Whiteout (Aurora Sky (15 page)

Killing vampires and kissing Dante with their corpses at our fe
et. Nope, didn't get more messed
up
than
that.

A smile spread across Dante's chafed lips. “We both got what we wanted. You're not the only one with cravings.”

“Yo
u're a jerk,” I replied
halfheartedly
. Never mind that I was the one skating dangerously close to the line between friendship and false hope. That was putting it mildly. I'd crashed right through
that
icy barrier the moment I allowed Dante's tongue inside
my mouth.

The glow from seconds before turned an angry shade of red over Dante's cheeks. “If caring about you makes me a jerk
,
then I guess so.”

My heart fractured at his words. Now I felt like the jerk.

Guilt aside, I had to stay firm. “This doesn't chang
e anything,” I said.

Dante folded his arms. His lips twitched. “Are you sure about that?”

At least he was smiling. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do.

He pulled out his walkie
-
talkie. “I'll radio Giselle for a
pickup
.” He jammed his thumb agains
t the talk button. “This is team leader Alpha. Site has been secured. Over.”

There was a crackle before Giselle's voice came over the speaker. “On my way.
Out
.”

I looked around the cabin. “What should we do with the bodies?” Yes, dead bodies
—
always an effe
ctive way to steer a conversation elsewhere.

“Leave them,” Dante answered.

That was a relief. I'd never appreciated the agency's cleaners more than I had after carrying bodies out of the shack where we'd encountered the first two hostiles
. Hostiles.
God, I
was beginning to sound like Dante.

I looked over at where he stood, holding his arm up and sniffing under
it
. Dante lowered it and wrinkled his nose. “It's been a rough few weeks. We could all use a hot shower and comfortable bed. I think we've earned a n
ight in a motel.”

Shower. Bed. Those two things sounded like heaven on bedsprings. A motel, on the other hand, sounded like all kinds of trouble.

“Are we talking separate rooms?” I asked.

True luxury would be a shower, bed, and
an
evening all to myself.

Da
nte's eyebrows shot up.
“What's the matter, Sky? Afraid of what might happen if we share a room?”

At the moment, my concern was with the flirtatious tone of his voice. I wasn't sure Dante was
even
aware of the way he was talking.

I ignored his taunt and
cr
ouched beside Arlo, searching his pockets until I found a thin leather wallet in his back jean
s
pocket.

“What are you doing?” Dante asked.

I straightened and nodded at the body on the floor. “Dude owes me fifty dollars.” The only thing inside the billfold
was fifteen dollars in fives. Lying sack of shit. Figured. I
pocketed
the money and tossed the wallet on the ground beside Arlo's body.
“If Giselle's willing t
o spring for rooms, I wouldn't say no to
a shower.”

Dante reattached the walkie-talkie to his
belt and smiled at me. “I know a place outside Fairbanks. It's not the Ritz, but it's clean.”

Yeah, because the last thing I wanted were bedbugs. For all I knew, the insects wouldn't bite vampires. Right. More likely they'd bite anything with blood, even t
ype AB
-
undead.

The sound of an approaching truck filled the cabin. The engine cut. A few seconds later, Giselle walked in. She glanced at the bodies before walking past Dante and me to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Dante asked.

Giselle stood on
tiptoes and began opening cupboards.

I looked at Dante and rolled my eyes. “Checking for blood,” I answered for her.

After opening all the overhead cupboards, Giselle crouched and began searching the drawers below.

“They like it f
resh,” I said, touching m
y neck and wincing.

Dante's
gaze became hooded
as his eyes followed my fingertips to my neck. I glared back.

“That's two less predators roaming the state,” Dante said. “My work here is done.”

He turned on his heel and tromped out of the cabin. I lingered
a moment, watching Giselle in case she managed to sniff out some blood, but the sag of her shoulders confirmed what I'd suspected all along
:
Arlo and Pierce sourced their blood from live victims.

I joined Dante outside. He let Tommy out of the truck. The t
wo of them traipsed into the woods, presumably to do business. Soon after, Dante jogged back to the road, whistling for Tommy as he did. The golden retriever bounded up behind him.

The forest had dimmed since we'd first walked in. Daylight was quickly fadi
ng.

Giselle
emerged
from the cabin and lifted her head to the sky. “How far is your friend's cabin? It's getting dark.”

“An hour at least,” Dante said. “We'll head over tomorrow afternoon.”

“We're
returning
to the fishing lodge?” Giselle asked.

“Negative.
Tonight we're splurging on a motel.”

Giselle's eyebrows slanted. “You mean I am. I don't see any reason to spend funds on a motel room.”

“Yeah? Have you smelled yourself lately?” Dante asked, teeth glinting when he smiled. “Come on, G. I'll write you an IO
U.”

“Help me locate Jared and consider your debt paid,” Giselle returned.

Once Tommy was in back of the truck, I hoisted myself inside. Giselle got in after me.

Dante started the truck and began humming as though turning on the ignition had also activated
his vocal cords. The humming turned into lyrics as
he
sang the chorus of “Sugar” by Maroon 5.

He
continued to sing the same
tune
. Somehow he'd managed to turn a four
-
minute song into a twenty
-
minute ballad. He was like a
track
on repeat.

Giselle stared ou
t the window, not saying a word. Who knew what she was thinking? Maybe she wasn't thinking at all. Maybe she was in sleep mode.

The sky darkened. As it did, Dante's singing voice softened until it dropped to a low hum followed by silence. He tapped the whe
el, eyes intent on the road.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Compared to the jostle and shake of the dirt road, the truck seemed to glide over the highway, the engine purring. It lulled me into a state of relaxation, and somehow, the impossible h
appened
:
I fell asleep in a moving vehicle.

 

    
     

 

Dante nudged me.

I groaned.

He nudged me again. “We're here.”

I opened my eyes slowly and blinked. The truck was no longer moving. It was parked outside a two-story blue
-gray
motel.

When I looked
to my right, I saw an empty seat.

“She's getting our room,” Dante said. “Didn't want to risk anyone recognizing us.”

I nodded. Grogginess was replaced by a flurry of nerves. Despite the allure of a shower, a mattress, and bedsheets, a motel probably wasn'
t the best place to be after making out with Dante.

I'd never age, yet I suddenly felt like life was moving too fast. Jared hit my car and my life had spun out of control… and never stopped spinning.

I wasn't supposed to be here—outside a motel in the midd
le of buttfuck nowhere, about to share a room with
drives
-
me
-
crazy
Dante. Dante
…
I
didn't even know if he
had
a last name. Dante
:
shoots first, asks questions later. Scratch that. Shoots first and eats pie after.