Malachi is at the bottom of the pile, but he throws up a hand. “Stop.”
I freeze a few feet away. “What?”
“We’re…” He shakes his head, eyes slightly unfocused. His handsome face is haggard and drawn, cheekbones stark. “Not safe.”
What they said in the last dream comes rushing back. Somehow my father managed to get them to the brink of starvation in only a few days. In all the chaos, I hadn’t had much time to think about it. Now, the truth stares me right in the face, evidence blatant in the fact all three of them have obviously lost weight. Too much weight. More, they’re too pale, their skin stretched tight over their bones. Even Malachi’s long hair seems dull and brittle.
I don’t move, but I don’t retreat, either. “You need blood.”
“Not yours,” Rylan grinds out. He lifts his head and the gauntness of his cheeks make my stomach drop. “Need too much.”
They can’t go hunting like this. They can barely move. If they don’t trust me to touch them—or, rather, don’t trust themselves to allow me close—then I’ll have to hunt for them. The thought fills me with unease, but I’ll do anything to keep my men safe. If that means someone else has to pay the price.
Well, it’s becoming something of a trend, isn’t it?
It’s so much easier to make that call for them than it is for myself, though. I would commit unforgivable acts to keep my men with me and safe. I spent a lot of time pretending I’m not just as monstrous as my father, but in this moment, I don’t even hesitate. I take a slow step back. “Stay here.”
“Mina.”
I hold Malachi’s gaze. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
“Mina.”
I don’t give him a chance to argue. I spin on my heel and rush back into the kitchen. I had noticed a hook with keys on it by the back door. Sure enough, outside, I find a tiny garage with a truck parked there. It even has a full tank of gas. “Thanks, Azazel,” I mutter.
I don’t have much experience with driving, but I won’t let that stop me. The clock reads midnight as I tear out of the garage and kick up gravel behind me. At this time of night, there’s only one option for scoping out victims.
I need to find a bar.
39
Idon’t know what state Azazel transported us to. I couldn’t guess the name of the midsized town I drive into under pain of death. But I manage to find a pair of bars before too long. I park and study them. One is a dive bar with a faded sign that’s completely unreadable in the deepening dark, even to my dhampir eyes. The other is newer and already has a crowd of people on the patio surrounded by dangling white string lights.
That’ll do.
I glance down at myself. I didn’t pause to put myself together before leaving the house—or the motel. My jeans are faded and I’ve started to wear holes in the knees. My black T-shirt is clean, but with how tired I look, I won’t be winning any beauty contests.
How am I supposed to convince people to come with me? How am I supposed tochoose?
If Malachi doesn’t trust himself to drink from me, he must be famished. Rylan and Wolf were no better. There’s a decent chance whatever human I bring back to the house will never leave again. That I’ll be sentencing whoever I pick to death.
I grip the steering wheel and exhale slowly. I knew the cost when I came here. Waffling and feeling guilty won’t change anything. If it’s the choice between the men I love or a few strangers? I already know where I stand. It’s not moral and it’s not right, but I can’t bring myself to care. I have not come this far, allowed so much sacrifice, only to balk now.
In the end, it’s so much easier than I would have thought.
No one asks for my ID when I walk through the door. Inside is much like the outside: vaguely trendy and ultimately soulless. I could be anywhere. The tables and bar are packed, but everyone seems to be sticking to groups rather than mingling as a whole. I can work with this…I think.
I find a spot at the corner of the bar and order a beer on tap because it’s the cheapest thing on the menu. The smell makes my stomach twist, but I force myself to wrap my hands around the glass and take a deep breath. I can do this. I don’t have a choice. I just need a moment to figure out a plan.
I don’t get a chance.
Two men slide up on either side of me. Too close. I might not be human and even I know that. They’re almost touching me, their bodies angled in almost like they’re attempting to pin me between them without touching me. They both look rough around the edges, and the alcohol on their breath is even stronger than the scent wafting from the beer in front of me.
I tense. “You’re standing too close.”
“Haven’t seen you around here before, beautiful,” the one on the left says. He’s got a voice like he smokes a pack a day. He certainly reeks of tobacco.
I half turn to face him. If I were human, I would have missed the movement of his friend at my back. I never would have seen him drop a tablet into my beer. It disappears almost immediately, fizzling out as it descends to the bottom of the glass. It happenedso fast. Fast enough to make me suspect they’ve done this before.