On Midnight Wings

Maybe that hard-working man needed to learn how to load a dishwasher or cook a three-course meal or fold up a basketful of clean laundry if he wanted his woman to remain thrilled about being his woman.

Just saying, y’know. A word to the wise—don’t be a self-entitled douchebag.

Beyond the windshield, dawn stretched fingers of rose, peach, and orange into the brightening sky, a color combination that made Annie think of raspberry sorbet and orange sherbet—a thought she quickly regretted as her stomach knotted. Nausea rolled through her in a throat-burning acid wave. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

One minute I’m devouring anything that doesn’t fucking scurry away fast enough, the next I never want to hear, see, smell, or think about food again. Ever.

“Pregnancy sucks,” Annie muttered through clenched teeth.

“Sorry to hear that, sugar. Peach?” Jack asked, offering her a juicy slice from the tip of his pocket knife.

Annie shook her head, swallowed hard, then fumbled at the window control button. Cool air smelling faintly of exhaust and wild grass wet with dew poured inside as the window hummed down.

The nausea gradually subsided and Annie breathed a little easier. She glanced at Jack. The drummer sat slouched in the passenger seat, one booted foot up on the dash, contentedly thumbing peach slices into his mouth. The aroma, sweet and sunny, did nothing to improve her mood or her nausea.

“If I puke, I plan to puke on you,” Annie announced darkly. “Repeatedly.”

“Hey, now. No need for vomiting, targeted or otherwise.”

“Says you,” Annie muttered.

“Hey, podna,” Emmett called from the back, “I’ll take more of that jerky, if you have any left.”

As Jack handed what remained of the bag of jerky back to Emmett, Annie found herself wishing Silver and Merri had left both men behind at Jack’s sister’s house when they’d dropped off Eerie along with a bag of tuna-flavored kibble, wishing that she was driving in non-food scented, blissful, silence.

They’re mortal, Annie. And Jack is a part of our family. He’s my responsibility, just like Thibodaux is Merri’s. We need to keep our family safe.

But who was keeping her sister safe? She was mortal too. And alone.

I wish you would wait . . .

I can’t.

Tension thrummed through Annie’s body, whitened her knuckles against the steering wheel. She wanted to get to Memphis as quickly as possible, find Von, grab him, then haul ass to join Heather in Baton Rouge, even though in her heart of hearts, she knew that whatever was going to happen would have happened and been long done by the time she arrived. Hell, probably before she even hit Memphis.

A quick glance at the speedometer hovering at 80 mph had Annie easing her foot just slightly off the gas pedal.

Christ! Slow down. The last thing you need is a fucking ticket.

Another thing she didn’t need was having to explain why the people in the back refused to wake up and fetch their identification. And she sure as shit didn’t want to screw up her chance to make things right.

Annie’s foot dropped down on the accelerator again, her lips compressed into a thin white line. The van surged ahead, a stallion under spurs.

PINE BLUFF, ARKANSAS

CATERINA’S HEAD WAS TURNED to one side on the pillow, eyes closed, her hair a spill of dark coffee across the white satin case. Giovanni studied her as Sleep crept into his veins, deeply troubled by her unhealthy pallor, by the shadows bruising the skin beneath her dark lashes, by the far from peaceful expression on her face.

“Keep her sedated until I awake,” Giovanni instructed. “I think the dose we gave her should keep her under until twilight, but”—he shrugged one shoulder—“she’s strong-willed.”

“Of course, signor,” Sondra murmured. A mortal friend of the Cercle de Druide, she kept a day-house, a vampire bed-and-dinner, for members traveling in the area.

Giovanni double-checked Caterina’s restraints, making sure she was safe and secure and couldn’t escape while he Slept. Finally satisfied that she wouldn’t be able to work her way free, despite her training and deadly skills, he sighed and raked a hand through his hair, leaving it in disarray.

Caterina’s mind had been tampered with, of that Giovanni had no doubt. Detecting the alterations within her unshielded mind had been easy enough.