Chapter 22

Fang and I had walked to a low budget hotel, and I hadn't talked to him along the way, a few steps ahead of him. We walked up to the desk; the dude behind it was sleeping. I cleared my throat, which only made him stir. I banged my hand on the desk, which made him stand up and blink a few times.

He sighed and smiled at us. "What'll it be?"

"Just you two tonight?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between me and Fang.

"We n-n-need to borrow the p-phone," I stuttered.

"Sorry miss, the lines are down thanks to the storm," he said. No effin way. Just my luck.

"Do you at l-l-least have a c-cell?" I said. The clerk looked at Fang.

"She wants a non-smoking room," said Fang. I raised my foot and stomped on his foot. I received his hands gripping my waist, until I batted them away.

The clerk tapped a few keys at his computer. "Here we go…a nonsmoking king!"

"We'll take it," said Fang. He looked sideways at me, and the edges of his mouth tipped up. I narrowed my eyes. Then the lights overhead blinked out. After a minute or so, the clerk turned on his flashlight, grumbling about the "stupid lights".

"How would you like to pay?"

"Cash," Fang said.

The desk clerk chuckled, bobbing his head up and down. "It's a popular form of payment here." He leaned close and spoke in confidential tones. "We get a lot of folks who don't want their extracurricular activities traced, if you know what I mean."

The logical half of my brain was telling me I couldn't actually be considering spending the night at a motel with Fang.

"This is crazy," I told Fang in an undertone.

"I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you." With that he stroked my cheek once, before he turned his attention back to the clerk. I blushed furiously and looked down, ignoring my racing heart.

"How much for the flashlight?" he asked the clerk.

The clerk reached below the desk. "I've got something even better: survival -size candles," he said, placing two in front of us. Striking a match, he lit one. "They're on the house, no extra charge. Put one in the bathroom and one in the sleeping area and you'll never know the difference. I'll even throw in the matchbook. If nothing else, it'll make a good keepsake."

"Thanks," Fang said, taking my elbow and walking me down the hall. We went inside room 107 and he light up the other one, placing one on the nightstand and the other one in the bathroom. Then Fang turned around to face me.

"You need a hot shower," he murmured. I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned into me and kissed my forehead. I stepped back and went into the bathroom.

Cranking the water to full hot, I peeled out of my clothes. Then I stepped behind the shower curtain, watching my skin glow with heat.

Massaging soap into the muscles along my neck and down through my shoulders, I told myself I could handle sleeping in the same room as Fang. It wasn't the smartest or safest arrangement, but I'd personally see to it that nothing happened. Besides, what choice did I have…right?

The spontaneous reckless half of my brain laughed at me. I knew what it was thinking. Early on I'd felt drawn to Fang by a mysterious force field. Now I felt drawn to him by something entirely different.

Something with a lot of heat involved. A connection tonight was inevitable. On a scale of one to ten, that terrified me about an eight. And excited me about a nine.

I shut off the water, stepped out, and patted my skin dry. One glance at my soaked clothes was all I needed to know I had no desire to put them back on. Maybe there was a coin operated dryer nearby…one that didn't require electricity. I sighed and pulled on my camisole and panties, which had survived the worst of the rain.

"Fang?" I whispered through the door.

"Done?"

"Blow out the candle."

"Done," he whispered back through the door. His laughter, too, sounded so soft it could have been whispered.

Snuffing out the bathroom candle, I stepped out, meeting total blackness. I could hear Fang breathing directly in front of me. I didn't want to think about what he was—or wasn't— wearing, and I shook my head to fragment the picture forming in my mind. "My clothes are soaked. I don't have anything to wear."

I heard the sound of wet fabric sliding like a squeegee over his skin. "Lucky me." His shirt landed in a wet heap at our feet.

"This is really awkward," I told him.

I could feel him smiling. He stood way, way too close.

"You should shower," I said. "Right now."

"I smell that bad?"

Actually, he smelled that good. The smoke was gone, the mint stronger.

Fang disappeared inside the bathroom. He relit the candle and left the door ajar, a sliver of light stretching across the floor and up one wall.

I slid my back down the wall until I was seated on the floor, then tipped my head against the wall. In all honesty, I couldn't stay here tonight. I had to get home. It was wrong to stay here alone with Fang, vow of prudence or not. I couldn't stay here knowing Nudge was with Dylan, in danger, when I was safe.

After a moment's consideration I decided I needed to rephrase that thought. Safe was a relative term.

As long as Fang was around, I wasn't in harm's way, but that didn't mean I thought he was going to act like my guardian angel, either.

Right away, I wished I could take back the guardian angel thought. Summoning up my powers of persuasion, I banished all thoughts of angels—guardian, fallen, or otherwise—from my head. I told myself I probably was going insane. I'd probably hallucinated seeing Fang's scars.

The water stopped, and a moment later Fang strolled out wearing only his wet jeans hanging low on his waist. He left the bathroom candle lit and the door wide. Soft color glowed through the room.

One quick look and I could tell Fang clocked several hours a week running and lifting weights. A body that defined didn't come without sweat and work. Suddenly I felt a little self conscious. Not to mention soft.

"Which side of the bed do you want?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows in response.

A fox smile. "Nervous?"

"You wish," I scoffed.

"Come here," he said, pulling me to my feet and drawing me close, his hands resting on my waist. I gulped.

A mirror hung on the wall behind him, and over his shoulder I saw the upside down V scars gleaming black on his skin.

My whole body went rigid. I tried to blink the scars away, but they were there for good.

Without thinking, I slid my hands up his chest and around to his back. A fingertip brushed his right scar.

Fang tensed under my touch. I froze, the tip of my finger quivering on his scar. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't actually my finger moving, but me. All of me.

Then it happened. I was sucked into a soft, dark chute and everything went black.