“There was a message. For me. In blood.”
“What did it say?”
“We’re watching you. The sorcerer knew I would try scrying.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, and my head began to pound. He was watching her.
Fuck.
How could I leave her to do the ritual with the sorcerer spying on her? But how could I leave Sam to rot and do nothing?
I had to handle things one at a time.
Once she was willing, I helped Savannah to her feet. It took every ounce of restraint to keep myself from licking the blood from her cheek. “Are you sure you’re fine? Is there anything I can do?”
She forced out a weak laugh. “No, I’m not fine. But some food would go a long way. And a shower, but you can’t help with that.”
I couldn’t even manage a smile. “We’re not doing this again.”
She wiped her nose, leaving a smudge of blood on the back of her hand. “Yeah. Maybe that’s a good idea.”
37
Savannah
I shut the door to my room and slumped against it, thankful for the privacy and space to think without the wolves reading into my thoughts or watching me dry heave.
I surveyed my surroundings. The room had a light green carpet, a double bed, and a TV. Basic but clean, just like Jaxson’s—minus the new blood stains and spit on the floor.
It was so conventional, like a snapshot out of my life before the nightmare began.
My mind flooded with visions of the blood demons chasing me through the forest. The she-wolf tearing her own throat out. The poor guy in the cabin, surrounded by blood bags and needles. And Sam locked in that cold room.
I’d seriously need a therapist after all this shit.
I heard Jaxson’s truck start. Thank God. I desperately needed something to eat, because all I’d had today was a bowl of Count Chocula for breakfast—which was just as deliciously bad the second time—Sam’s chips, and the ancient tasting protein bar from Jaxson’s glove box.
Still, it had been good instinct not to eat before drinking the scrying potion. The world was still spinning slightly, my throat burned, and my legs were weak. Hopefully, the potion didn’t have any long-term side effects. My stomach tightened at the thought. I’d have to ask Uncle Pete about that.
I dragged my hand through my hair and groaned when my fingers touched a clod of moss.
God, I was so dirty.
A hot shower suddenly seemed like the antidote to most of my problems.
Thirty minutes later, I collapsed onto the bed with the bag of potato chips I’d snagged from the car. Showered, hair washed, and teeth brushed, things didn’t seem so grim.
I stared at the stuccoed ceiling as I popped a chip in my mouth. Typically, I never ate chips, but at the moment, they were the best thing I’d ever tasted.
Sam had purchased them.
They turned to ash on my tongue as guilt poured through me.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Just a second.” I pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a V-neck shirt, then ran my fingers through my damp hair and opened the door.
My breath hitched at the sight of Jaxson. He hadn’t showered yet, and the dried dirt, blood, and sweat on his thick forearms stirred an earthy desire deep within. He was all beast, powerful, rough, and sinfully sexy.