He didn’t answer.

Her gaze jumped back to him. “Alerac?”

“You saw them,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “They fired wooden bullets at you.”

Bullets that he’d taken into his own body as he shielded her.

“If those bullets had hit your heart, you’d be dead.”

He’d kept her alive before. Her own kind wanted her cold in the ground. But he…

She climbed on to the bike. Wrapped her arms around him. Held him tight.

After an instant, his body seemed to relax against hers.

“There’s a helmet behind you,” he murmured, the words drifting to her over the roar of the bike. “Vamps can die if they lose their heads, so, this time, be sure you wear it.”

Oh, right. She hadn’t even realized…

Her hands pulled away from him. Fumbled. She got the helmet on. Then she started to worry. “What about you?” Jane asked.

He glanced back at her. Those eyes…her shiver seemed to start on the inside and then push its way out.

“I’m not planning to lose my head.”

Yeah, but—

The motorcycle lunged forward. Wind beat against her, and she held on to Alerac as tightly as she could.

The rest of the pack closed around them as they left the motel. The scream of the engines was soon all that she could hear. The miles passed, and the pavement vanished beneath them as the bikes moved faster and faster.

The vibration of the bike shook her whole body, beginning first in her legs, then slowly moving up. She pressed closer to Alerac as the vibration continued.

She didn’t know what to make of the werewolf.

A werewolf. The knowledge wasn’t so shocking now. How could it be? He was right. She was a vampire. Not like she could judge.

If Heath were right, and all Alerac wanted was to kill her—he could have done so plenty of times by this point.

But he hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t hurt her at all.

He’d protected her. Taken bullets for her. Killed, for her.

Told me to wear a helmet so that I’d keep my head.

They’d been lovers once. This knowledge was there. It was obvious from the looks that he gave her. Jane knew there was no denying what she’d seen in his eyes—or the way he’d touched her.

When he’d whispered Keira to her, she’d realized just how intimately they must have been involved. His voice had burned with desire and a heavy possessiveness.

Whatever Alerac truly wanted from her, Jane didn’t think it was about her death.

He might not want to kill her, but the vamps sure seemed to want her out of this world.

She wanted to know what crimes she’d committed against her own kind. Why they hunted her so fiercely.

During the six months when she’d felt abandoned because no one had come forward to claim her—well, maybe she should have been relieved. Because if the vamps had gotten to her before Alerac did, would she already be dead?

The bikes slid into another curve.

Jane frowned, trying to locate a road sign. She didn’t know if they were in Alabama, Georgia, or even still in Florida.

Her arms were wrapped around his stomach. The guy’s abs were as hard as a rock. His attention seemed totally on the road. Hell, the guy acted as if he didn’t even realize she was clinging so desperately to him.

Jane started to ease her hold.

His right hand lifted and immediately curled around her thigh.

His fingers pressed into her.

The touch heated her. No, he heated her. The awareness that she had for him wasn’t natural. She recognized that. Fear shouldn’t be so tangled with desire, but it was.

She looked at him, and she feared.

She looked at him, and she wanted.

The vibration of that bike continued, making her body too hyperaware and sensitive. Her thighs were aching. And she could all too easily imagine those strong fingers of his sliding between her legs.

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her breath was coming too hard and heavy and her—her fangs were growing.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

She rarely fed.

Her fangs shouldn’t be coming out. She’d worked hard to control them. She’d wanted to blend with the humans. Not freak them out.

But her fangs kept burning as they stretched in her mouth.

“St-stop,” she managed to push the words out.

Because something was wrong.

He didn’t slow.

“Stop!” She yelled to him. “You have to stop!” Because a hunger was building within her, one that was making her body shake.

A hunger for his blood.

She wanted to bite. To sink her fangs into him and taste the werewolf. And that was wrong. As wrong as the desire that kept stirring within her.

A desire to be taken by him—rough and wild and hard.

To be claimed by the man that she didn’t even know.

And if he didn’t let her off that motorcycle—right freaking then—she was going to give in to dark impulses and bite him.

So much for being all confident with Liam and saying that she wasn’t looking for blood. All she could think about right then was getting a drink from Alerac. Sinking her teeth into him. Tasting him.

Heath told me never to take directly from a living human. He said I’d lose control. That I’d kill.

But Alerac wasn’t human.

The motorcycle slowed. Finally. Yes! Before it had even come to a full stop, she jumped from the bike and tried to put some much needed distance between her and her companion.

“Jane!”

She stood on the side of a highway. Underneath the twisting branches of a heavy oak tree. Her right hand was over her mouth. She’d slapped it over her fangs, horrified, because they were fully extended.

He shoved down the kickstand and stalked toward her. “We can’t stop. They’re tracking us.”

Yes, true. But she couldn’t get on that bike with him. There was no way Jane could be that close to him without biting. “I need—”

A shot rang out. Even as it thundered, Jane saw Alerac lunge toward her. His body hit hers—but he hit her an instant too late. Pain spread through her upper chest.

She and Alerac slammed into the ground.

Her shirt was wet. She hurt.

Alerac’s hands were on her. “Not your heart,” he growled. Begged? “Not your heart…”

No, no, her heart was still racing frantically. The shooter had missed her heart, thanks to Alerac and his fast reflexes.