Dad cleared his throat, but when he spoke, the words still came out in a growl. "That is my daughter you are speaking to. I will thank you to watch your tone, and do not shout at her again."
That was it. I was done trying to talk with Tristan. I faced front again, my whole body shaking with an explosion of fury. And this time, the anger was all mine. My stupid eyes burned then f looded with tears, which only made me angrier. Why couldn't I be more like a guy and punch something instead of bursting into waterworks? More than ever, I wished I could turn off the mind connection between us.
I also really wished I could get away from Tristan physically right now.
Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. "Dad, pull over."
The truck slowed and eased onto the shoulder of the highway.
As soon as we stopped, I muttered, "I'll be in the trailer."
I threw open my door, lurched out, slammed it shut without looking at either of them and stalked along the weedbroken asphalt to the trailer door.
Mom and Emily were sitting at the dinette eating something that smelled truly awful. The stench of it hit my nose like a slap, causing me to stumble just inside the doorway.
But then another scent wafted over to me. Something delicious that made my stomach slowly twist into what felt like one giant knot in my gut.
The ache in my upper gums and a glance at Emily's face were the final clues I needed. Oh, of course. Emily had gotten a small cut on her cheek last night, probably from either the broken window Dad had carried her through or maybe a tree branch in the woods. Mom had clearly cleaned up the wound and dabbed some antiseptic on it. But that didn't stop my nose from still picking up the slight scent of Clann blood.
"I'm going to sleep for a while," I pushed out through clenched teeth.
I ducked into the bunk room off the living room area, fighting my instinct to slam the sliding door shut behind me. Instead, I carefully closed it then stood there for a moment as my pulse pounded. It had been a long time since I'd felt the bloodlust, and it seemed even more intense now. Probably thanks to my anger.
Thankfully the bloodlust faded and I could breathe again. I turned to face the dark room. There were three beds, two upper bunk beds and one f loor-level futon couch on the left side that could be folded down into a bed. Emily would probably need the f loor-level futon since I doubted she'd want to try to climb a ladder all the time while pregnant.
I climbed the ladder up to the bunk bed over the futon, lay down on the mattress, and jammed my hands into the pockets of my jacket, only to find my right fingers tangled up in the wires to my MP3 player's earbuds. Lord, I hated earbuds. My ears were too small and the buds hurt the inside of my ears and fell out a lot. I'd only kept them in my pocket for emergency use. The soft headphones I infinitely preferred stayed in my Charmers bag, which was probably a melted pile of nothing in the wreckage of Dad's and my burned-down home now, along with everything else I'd once owned.
The Clann had probably even destroyed my car while they were there. All I had now were the clothes on my back, my MP3 player that was going to run out of battery life any second, and these stupid earbuds that didn't even fit my ears right.
I stuck the earbuds in anyway.
The bunk room door slid open, f looding the room with light.
I squinted, found Tristan standing there and closed my eyes. I so didn't want to hear another second of the Tristan Kills Mr. Williams channel. "Go away."
"I'm sorry I yelled at you and said you were dumb." His voice seeped right past the earbuds in my ears.
I rolled toward the window to hide my wet face then turned on my MP3 player and cranked up the volume to drown out his thoughts. "I don't want to talk to you right now."
Because if I did, I would say something nasty and mean to hurt him like I was hurting.
Except he'd just lost his mother and was already hurting.
That didn't give him the right to take it out on me.
"Are you...crying?"
Now who was the idiot? "I'm a girl, Tristan. That's what some of us do when we get really ticked off."
Unlike some people who went on homicidal rages instead and killed their former best friends then screamed at their girlfriends.
"Wow." His f lat tone thanked me for that thought.
Crap. I'd forgotten that just because my music drowned out his thoughts didn't mean he couldn't still hear mine.
"I told you now's not a good time to talk." I could control what I said to him, but not what I thought. Not right now. "Let's just...get some space from each other till we both cool down. Okay?"
"I said I was sorry. Can't you just get over it?"
That set off the fury all over again. "Tristan, you might be able to turn your feelings on and off like a switch and want to make up right now. But I don't work like that! You don't get to yell at me and call me names and then decide when I should no longer be ticked off at you about it!"
"Fine." The trailer rocked as he stepped out of the room. But still the door didn't slide shut. "Your dad said to remind you that we should feed. Want me to grab you a bag from the fridge?"
I shook my head. "I'm not hungry right now. Thanks."
"Sav, you need to eat-"
That was it. I rolled over to face him, propping myself up on one elbow. "You have been turned for all of five months. Do you really want to stand there and try to tell me when I should eat?" I could feel my voice rising, but the anger was too far gone now to offer any hope of controlling my tone. Thankfully Mom hadn't had a chance to put a pillow on this bed or I might have been tempted to throw it at him.
His mouth opened. Then he snapped it shut and slid the door closed.
I f lopped back on the mattress, closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my cramping stomach.
In the kitchen, the refrigerator door popped open, slammed shut, followed by the creak and slam of the trailer door. Outside the trailer, a truck door snicked open then slammed shut, and a second later the trailer rocked as Dad drove us back onto the highway.
CHAPTER 13
I fell asleep, waking sometime around sunrise judging by the hint of light beyond the bunk bed's window, which was covered with pleated shades I didn't bother to pull up. My stomach was still cramping. Dad was right. I did need to eat or else risk feeling the bloodlust again.
So I forced myself to climb down the ladder, where I discovered Emily asleep on the futon couch. I noticed she'd opened the window by her bed. To help me ward off the bloodlust, or because she liked fresh air while she slept?