Thankfully, the trip back is uneventful. The storm that had been threatening seemed to head in the opposite direction instead. And the only wildlife we run into are a few wolves, but a snarl from Hudson sends them on their way pretty quickly. Besides, I can fly and they can’t, and that makes everything better in my book.

At one point, we take a brief break, and I tell Hudson the Bloodletter froze him (which he was not a fan of, no surprise) and what the Bloodletter shared with me, about the coven and the mating bond and how Jaxon and I were drawn to each other. Hudson is silent through all of it, just gazing into the dark night as we quietly walk through the forest—which is better than I expected him to take it.

At least until the end, when he snarls, “Fucking bloodsucker,” and that says it all. Especially since I know it’s about a lot more than her being a vampire.

We take off again after that and head straight back.

I’m exhausted and starving by the time we make it to school and want nothing more than a hot shower, some food, and my bed. But at the same time, my mind is still racing with a million different thoughts. It’s Saturday night, so I know Macy will be out with the witches, and I don’t want to be alone. Not when I can’t stop thinking about Jaxon and Hudson and Cyrus and the Unkillable Beast.

I think about the beast a lot as Hudson walks me down the hall to my room. I promised him I’d come back and free him and I want to—I need to. I just don’t know if this Blacksmith guy, whoever he is, will actually know how to do it. Or if he’ll even want to. If the Bloodletter is right, then he’s the one who made the shackles to begin with, so why on earth would he want to help remove them?

And how evil does he have to be to have done such a thing in the first place?

I ask Hudson as much, but he just shakes his head. “I’ll never figure out why people make the choices they make,” he answers. “How they can be so indifferent to right and wrong, good and evil. Or how they can just go along with the evil when it benefits them, or because it’s too hard to fight it.”

I think of his father, of the things that Cyrus has done and all the people who still follow him. Then I think of everything Hudson did trying to stop his father—and the price he had to pay.

“There’s no easy answer, is there?” I say with a sigh.

“I’m not sure there’s an answer at all,” he tells me.

We’re standing awkwardly outside my door now, and I don’t know what to do. I can tell Hudson doesn’t, either, because his hands are in his pockets and his usually direct gaze is focused anywhere, everywhere, but on mine.

At least until my stomach growls. Loudly.

“Hungry?” he asks with a sudden grin.

“Hey, flying burns a lot of calories!” I make a face at him.

He nods toward my room. “Do you have something to eat in there?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab a granola bar—”

“You’ve already had three granola bars today.” He leans a shoulder against the wall next to my door. “Don’t you think it’s time to pump some actual nutrition into your body?”

“Yeah, well, the dining hall is closed, so what do you suggest?” I grimace. “And please don’t say a thermos of blood.”

At first, I don’t think he’s going to answer, but then he says, “I suggest that you go take a shower. You need it.”

“Are you saying I smell?” I gasp in mock outrage.

“I’m saying you’re shivering. A shower will warm you up.” Then he grabs on to my hat and pulls it down hard and fast over my eyes.

“Hey!” It only takes a second for me to pull my hat back above my eyes, but by the time I do, he’s almost at the other end of the hallway.

“Hudson—” I call but then stop myself. Because I have no idea what I want to say to him.

He must understand, because he gives me a grin and a little two-finger wave before disappearing down the stairs as I head into my room.

Sure enough, Macy isn’t around, though she has left two chocolate chip cookies on a plate by my bed. I think about just grabbing them and diving under my covers, but Hudson is right. I’m shivering. Plus my shoulders are aching—probably from flying hundreds upon hundreds of miles today in thirty-degree weather.

Using their wings for long periods of time never seems to bother Flint or Eden—the only two dragons I know well enough to ask—but it always makes me sore. Likely because my upper back muscles were never meant to support wings, let along my entire weight, for as long as they do these days.

But surely that will change, right? Just like any other muscle—the more I use them, the more acclimated to it they’ll become.

I take a quick shower, then grab a pair of pajamas and get dressed. Cookies, then an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer—what can I say, playing peacemaker to Hudson and the Bloodletter for most of the day has put me in the mood—and then bed.

I should do some schoolwork. Heck, I should do anything but lay on my bed and think about how getting me to Katmere, to Jaxon, might have gotten my parents killed. Were we nothing more than pawns on a chessboard for the Bloodletter? Or was there someone else playing games with them? I really need to figure this out, need to know who my enemies are, but I’m just too tired tonight.

Besides, if I were going to wrestle with anything, it would be how hard my heart was hammering when I learned Jaxon was never meant to be my mate—Hudson was. I’ve tried to keep Hudson firmly in a box marked “friend” because it didn’t seem fair to Jaxon to even consider him any other way. But now, it doesn’t seem fair to Hudson to think of Jaxon as anything more than an ex-boyfriend. Well, until I remind myself how badly Hudson doesn’t want to be mated to me in the first place. I swallow. Hard.

And this is why I prefer to keep my shit in a drawer, thank you very much. My heart is hammering in my chest, my stomach is one twist away from heaving, and it takes me a full five minutes to calm my breathing again.

Eventually, I make it into bed, but I’ve barely pulled the covers up with my laptop before there’s a knock on my door. I’m tempted to ignore it, but before I can decide, Hudson calls, “Come on, Grace. I know you’re in there.”

“What’s wrong—” I start as I pull open the door seconds later.

I break off when I realize he’s carrying a cafeteria tray loaded with a grilled cheese, some sliced fruit, and a Dr Pepper. “Where did you get all this?” I ask as I step back to let him in.

He gives me a look like he can’t believe I just asked that. “I made it. Obviously.” He puts the tray down on my bed, then settles himself at the end of it…like he belongs there.

Then again, when he was in my head, that and the spot near the window were his two favorite places from which to harangue me, so he probably feels like he does.

“You know how to make a grilled cheese?” I ask as I sit down on the other side of the tray. “How? Why?”

“What?” He looks offended. “You think because I’m a vampire, I don’t know how to make a sandwich?”

“Well…it does seem part of a skill set you have no need for.”

For long seconds, he doesn’t say anything, just kind of watches me out of eyes that are unfathomable. But eventually he answers, “I do have a half-human mate, you know. And she needs to eat human food. Besides,” he continues with a shrug, “YouTube is a thing.”

An awkward silence descends between us, and I honestly don’t know what to say to him. There’s so much to unpack there that I don’t have a clue where I’m supposed to start—and I’m too exhausted to try.

So, in what I’m coming to realize is typical bury-my-head fashion, I focus on the least-triggering comment. “You YouTubed how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?”

He lifts a brow. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No. I just…” I trail off, not sure what I want to say.

“Just?” he prompts.

“Thank you.” It’s not quite what I mean—at least not completely—but for now, it will do. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He leans toward me and for one bizarre second, I think he’s going to kiss me. Every alarm bell I’ve got goes off inside me, and I tense up completely—though I’m not sure if it’s from fear or desire.

I start to say something else, then kind of strangle—whether on the words or the breath that’s suddenly caught in my throat, I don’t know—as Hudson’s shoulder brushes against my arm.

Oh. My. God. He’s really going to—

But then he sinks back down to his spot on the bed…my laptop now in his hands. “Want to watch something?”

I am beyond ridiculous.

He wasn’t trying to kiss me. He was reaching for the computer. Except…except the way he’s looking at me tells me there was more to it than that. As does the fast and hard beating of my heart.

33

Netflix and

No Chill

“Sure.” I don’t think I could sleep now anyway. Plus, I don’t know, it just feels like maybe Hudson doesn’t want to be alone, either.

“Any suggestions?” he asks, brows raised like he expected me to say something more than a quick affirmative.

I shrug. “I was about to turn on Buffy.”

“Buffy?” He sounds clueless.

“The vampire slayer?” I’m shocked. I know it’s an old show, but he’s way older. How could he not have heard of it?