A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(21)

Many of his questions over the last half hour were making her feel stupid, and for some reason she felt it vital that he didn’t think that.

The questions accompanied the stockpile of news magazines he’d acquired, no doubt from “the man downstairs” who’d mapped out this journey. Emma had seen Lachlain flying through them, realizing he was reading them that quickly because he would ask her for definitions every few pages. Acronyms seemed to stump him, and though she’d nailed NASA and DEA and PDA, she came up short on MP3.

After he’d read the magazines cover to cover, he took up the car manual and the questions resumed. As if she could define “a transmission.”

Even with her limited assistance, she could feel him learning, could perceive how intelligent he was. And his questions indicated that he was deducing much, reasoning out his own answers as he soaked up knowledge in a way she’d never imagined was possible.

The rental car’s copy of French traffic rules followed the manual, but he skimmed it, then tossed it away as if unimpressed. At her look, he explained, “Some things doona change. You still put on the parking brake on a hill, horse carriage or no.”

His arrogance, his easy dismissal of things he should be awed by, rankled. A car would terrify her if she’d never been in one until she was an adult. Not Lachlain. On the road, he was too pleased with himself. Too comfortable in the leather seats, too curious about his window and air controls, flicking them on and off, up and down, and mauling the German technology with his huge paws. If he’d been locked away for so long, then shouldn’t he be discombobulated?

Shouldn’t he still be shaken? She believed nothing could shake his colossal arrogance—

Great, he’s found the control for the moon roof. Her patience was ragged. Open…close. Open…close. Open…

Every minute closer to dawn found her more tense. She’d always been so cautious before. This trip to Europe had been her first real independence and only allowed because her aunts had provided so many safeguards. Yet Emma had managed to run out of blood, get kidnapped, and be forced out into the world with no precaution against the sun other than a car trunk, heading for who knew where….

And still all this might be safer than not going with him. Something had been back at the hotel—possibly vampires.

Just after they’d gotten into the car, she’d thought about telling him that her life might be in danger. Two reasons prevented her. For one, she didn’t think she could stand it if he shrugged and gave her an “I should care about this why?” look. And secondly, she’d have to explain what she was.

The Valkyrie were enemies of the Lykae as well, and she’d be damned if she allowed herself to be used as ammunition against her family. In fact, she didn’t want Lachlain to discover anything about her to use against her. Luckily, she didn’t think she’d revealed any weaknesses in her conversation with Regin—weaknesses like her critical need for blood. She could just imagine him saying, “I could find you some blood”—he would clap and rub his hands together—“right after shower time!” Besides, she could make it the three days it would take to get to Scotland. Surely.

She closed her eyes briefly. But the hunger…She’d never been tempted to drink from another, but with no alternative in sight, even Lachlain was starting to look good. She knew exactly where she would tap that neck. She would dig her claws into his back to hold on to him for a little reverse-mainline….

“You drive well.”

She coughed, startled, wondering if he’d caught her staring and rubbing her tongue against her fang. Then she frowned at his comment. “Um, how would you know?”

“You seem confident enough. Enough to take your eyes from your path.”

Busted …“For your information, I’m not a particularly good driver.” Her friends complained of her indecisiveness and her habit of letting everyone in front of her to the point of standstill.

“If you’re no’ a particularly good driver, then what do you do well?”

She gazed down the highway for many moments, contemplating an answer. Being good at something was relative, wasn’t it? She liked to sing, but her voice couldn’t compare to the pipes on a siren. She played piano, but twelve-fingered demons schooled her. She said honestly, “I’d be lying if I said I did anything particularly well.”

“And you canna lie.”

“No, I can’t.” She hated that. Why couldn’t vampires have evolved until they could lie without pain? Humans had. Now they merely flushed and felt uncomfortable.

A few more go-rounds with the moon roof control followed. Then he drew some slips of paper from his jacket pocket. “Who is Regin? And Lucia, and N?x?”

She glanced over, her jaw dropping. “You collected my private messages from the front desk?”

“And your dry-cleaned clothing,” he replied in a bored tone. “Which sounds like an oxymoron to me.”

“Of course you did,” she said sharply. “Why wouldn’t you?” Privacy? You have none, he’d sneered. He’d eavesdropped on her speaking with Regin—as though it were his right.

“Who are they?” he demanded again. “They all order you to call except for this one message from N?x. It makes no sense.”

N?x was her befuddled aunt, the oldest of all Valkyrie—or the proto-Valkyrie, as she liked to be called. She had supermodel good looks but saw the future more clearly than she did the present. Emma could only imagine what Nucking Futs N?x had said. “Let me see it.” She snatched the missive, placing it flat against the steering wheel, then took a quick glance at the road before reading: