She braked at a gas station. Well, gas station/casino. It was one of those weird combos that she saw only in Louisiana.

There was a small motel behind that station, and then—nothing but swamp. Twisting trees. Thick green water. And, she was sure, plenty of alligators.

“Why are we stopping here?” Dante’s voice rumbled from behind her.

She shoved down the kickstand. “Because while you might be superman, I’m not.” Not even close. “I need to rest.” Before she fell on her face. Just a few hours of sleep, then they could keep going on the road.

If they weren’t on the motorcycle, they could take turns—one driving while the other slept.

But unless she stole a vehicle . . . and that would just attract attention we don’t want . . . she needed to crash in that no-tell-motel.

“Please tell me you have some money,” Cassie muttered as she pushed away from the motorcycle. If he didn’t have money, she might just sleep right there on the ground.

“I have money.”

She could have kissed him. Except, well, she knew where the kissing would lead.

Dante glanced around the dark station and then toward the motel. “No one seems to be here.”

“Because it’s close to one a.m., and sane people are sleeping.” She took his hand and started dragging him toward the motel’s office. “Let’s go be sane, too.”

The door to the office was locked. Fabulous. Cassie lifted her fist. Banged. “Hello!” Oh, please, come answer. Please.

“Someone’s coming,” Dante said as he stiffened beside her.

Great. Perfect. She was going to crash into that bed and—

His fingers curled around her hand, stopping her banging. “Not from inside.”

Uh, what?

He turned his head and stared out at the swamp. “Someone is coming from out there.”

He stepped in front of her, putting his body between hers and whoever it was that was venturing out of the swamp.

“Put your hands up!” The roar broke the night.

Dante didn’t raise his hands.

“I said . . .”

She was pretty sure that was the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

“Put your hands up!”

Cassie poked Dante in the back. “Don’t burn him.”

Not yet. She knew Dante tended to have instincts that demanded he attack first and think later.

It wasn’t one of those instances.

Dante lifted his hands.

“Tell the woman to step around you! I want to see her!”

She started to ease around him, but Dante moved at the same time, blocking her.

“You put down that shotgun,” he snapped, “and then you can see her.”

A stark pause. “You humans?”

Dante wasn’t. She . . . Well, Cassie didn’t know where she fell on that score.

“Yes,” Dante said, his voice clear and calm.

A flashlight was shone on them. More footsteps came toward them. A lot of footsteps. And a lot more flashlights.

“Show us your fingers and your teeth!”

Wait. Fingers and teeth?

Fear twisted in her stomach. She didn’t like where this was going at all.

“He looks normal!” a new voice called out.

“Drop the shotgun,” Dante snarled.

She was afraid he was about to fire up.

“Thought you were one of ’em . . . always come up at night . . .”

That fear in her stomach was twisting into an ever bigger knot. She lifted her hand and clutched Dante’s broad shoulder. “One of what?” She was on her toes and could see that the shotgun was pointed at the ground.

“Vampire.” The man holding the shotgun—she couldn’t see much of him, just a dark shadow—said the word like it was a curse. “Only them vampires are different . . . black claws, every tooth’s a fang, and they just want to feed and feed.”

Primal vampires. “You’ve seen some of them? Here?”

“We staked five last night.”

The infection was spreading. She’d thought all of the primals in Louisiana had been stopped, but it was so easy for their virus to spread. One bite, and the human was infected.

Her gaze swept the circle of flashlights. “Were any of the people here bitten?”

“Jamison . . . he ran into the woods before we could—” The man broke off, but she knew what he’d been about to say.

Take him down.

Cassie flinched. “This is why I have to get to Mississippi,” she whispered to Dante, guilt pushing through her. She’d been tired so she’d wanted to stop and rest, but people were dying. “We can find a cure.”