me. I’m some sort of fey-magnet and on the run again. You were right. I am a walking disaster.”
Roke floundered.
He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy.
Hell, the thought of touchy-feely made him break out in hives.
But he couldn’t bear the wistful resignation that was pulsing through his bond with Sally.
“All those times you were alone,” he said, his voice harsh. “You’re not alone anymore.”
She kept her eyes on the road. “I feel alone.”
The words made him flinch. As if she’d hit him dead center with a sledgehammer.
He’d done that.
He wanted her to trust him, but he hadn’t been willing to offer his own trust.
Now she couldn’t turn to him for the comfort she so obviously needed.
“Sally.” She refused to glance in his direction and he bit back a curse. “Close your eyes and relax, this is going to be a long drive,” he murmured.
For once she didn’t argue. He wished she would. Instead she allowed her lashes to lower and she disappeared into her dark thoughts.
Roke gripped the sticky wheel and forced himself to concentrate on the barren landscape.
Until he had someplace where he could be certain they were safe, his number one priority was protecting his mate.
Sally abruptly wrenched open her eyes as she felt the car come to a halt.
Good lord, had she been asleep?
She’d only closed her eyes to try to block out the aggravating vampire beside her. Roke was disturbing enough when she had her barriers in place. He was overwhelming when her emotions were scraped raw.
Now she struggled to clear the fog from her mind as her door was pulled open and Roke was helping her stumble out of her seat and across the graveled lot.
“Where are we?” she demanded, her gaze taking in the roadside café.
Built of white stone with large windows, it looked like something out of a fifties sitcom. It even came complete with a blinding neon sign that she would swear could be seen from the space station.
She squinted, tilting back her head to meet Roke’s watchful gaze.
“You need to eat,” he murmured.
“And you chose a human restaurant?”
“Do witches have their own chain of restaurants?” His impassive expression was impossible to read. “Jack in the Cauldron?”
She made a sound of disbelief. “Was that a joke?”
The silver eyes shimmered with a breathtaking beauty. “I have my moments.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, vividly recalling a few of his finer moments.
His strong arms wrapped around her. The press of fangs against her neck. The agonizing pleasure of his tongue stroking her to climax.
She stumbled before stiffening her spine.
Dammit.
She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to let him get under her skin.
Not again.
“If you say so,” she muttered.
His lips twisted with rueful humor. “Has anyone told you that you’re crabby when you’re hungry?”
“I’m even crabbier when I want to kick someone in the nuts.”
“Harsh,” he murmured, something that might have been . . . satisfaction . . . on his face.
As if he was pleased by her peevish threat.
Lunatic vampire.
Accepting she would never understand the impossible man, she turned her attention to her surroundings.
“Where are we?”
“We’re near the border.”
She blinked in shock. If they were at the border, then that meant they’d been driving for hours.
“I can’t believe I slept so long.”
“You’ve been driving yourself too hard,” he said as they reached the café, his smile fading as he studied her upturned face. “Will you eat?”
Her stomach growled before her pride could deny the hunger that was clearly determined to make up for lost time.
She rolled her eyes in resignation. “Yes.”
“Good.”
Roke pushed open the glass door to the diner, his gaze searching the empty tables arranged around the linoleum floor for signs of danger.