“Enough.”
Silence fell like a curtain in the car. After a moment, she felt Jonas’s palm slide over her cheek and leaned into it greedily. “I’ll be very upset if something happens to you this close to my birthday,” she said.
“My only worry is for you, love,” he muttered, his lips grazing her mouth. “Leave the blindfold on and stay put, no matter what you hear.”
Ginny didn’t agree out loud because she didn’t want to get caught lying, thanks to a wonky pulse. So she crossed her fingers in the folds of her skirt, instead.
Jonas
Without the sound of her breath, Jonas was instantly hollow.
The fibers left functioning in his arms and neck twisted like twine around a baseball bat the farther he walked from the Impala holding Ginny. He only made it two steps before turning back around to remind himself she was safe and whole. Although, Christ, look at her through the back window. In her blindfold, she looked like a kidnapping victim.
The side of his mouth tugged. There was no way in hell she’d keep that blindfold on much longer. That reminder of her spirit gave him peace and ravaged it at the same time. He couldn’t stop himself from memorizing every facet of her personality, even though they would undoubtedly haunt him forever.
Make her safe before you become a plague on her life.
He would.
That was his mission and he needed to get his mind back on it immediately. Needed to stop pining for something he couldn’t have, like some sort of wet behind the ears human. A relationship between them could not be.
It could not be.
Of course, that reminder didn’t keep him from turning to check on her another three times before reaching the back door of the establishment. She was already growing impatient. Without seeing her hands, he knew her fingers played with the hem of her dress, picking a section of material to rub on her knee. Jonas knew because every time she performed the adorable habit, it drove him wild with the need to push aside the material and kiss the chafed skin.
Or possibly arrange her knees so they were hugging his waist and therefore she wouldn’t be able to reach them.
He was staring back at the car again. At her parted lips and windblown auburn hair, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. It was a crime to cover those guileless hazel eyes for even a second. They were the epicenter of life and spirit and hope.
Beautiful, beautiful girl.
Even from this distance, the scent of her blood loitered in the back of his throat. A thirst like any other that had planted roots so deep, they would remain long after he did what needed to be done—leave her the hell alone.
How will I ever do it?
He could barely make it across the alley to the door, let alone move to a new place where she would be out of his reach. Free to date, free to marry—
Jonas nearly ripped the door off the entrance to Haven. Since meeting Ginny, he’d wondered early and often if a certain amount of blood still ran in his veins, because the narrow passageways crisscrossing through his body had the ability to turn molten, like he’d swallowed liquefied silver. The image of a hand upon her skin that wasn’t his own unleashed a swarm of locusts in his ears, chest, stomach, the urge to kill putting the taste of rot in his mouth.
He’d worked so hard to rid himself of the violence inherent in vampires. But it seemed to come part and parcel with the rampant joy Ginny made him feel. He could vacillate between the two in the snap of a finger. Feeling so much, so hugely, was addictive. She was addictive.
And endearingly kind. Funny. Gorgeous. Dreamy. Brave, if a little sad.
Smooth. The skin of her neck was so smooth and warm.
It fluttered with a touch more insistence when she said his name.
Jonas stopped just inside the entrance of Haven and grasped at his throat, ordering his thirst for Ginny back under control.
Who was he kidding? It would never be under control. It stole through him now like a jaguar with a deer in its sights, baring down on Jonas and throttling his throat, burning his eyes and making his hands tremble.
Focus. You need to focus.
Jonas called on his determination, rolling a shoulder back and striding farther into Haven. The small tavern had been so named by Jonas because that was what this place represented. A place to convene without judgment or fear. A place to discuss resources for their kind and create support systems. The mission Jonas had designated for himself should have been the responsibility of the High Order, but they chose instead to let their population manage alone—until it came time to mete out punishment. They certainly loved that aspect of being in power, but refused to do any of the hard work it would take to avoid executing their own or even helping the Silenced find some semblance of peace.