She placed the sandwich in the fridge and took a bottle of water before retreating to the bed. The idea of sleeping in this bed with him caused her heart to race, but the small armchair in the corner didn’t look inviting, and she was not in the mood for the floor.
It hadn’t been long since she last slept in a bed, but it felt like forever, and she couldn’t lose the opportunity. Unfortunately, that meant sleeping beside him all night again when she’d prefer to get as far away as possible.
She set the water on the nightstand and focused on the TV, but she didn’t see what was happening. Instead, all she kept seeing was Lucien’s arms around that woman as she released that sound again.
She longed to clap her hands over her ears to block it out, but that woman’s moan was ingrained in her mind. What would have happened if she wasn’t there?
She could well imagine, and she didn’t want to as it only made her more jealous, and she despised the feeling. She didn’t care what he did or with who; all she cared about was surviving.
Ten minutes later, the water shut off, and she listened as he moved around the bathroom. Her throat went dry as she pictured him in there, naked. Excitement raced through her veins, but when she recalled him feeding on the desk clerk, all her excitement vanished.
Something clattered, and the sink water turned on. She glanced at the red numbers on the clock. It was almost midnight, and it was another ten minutes before the door opened.
Even as she commanded herself not to look at him, her eyes darted in his direction, and her breath sucked in. Her fingers twisted in the bedspread as a million thoughts raced through her head; most of them were X-rated.
It was as if an entirely different man stepped out of that bathroom. And in a way, she supposed he was. The man she first encountered desperately needed blood.
This man had recently fed, was no longer covered in grime, had already put on weight, and no longer sported a beard over the bottom half of his gorgeous face. She’d seen plenty of good-looking men in person, on movie screens, and in the pages of magazines, but none of them compared to the Adonis standing across from her.
It was unfair. All she wanted was to distance herself from him, and there he was, a walking, talking, sex-on-a-stick temptation that had her nearly drooling. The more she tried to tear her eyes away, the more they remained riveted on his square jaw, entirely too kissable lips, broad chest, and abs she could bounce a quarter off.
No, it was entirely unfair that he looked so good when he was the worst road she could ever travel. It was bad enough she was entangled in this mess; she couldn’t make matters worse by getting involved with this vamp.
With that reminder firmly in mind, she shifted her attention back to the TV as a commercial came on. Lucien padded toward the bed and sat on the other side of it. He stared at the phone on the nightstand while Callie remained unmoving on the other side of the bed.
Now that they were somewhere safe, there was no reason for him not to call Ronan, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He hadn’t become a Savage, but he’d been close, and if he’d grabbed one of those other women first, he would have killed them.
He was thinking a lot clearer now that he’d showered and jerked off. He would have preferred to be inside her, but at least he’d found some release from the pressure in his shaft.
With that release, and the influx of fresh blood from the motel clerk, he could think better. And as he scrubbed himself, he contemplated his intense attraction to her and his overwhelming drive to keep her safe. As he did, a possibility niggled at his brain.
Was she his mate?
At first, he tried to deny it. He didn’t know how the others felt before they found their mates, but it was the last thing he wanted in his life. He was a killer; he thrived on the thrill of the battle and crushing out another’s life.
Killing was what kept him stable and alive. He couldn’t have a mate interfering in his simple, ordered life; it was how he survived. It had taken him a long time to stabilize himself and feel fairly confident he wouldn’t become a Savage; he achieved it by hunting and killing Savages regularly.
He didn’t want anything to interfere with that, not even a mate. And he certainly couldn’t have his life entwined with another’s. Actually, he didn’t want her life intertwined with his.
His life was brutal; he’d lived this long because he was good at killing, but it was only a matter of time before he lost again. He liked to think he was invincible, but he’d been captured and was only free because of his determination to save her.
However, even if his compulsion to keep her safe guided him through the rest of his days, the odds were good he would one day lose another battle and end up dead or imprisoned again. If Callie was his mate, and he turned her, she would die when he did.
The possibility of her death almost caused him to batter the shower wall, but he managed to keep himself restrained. Beating up the shower would only scare her and drive her further away.
The realization he might have found his mate rattled him. He kept thinking up reasons to deny it, but it was the only thing that made sense. He’d been out of his mind in that pit, but the second he experienced her pain, he put her needs first.
He’d been weak, yet he found the strength to evade the Savages pursuing them. He’d been starved and crazed, but he restrained himself from feeding on her as much as he could have.
There was only one explanation for what propelled him beyond what should have been his capabilities in those tunnels, and that was his need to protect his mate. Shit.
He almost turned to look at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. If she was his mate—and he believed she was—he was condemning her to a brutal life, and that was only if she agreed to it. She could walk away, and he would let her because he couldn’t bring himself to make her unhappy. And if she walked away, his life was over.
He released a long breath through his clamped teeth and dug his fingers into his thighs as he stared at the phone. He had to call; it was the only thing that would keep her safe, but for the first time in his life, he dreaded talking to Ronan.
He’d nearly given in and become one of their enemies. How could he look at Ronan and the others while knowing this about himself?
However, he’d never been a coward, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lucien lifted the phone from the receiver and punched in the last number he had for Ronan. Instead of a ringing phone, he was greeted with a recorded message saying they didn’t allow long-distance calls.
Shit. He hadn’t considered that. Shit!
Rising from the bed, he walked over to the door and opened it. He stepped onto the sidewalk and searched up and down the row of rooms. No lights were on; he could walk next door, knock on the door, and wake someone up to use their cell, but he couldn’t leave Callie alone to do it.
He detected no hint of Savages anywhere nearby, but he wasn’t taking the chance. In the morning, he would confiscate a cell phone from one of his neighbors and make the call. It was safer to leave her alone in the daytime.
Retreating to their room, he closed the door and turned to find her studying him. She looked away before rising and pulling back the blankets. Callie felt his eyes boring into her as she slid onto the bed.
Her body melted into the soft mattress, and she tugged the blankets up to her chin. With her adrenaline gone and the effects of the warm shower wearing off, she was becoming acutely aware of her sore, knotted muscles.