I woke up the following night with lingering memories of Wade carrying me into a hotel room as the sun came up. What happened? Bits and pieces of memory floated back like a chill wind. William’s death, Dominick’s threats, Julian’s inevitable arrival. Black world.

Wade had become more than a simple asset. My behavior the previous night embarrassed me beyond words. He’d taken over and protected me, dragged me out of Maggie’s house, and checked us into a hotel.

Now I was lying in a large bed. I sat up and looked around. The room had decent decor—not that I normally cared about such things—in soft blues and grays, with a cedar wardrobe closet. Someone had covered the windows with thick blankets. Wade was sleeping in a chair a few feet away from me, his head lolling back, blond hair in a mess, the Beretta in his lap. He still wore his jeans and the faded Colorado State sweatshirt.

“Wade?”

His eyes clicked open. “Yeah?”

“Where are we?”

“Kirkland, northeast of Seattle.”

“Did you hide the car?”

“Yeah.”

We’d taken a taxi to a twenty-four-hour Hertz office, and then Wade rented a Toyota Prius. I didn’t like the idea of using a credit card—in case Dom found a way to track us—but Wade assured me that his partner no longer had any form of police access. And we didn’t have a choice. I can remember not too many years ago being able to pay for almost anything in cash . . . but not anymore.

By the time he got us to the hotel, I was falling dormant and no longer cared how he paid for the room.

Now he just sat staring into empty space.

“This is a nice room,” I said.

“You like it? It’s my first hideout.”

“I should get out of here. When Julian finds us, he’ll kill you.”

“What?” His expression turned incredulous. “You’re just going to leave? After last night, after everything that’s happened, you’re going to say ‘thanks’ and take off?”

“What do you want? If you stay with me, you’ll die. If Dominick doesn’t kill you, Julian will. No matter what you’ve seen of me so far, I’m faster than you, I’m probably stronger, and I know how to disappear. I also know how to make people help me.”

“Like me?”

“You’re different, and you know it.”

“How?” He got up, grasping the gun, his voice bordering on hysteria. “How am I different? You aren’t using me?”

What was I supposed to say?

His feelings actually mattered to me. “Last night when I saw you sitting on the steps at Maggie’s, bringing you over to my side seemed like a good idea. I did use my gift a bit, but not much, and not anymore. If you help me now, it’s because you want to.”

He calmed slightly. “What are these gifts you keep talking about?”

“When we’re turned, a strong personality trait grows into a hypnotic aura, impossible for mortals to resist. Maggie’s was sexual attraction. Julian’s is fear.”

“What’s yours?”

“Helplessness. People perceive me as small and frightened. Some feel a need to hurt or take advantage. Some feel an overwhelming urge to protect.”

“And you kill them?”

“Usually the ones who fall into category A.”

His gaze fell to the carpet. “Do you need to take a shower?”

The sudden change of topic relieved me. I was glad to talk about anything else. My T-shirt was still clean but wrinkled. “Yes, but I don’t have any other clothes.”

“Me either. All my stuff is with Dominick.”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

I walked into a surprisingly large bathroom and stood under steaming water for ten full minutes. It felt good, comforting. Small bottles of hotel shampoo and conditioner sat on the tub. I washed my hair and face slowly, not thinking about reality or Maggie or William . . . or Wade. I got dressed in the same set of clothes I’d slept in.

Wade was lying quietly on the bed, watching television, when I came back out. His gun lay on the nightstand.

“You should probably order some food,” I said.

He nodded. “What about you?”

“No, I’m okay. I fed last . . . Don’t worry.”

Something new passed behind his eyes. Something unreadable. “If we get stuck hiding, and you can’t get out, could you feed on my blood without killing me?”

“What?”

“Could you?”

The thought frightened me. “Don’t talk like that. You’re my—”

“I’m your what?” he pressed, his brown eyes intense.

“Just don’t say that. How can you think it?”

Slipping inside his head for half a second before he pushed me out, a startling desire flashed through—and I’m not easily startled. He wanted me to. The thought of my mouth on his neck excited him.

“It isn’t like that,” I said. “It’s ugly and painful. Your throat wouldn’t heal completely for weeks, maybe months.”

Humiliation colored his face. He’d been casually reading everyone else’s thoughts, needs, and drives since childhood. Fair turnabout shamed him. I felt bad for causing him embarrassment.

Everybody has weird thoughts sometimes. I didn’t know what to say to make him feel better, so I crawled up onto the bed and laid my wet head on his stomach. A moment later, he reached out to stroke my hair.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

No matter how abrupt or out of place this declaration might be, it didn’t surprise me.

“No, you don’t,” I answered. “You feel close to me because we’ve shared private memories . . . because we’re caught in the same trap. You don’t even know me.”

I’m sure my blunt dismissal must have hurt him, but it was for the best. He was quiet for a long time, and then he asked, “Have you ever loved anyone besides William?”

“Edward, but not like you think. I didn’t live a mortal life long enough to learn much about human relationships.”

“What was his gift?”

“Charm. And besides Julian’s terror, it’s the strongest pull I’ve ever felt. Everyone adored Edward, like Laurence Olivier and Peter Pan rolled into one.”

“How many others are there . . . like you?”

“Only Philip and Julian as far as I know. They might have made others by now. But I don’t think so. Julian hates most other vampires.”

The word “vampires” caused him to wince. “It seems odd there are so few you know about. Did Julian turn Edward?”

“No, that’s a long story.” I paused. “Do you want to see it?”

Wade truly was unusual; the prospect of another trip down undead memory lane perked him up. “Yeah, can you start where you left off?”

Without answering, I sat up, grasped his hand, and let my focus flow back.

Back to Edward.