We round a corner, and Victorian is no longer in my sight.
His voice resonates through the garage.
“You fool!” he yells. “You’ll soon see, Dupré. When you do, and the evil overtakes her and she becomes unstoppable, I will be here, waiting. Do you hear me, Riley? Whatever it takes, I will wait for you!”
We reach Phin’s black Ford F-150 in tense silence. In the distance, I hear a door slam and an engine start up. It’s not Victorian’s Jag. Phin hits the lock-release button on his key chain, and Eli opens my door. As I put my foot on the side step to climb in, he stops me.
With both hands on my face, he kisses me, long, ungentle, desperate. I breathe in his scent and return the kiss. His lukewarm lips are full, sensual as they devour mine. Then he pulls back. With startling blue eyes, he inspects me from head to toe; at my bare thigh, he lingers, lowers his hand, and grazes a large scrape.
“Must’ve gotten that at the rest area,” I say, and although his features are cast in shadow, I know he studies me with ferocious intensity.
“Let’s go home,” he says, and climbs in beside me.
Phin starts up the truck and exit the parking garage. It’s not until we hit Peachtree Street that I realize Victorian and I had made it all the way to Atlanta.
It’s close to four a.m.; traffic is nonexistent as we weave through downtown Atlanta and make our way back to Savannah. Before we hit the Interstate, Phin pulls in to a BP and fuels up. I run inside, Eli right behind me, and use the bathroom, grab some drinks and a bag of Chic-O-Stix, and settle in for the drive home.
Even with Eli’s body crowding mine in the cab of Phin’s truck, his hand protectively on my thigh, one thought pounds through my brain; one thing needles me and doesn’t let go.
Am I truly turning evil? Am I going to kill?
Will I crave blood?
Goddamn, I hope to hell not.
I’m sleepy again—why, I don’t know, but I feel like I haven’t slept in days. I close my eyes and slumber soon takes over.