Tucker dropped a hand to his lap and adjusted the erection that wouldn’t quit.
Every time he managed to soften enough to be comfortable, he’d remember Mary’s slippery flesh, how she’d ridden his fingers, her tongue drawing in and out of his mouth, the weight of her tits in his hands. And yeah, it was back to boner city on the express bus.
His time with Mary was on the same express route, too, now.
A week hadn’t been enough time, let alone four days.
A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.
His eyes burned like they were rimmed in hot coal. There was nothing he could do to stall. Not without ruining Mary’s chance for happiness. Not without disregarding her wishes. What she wanted. What she’d chosen. The fact that he wanted to whip the car into a U-turn and find a cave to hide her in didn’t matter. He was there to drive. He was not one of the choices, so he needed to be happy for the gift of her time he’d been allowed, short as it might be.
Tucker signaled and took a hard right turn, putting the Impala on the back road that would bring them to the safe house. Almost there. Would she talk to him again once wind wasn’t roaring in through the broken windows? Or was she going to stay upset? The latter possibility caused him so much distress in his midsection, he fought the need to howl.
He was doing the right thing by lying to her, wasn’t he?
Yes. Mary couldn’t know the Tucker strongly suspected she was his mate. And he definitely couldn’t tell Mary that drinking her blood was the only way to know for sure.
If she allowed him to test his theory, to slide his fangs into her delicate neck and partake, no other blood would appease or sustain him ever again. Death would come for him within weeks without her blood. What if she found out and altered her plans because of it? That, in itself, would be a longshot when she had so much to gain elsewhere. Her sight. He wouldn’t take the chance with something so monumental. If Mary was forced to make sacrifices on his behalf, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
Although it was slowly dawning on Tucker that as soon as he left Mary with Hadrian…
He would very likely welcome death anyway.
Whether he’d drunk from her or not.
Which he wouldn’t.
Her scent mocked him from the other side of the car. With a clenched jaw, he renewed his determination to keeps his hands—and fangs—to himself.
That didn’t mean that he could stand the silent treatment for much longer.
To think she might be mad at him was agony, further proof she was his fated one. He’d watched his roommates turn from derisive assholes to exposed nerves over their mates. Right up until he met Ginny, Jonas was known in the underworld as unflappable. One walk on the boardwalk with the mortician and his world was suddenly unrecognizable. Nothing had mattered but Ginny’s safety. Tucker could finally relate to that.
Furthermore, he could now relate to Elias’s plight—his friend’s fated one was a slayer. Tucker shivered to think what it would be like to stand on one side of battle lines and have your mate standing on the other.
It wouldn’t be too long until he knew exactly what it was like.
A dead end came into view up ahead, the road split in half by a No Trespassing sign. He pulled up as close to the sign as possible and put the car in park. “I’ll be right back. The road is blocked off, but that’s only because Jonas is thorough and wants to keep outsiders away. I have to move the barrier out of the way before we can pass through.”
Mary started a little, her fingers flinching in her lap, but she nodded.
Ready to saw off an arm just to hear her voice, Tucker forced himself out of the vehicle. He left the car running and pulled the No Trespassing sign out of the ground, setting it aside, drove the car through. Then he got back out, and secured the sign once more.
A few minutes of driving later, a yellow cottage came into view. From the outside, it looked like it hadn’t been occupied in some time. Vines grew over the boarded-up windows, weeds peeked up through the brick walkway, an old tire lay on its side in the yard.
Tucker cut the engine and sat a moment with his wrist draped over the steering wheel, trying to think of something clever to say. Coming up with bullshit was his greatest asset, but it had deserted him when he needed it most. “If there are bunk beds in the safe house, I call top.”
When her lips tugged at the corner, the concrete in his chest loosened slightly. “That’s fine with me. I just want a bath.” A bath. Water and soap making her slippery. Warm. “What does the safe house look like?”