I know he could probably drink once we get to the Bloodletter’s, but the last time the two of them met, they didn’t get along so well. I’m not sure that she’ll offer him refreshments or that he would take them if she did. So a thermos of blood seems like the best move, unless I want to offer Hudson one of my veins.

A little shiver runs through me at the thought. I’m not sure if it’s a good shiver or a bad shiver, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t remember that night by my bed when Hudson ran an imaginary fang down the side of my throat. At the time, I was horrified, but now…now it’s a lot more intriguing than it used to be.

I’m sure it’s just the mating bond, doing what mating bonds do. But I can’t help but wonder what it would be like. It couldn’t possibly be as intense as it was with Jaxon—I can’t imagine anything being that intense—but that doesn’t mean I’m not a teeny-tiny bit curious.

A quiet knock sounds on my door just as I zip up my pack, and the distraction of it yanks me out of my wildly inappropriate thoughts about Hudson. Macy knows where I’m going, so I don’t bother to text her, and she’s finally getting some real sleep, so I’m as quiet as I can possibly be as I let myself out of my room.

Hudson’s standing in the hallway with a pack very similar to mine hanging over his shoulder—except it’s navy blue and Armani. Big surprise there. Then again, everything he’s wearing is Armani, except for the Alaska-weather-certified boots. And if Armani made them, I’m pretty sure he’d be wearing those, too.

“Something on your mind?” he asks as we start down the hall.

“No, why?”

“No reason,” he answers. “Except your cheeks are currently the same color as your coat.”

His words only make me blush harder—mostly because I’m afraid my earlier thoughts are written all over my face. It’s a good thing reading minds isn’t one of Hudson’s powers…

“I don’t— I can’t— It doesn’t—” I force myself to stop babbling, then take a deep breath and try again. “I was just…exercising. My cheeks always get red when I do.”

He gives me a strange look. “Aren’t we about to get a lot of exercise?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” I resist the urge to bang my head against the nearest wall, mostly because I figure it will only make things worse. I always knew I was a bad liar, but apparently I’m a really, really bad liar. But I’m in it now, so I might as well own it. “I just wanted to do a little warm-up, that’s all.”

“A warm-up?” he repeats, totally deadpan. “Right. Wouldn’t want you to strain anything. Like the truth, for instance?”

I’ve got nothing to say to that, so I don’t. Instead, I start down the hall, tossing over my shoulder, “Are you coming or what?”

“Aren’t we waiting for Prince Jaxon?” He looks in the direction of the tower.

“Be nice,” I admonish him as he catches up to me. “And he had other plans for the weekend, so we’re on our own.”

“Other plans?” Hudson lifts a skeptical brow. “What could possibly be more important to him than this little excursion?”

“He’s going to London—”

“Are you kidding me?” His accent is about a hundred times heavier than it was just a minute ago. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is he thinking? The bloody wanker—”

I lay a hand on his arm, wait until those furious indigo eyes meet mine. “He’s worried about what Cyrus is planning. For both of us.”

“Yeah, well, so am I, but you don’t see me running off to Cyrus’s lair like a bloody chump, do you?” He’s so annoyed that for the first time ever, he walks ahead, leaving me to do a near jog to catch up to him.

“He thinks he’s so bloody clever, thinks he’s ten steps ahead of everyone else. But he doesn’t get it. Cyrus knows he’s a threat. Son or not, he’ll bloody well kill him the second he gets the chance.” Hudson’s rummaging in his bag now, pulling out his phone.

“Of course he gets that. That’s why he went—and why he brought the entire Order with him.”

Hudson pauses with his thumbs over his phone. “He brought all of them? Mekhi? Luca? Liam? Byron and Rafael?”

“Yes, all of them.” I rest a hand on Hudson’s arm, shocked to realize he’s trembling just a little. “I’m worried for him, too, but I talked to him. He knows what he’s walking into.”

“He doesn’t have a bloody clue what he’s walking into.” Hudson’s eyes have turned to ice. “But there’s not an arsed thing I can do about it now, is there?”

Still, he fires off a couple of text messages in quick succession. I don’t expect Jaxon to answer—he’s not exactly in a good place—but, surprisingly, Hudson gets a response back right away.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“I didn’t text him.” He’s back to typing again.

“What do you mean? I thought—”

“I wanted an answer, so I texted Mekhi.” He sees the question in my eyes and nods. “You’re right. He swears he’s got Jaxon’s back—and that they know exactly what they’re doing.”

“Do you believe him?” I ask, studying his face carefully.

“I don’t not believe him.” He puts his phone away and zips up his backpack.

I take a deep breath, blow it out slowly. “I guess that will have to be enough, then.”

“It’ll be something,” he tells me, then heads down the stairs without another word.

We don’t talk again until we’re outside. “I forgot to ask. You do know where we’re going, right?”

“Jaxon sent me the coordinates. I’ve got it mapped on my phone. And an actual map.”

He grins. “Then what are we waiting for?”

“Absolutely nothing,” I shoot back, then reach deep inside myself and grab my platinum string.

23

Live and Let Fly

Hudson lets out a very un-Hudson-like whoop as I finish shifting and take to the air. And can I just say? It’s so much cooler doing this under my own power as a gargoyle, instead of being carried by Jaxon.

I shoot forward several feet, then call back to Hudson, “Hey, slowpoke. Are you coming?”

“Just giving you a head start,” he answers with a grin that is entirely too sexy for my own good. “Figured you might need it.”

“I might need it?” I shoot him a look of pure affront. As if. “Last one down the mountain loses.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, and I realize for the first time that he’s given up on the so-called head start and is keeping pace with me. He’s not fading as much as just running very, very fast. “What do they lose? Or, more specifically, what do I win?”

“Oh, really? You’re mighty confident there, Mr. Vega,” I call down to him. Then I put on a burst of speed to show him that I’m not quite the pushover he thinks I’m going to be.

But it only takes a second for him to catch up to me. “Just being honest, Miss Foster.” He grins up at me right before he jumps over a giant boulder in a single leap. “So what am I going to win?”

I laugh as I do a somersault in midair before going straight into a deep, fast dive. I don’t stop until I’m hovering a few feet in front and above him. “Loser has to do the entire ethics project on their own.”

He lifts a brow. “Not quite what I had in mind, but it’ll do.” Just to be a show-off, he leapfrogs over me. “For now.”

There’s something about the way Hudson says for now that makes my stomach flip-flop more than a little bit. But before I can try to figure out what that means, he blows me a kiss…and then takes off in full-out fade mode. The cheater.

I take off after him, flying up at an angle until I’m above the trees. And then I lay on every ounce of speed my wings can muster.

Down below, Hudson is racing through the trees, jumping over snowbanks and racing down rocky, jagged cliffs. I mostly keep pace with him, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. I know vampires are fast—I’ve seen Jaxon and Mekhi fade full-out—but Hudson is seriously fast.

Even though it’s a struggle to keep up, I love every second of it. Spring is finally coming to Alaska, and though the temperature is still in the high thirties, the landscape is coming to life all around us. And it is gorgeous.

A lot of the trees are evergreen up here, but as we near the bottom of the mountain and the top layers of snow begin to melt, shoots of green are starting to poke through. Plus, I can see for miles up here, and in places where the snow has begun to melt—where lakes are coming to life—wildflowers are springing up.

Bold and beautiful, they cover the ground in shades of pink and yellow, purple and blue. Part of me wants to stop and smell the flowers—I haven’t seen any just growing like this since I left San Diego in early November—but if I do that, I’ll lose for sure. And I don’t want to lose. Not just because I have zero interest in doing that damn ethics project alone but because the idea of losing to Hudson grates against my pride. It’s not losing to a vampire I mind, though. It’s losing to him. I haven’t spent our entire relationship trying to one-up him just to let him beat me now, in our first real competition. No freaking way. The flowers will have to wait.