"He got greedy," Lucas said, slipping his arms around her. "We can lay him and Dr. Keane to rest at Wolford."
She glanced back at him and smiled. "Thank you."
Holding me close, Connor whispered, "Are you going to be all right? I know the first kill is never easy."
"He would have killed us if he could have."
"Still doesn't make it easy."
"Sorry I kicked you."
"I'm not. I couldn't have held him off much longer."
I nestled my face into the curve of his shoulder. "I want to go home."
My mother hadn't yet left so Connor and I found her. The three of us hiked to her car. When Connor and I started to get in the back she said, "Hey, I'm not a chauffeur. You drive me." She tossed him the keys.
She sat in the back while I sat in the passenger seat. I think she forced that arrangement so Connor and I wouldn't be snuggling in the backseat. Mom was okay making out with a Spaniard when she was seventeen, but she didn't want her daughter doing anything of the sort.
Still, Connor held my hand, his thumb sometimes circling my palm, and I wondered what he was thinking during those moments. I still didn't know what I was going to do about us. But I was too exhausted to think clearly. I figured he was as well.
When we got to the house, Connor pulled into the drive. I tried to get out of the car, but it was like my body didn't want to work. It had grown heavy, weighted down. Or maybe it was just so incredibly tired that it could no longer send messages to my brain.
"Brittany?" Mom prodded.
"I'm fine." An easy enough lie to pull off since Connor had come around, opened the door for me, took my hand, and pulled me out.
I'd forgotten that he was raised in a traditional, well-mannered family that did things like that. I didn't know what I was thinking to fall for him. We had nothing in common.
With his arm behind me, he practically propelled me up the walk to the door. Mom opened it, then turned around and held up her hand like a traffic cop. "Five minutes."
She closed the door, leaving us on the dark porch. The light suddenly came on.
"Has she always been like that?" Connor asked.
"There's never been a guy in my life before. She's probably making up for lost chaperone time or something. She'll settle down." I had to shove out each word.
He trailed his fingers along my cheek. "Call me if you need me."
He bent his head and kissed me so gently that I almost didn't feel it. Then he opened the door and pushed me inside. "Tell your mom she owes me some rollover minutes."
I released a light laugh as he pulled the door closed. I stood there for the longest time, envisioning him walking home. He didn't live that far. How many times in high school had I detoured by his house after school hoping to catch a glimpse of him?
I might have stayed there all night if Mom hadn't come over and put her arms around me.
"Come on. I prepared you a bubble bath."
"Will you burn Monique's clothes?" I asked as she led me toward the bathroom. "I never want to see them again."
"Consider it done."
As I got undressed, I noticed that I'd collected a few more bruises. I had a couple of scrapes but nothing that would scar. The scratches I received when Mason raked his claws over my arm were another matter. They might scar.
When I sank into the hot water, I thought I'd found heaven. I didn't remember anything feeling so good—except lying against Connor. Even on a concrete floor, curled up against him was wonderful.
There was a knock on the door. "Brittany, can I come in?"
"Sure, Mom."
She handed me a glass of white wine.
"I'm not twenty-one," I reminded her.
"Sometimes, my dear, you're older than your birth certificate claims."
I took a sip. It was sweet and smooth going down my throat. It sent a warm lethargy through my veins.
Mom knelt beside the tub. "Relax now. I'm going to wash your hair."
"Mom, you haven't washed my hair since I was about six."
"I still remember how."
She poured water over my hair, added shampoo, and began to massage my scalp. I thought I might just sink below the water and sleep forever.
"So," she began. "You and Connor."
That was subtle.
"Maybe. I don't know, Mom."
"I like him."
I smiled. "You mean I got the guy thing right on the first try?"
"It happens."
"Was my dad your first?"
"Mm-huh."
"You've never seen him again?"
"In my dreams. Every night."
"Is that enough, Mom?"
"For me. But I wish more than that for you."
I wished more than that for me, too.
After my bath, my hair and skin practically squeaked. I applied some antibiotic cream to the scratches on my arm and bandaged it up. I slipped on soft cotton shorts and a tank, said good night to Mom at my bedroom door—unable to remember the last time we'd actually taken a moment to say it—then crawled into my bed. My body sank into the mattress.
I tried to close my mind but the events of the past several days were running through it like a slide show. I'd see Connor fighting the cougar, the shock on his face when he learned the truth about me, Mason holding up the syringe…
The stake. The way it had felt going through his chest—
I wanted to concentrate on the good moments: Connor kissing me, holding me, defending me…
But the uglier images kept shutting them out. My chest grew tight and I felt a building up of tears behind my eyes. I felt as though I was strangling.
I heard a knock on my window. Glancing over, I could see a shadow. I scrambled out of bed and pulled back the curtain. Connor was balanced on a tree branch. I opened the window. "What are you doing?"
He crawled in through the window. "I've slept with you so many nights that now I can't sleep without you."
"Seriously."
"I am serious." He touched my cheek. "I just thought you might need holding tonight."
Tears flooded my eyes. I shook my head. "I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry, I'm not—"
He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed. "It's all right to cry, Brit. It's been a hell of a few days."