Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(34)

“I don’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than you already are,” he explained. “I took a formula to help regulate my temperature while I carry you.”

“Wait,” I said, as his wings appeared behind his back. “You’re going to fly with me all the way to Alaska?” I hadn’t fully processed the thought till now.

“I’m afraid the last train has already left the station. It’s the only way we can reach it.”

“Riley!” Lauren called. She and Angie approached me, and I felt their hands squeeze mine. “Please be careful.”

“If we hurry, she should make it,” Navan replied, and a second later, my friends’ touch left me as he lifted into the air, Ianthan by our side. My stomach dropped. I had barely murmured “Goodbye” before I felt the air rush past me as we broke through the treetops, the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on my skin.

I wanted to look down, to see how high we had flown, whether I could spot the Churnleys’ little wooden house already, but I could hardly see past a few feet—even Navan’s face, mere inches above mine, was a strain to make out.

But maybe that was a good thing. As we soared higher, I shivered, imagining just how many feet must be between us and the ground. Navan’s speed was breathtaking, and given that there were no straps securing me to him—except for his own arms and mine around his neck—my lack of sight was probably something to be thankful for.

I wanted to ask him questions, like how long he thought it was going to take us to reach his “base” in Alaska, what he even meant by “base,” and how he had one there—as well as what would happen to me if his antidote failed to work—but with each second that passed, I found myself less and less able to formulate coherent thoughts, as though my brain were disconnecting from my mind.

I didn’t lose consciousness, not completely, but I felt myself slipping into a heady, almost dreamlike state. I hadn’t swallowed a drop of alcohol my whole life, but I imagined this was close to how being intoxicated must feel—like I was floating on a lazy river, anything anxiety-inducing too slippery to hold on to. I closed my eyes as the pain in my head faded, and I felt lighter than my body, as though I might at any moment simply be blown out of it by the wind.

It was unnerving, and I tried to grab a hold of something, anything, yet my arms remained still—then I remembered they were already wrapped around Navan’s strong neck, and while I was being held in his arms like this, there was no chance of anything bad happening to me.

Then I felt my lips begin to move, my voice coming to life, though my brain couldn’t connect to what I was saying. All I was aware of was my emotions as I spoke, which began to vacillate like a pendulum. One minute, laughter was bubbling up in my throat, and the next, tears spilling from my eyes as an overwhelming anxiety gripped my chest. Somewhere in-between, a small part of me—the part that was aware of a complete stranger’s eyes watching me—felt an acute sense of embarrassment at my behavior, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t regain control of myself. That was the most terrifying thing. I had no idea if this stupor I had fallen into would ever stop. I could’ve blurted out my entire life story to him, my deepest fears and insecurities, and I wouldn’t have known it—from the myriad of emotions rolling through me, it would not have surprised me if I had.

“Riley.” His voice was soft, gentle—and yet also deep, grounding. It vibrated through his chest and rumbled into mine, tethering me to him, to the security of being pressed against him.

I was grateful that he seemed to recognize the effect his voice had on me, and he continued to say my name, every now and then, reminding me of a reality outside of my own mind. Gradually, my emotions began to feel less out of control, and I managed to focus on the firmness of his body, supporting my soft limbs like a strong bed frame. My lips closed, and I stopped babbling. I nestled my head against his collarbone as a deep exhaustion settled into my bones.

Sleep somehow swooped in, enveloping my soul and dimming my senses. I dozed, while the air continued to whip around me, and when I finally came to again, it was to the sensation of extreme cold.

I opened my eyes and realized that it was dark, except for the light of a pale moon in the night sky—and I was wearing the puffer coat Ianthan had been carrying. I could also see a little more clearly. The pain in my head and the dizziness were still there, but perhaps the rest had done my vision some good.

I gazed up at Navan. His skin had returned to its grayish hue, and his dark eyes were fixed on a small platinum compass he was holding in one hand—his other arm still wrapped tightly around me. The dials on the compass were illuminated, casting light upon the strong plains of his face. Under different circumstances, it might be a dream come true to be wrapped up in the arms of this handsome man. Well, not man, exactly, but . . .

He met my eyes as he realized I had come to, and I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. The embarrassment of earlier returned full force. I wished I could remember what I had said to him. There was a sense of understanding in the look he gave me that had not been present when we had taken off—as though, during our journey, he had gotten to know me better. I wouldn’t have necessarily minded that, if not for the fact that it was completely one-sided, and I had no idea how much better he knew me. I was as good as alone with him—hundreds of miles away from family and friends—and my life was literally in his hands. I felt I really ought to know him better, too… as well as try to gauge how much I had divulged about myself.