A sliding glass door led out to a patio draped in the black night. She peered into the enormous closet, which would probably fit a desk, and then noticed the door at the back of the room. “No way.” She pushed through it, and found herself in a bathroom bigger than her room back in Sam’s house. “I have my own bathroom?”
Devon grinned, sharing her delight. “I assume that’s okay?”
Beaming like a fool, she bobbed her head. “Sorry, but this is a first. Not having to get dressed to pee in the middle of the night will be a rare treat.”
His gaze drifted over her body. A spark of male hunger flashed in his eyes and was gone again so fast that she almost thought she’d imagined it. The next second, he wore his familiar scowl. “All right, get some sleep. Tomorrow night we’ll meet with the pack and hash out a plan.” He hesitated in the doorway, as if belatedly remembering that she wasn’t in his pack. “Are you going to work tomorrow? At the college?”
She bit her lip. “I haven’t decided. I don’t know that I want to get involved in all the stuff you have going on.”
His gaze bored into her. “Roger seems to think we need you. For that reason, I hope you’ll think about it. If you’re on the fence, I’m sure he’ll approve a trial period.”
“You don’t think you need me?”
“So far you’ve done nothing but cause havoc and get in the way. Call me jaded, but I doubt that’ll change.”
“Oh yay. Devon the Dick is back. And here I thought I was seeing a whole new you…”
He smirked, something he seemed to immediately regret based on how quickly he wrestled it off his lips. “Get some sleep. See you tomorrow. If you need me, I’m right across the hall.”
He closed her door with a soft click. His rotating moods were worse than PMS.
Charity chucked off her borrowed flip-flops and stared at the bed. She wanted to dive in, headfirst, and then sink into oblivion. But those groceries weren’t going to put themselves away, and she didn’t have the money to replace the perishable items.
Devon’s door was already closed. Absolute silence greeted her in the hallway. Stagnant silence, like when it was so quiet that a person’s ears made their own white noise.
Stepping lightly, trying not to disturb the deadened sound, she tiptoed down the hall. The darkness pressed on her. Dim moonlight filtered in through the windows, speckling the ground through the leaves outside. Shadows clawed toward her feet. Pools of night lurked in the corners and under furniture. Make-believe eyes watched as she passed.
Knowing this was all her imagination but unable to chase away the flashes of memory from the nightmare house, she hurried into the vast kitchen. She grabbed her paper bag of food, wincing at what seemed like a veritable shotgun blast of noise.
Ward or not, Charity couldn’t help but wonder—did the vampires know where she was? If Roger was right, she’d destroyed their plans. Were they out to get her?
She glanced up at the kitchen window, at the dark, gnarled branches dancing in the wind, laughing at her. The shades had all been left wide open. They, whoever they were, could watch her through the bare windows. Breath coming fast, she shoved the stuff that needed to be kept cool into a mostly empty fridge, tossed everything else on the counter, and hurried back down the hall.
She stepped into her room and closed the door. After lowering the shades on those windows, she stared at the large sliding glass door.
Who didn’t put curtains on a sliding glass door?
If they came in through that door, Devon would never reach her in time. Sure, she had her own defenses, but her strange magic might fail—she didn’t even know how to use it.
Trying to catch her breath and think rationally, she saw movement. A streak across the window. Claws scrabbling on the wood porch.
Sucking in a gasp, she practically dove out of her room and into the hall. That same watchful silence greeted her, the dappled shadows down the hall threatening to suck her in. Bare windows watching her progress.
Memories from the night before flashed through her mind like a strobe light.
Panic rising, she reached for Devon’s door like a child going to her parents’ room in a thunderstorm. The handle turned, thankfully not locked. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. Then locked it.
Magical creatures could open locks.
She fast-stepped toward the mound of man on one side of the king-sized bed. He was already sleeping soundly.
How can he sleep after what happened last night?
She hesitated. Now what?
But she knew what. As awkward as it was, she needed reassurance. She needed some sort of human comfort. Maybe a few words from him would do the trick. Hopefully, because she didn’t know what else to do.