Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(44)

My mind wandered back to ‘lycans,’ wondering what they looked like, how they differed from the werewolves of human lore. Hopefully, they would be more amenable to talking than Navan was when I first met him.

We continued our journey in silence, falling back into our own thoughts. I felt Navan’s body becoming hotter—not too hot, thanks to his regulating formula—but enough that I started to get stuffy beneath my coat. I unzipped it to let in more air, and felt the hard lines of Navan’s chest press directly against mine. The sudden lack of layers between us made my traitor of a heart beat faster. I tried to focus on what lay ahead.

The sun continued to rise, bathing us in its warmth, and although it was impossible to truly get comfortable in this position, God knew how many feet above the ground without a safety belt, I figured this was probably the closest I was going to get.

As someone who had barely traveled across a few states in her life, I had done a lot of sightseeing in the past twenty-four hours. But in spite of the breathtaking views, I sensed myself beginning to doze off beneath the sun’s comforting rays.

Until my ears picked up on an odd noise behind us. I had grown so use to the quiet atmosphere, the only sounds being Navan’s deep breathing, and the rhythmic beating of his wings around us. But this… this was different.

“Did you hear that?” I asked, looking over his shoulder. There was nothing other than blue sky and clouds.

“What?” he asked.

Maybe I shouldn’t have expected him to hear it, given what I knew about coldbloods’ senses being impaired when they became ‘hotbloods.’

It had sounded like a grunt—loud enough to have been distinguishable to me, but fleeting enough to make me think twice and wonder if I had imagined it. I held my breath for several moments, seeing if it would return, and when it didn’t, I concluded that I had most likely imagined it.

Still, it left me with a vague sense of unease. “It’s nothing,” I muttered, not wanting to project my own paranoia on Navan, when there was literally nothing surrounding us for miles. He had enough on his plate to worry about.

But then, barely ten minutes later, I heard another noise—that I could’ve sworn was a distinct second pair of flapping wings.

“Navan,” I murmured, my eyes going wide as I gazed around us. “I… I know this sounds crazy but, I feel like someone’s following us.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know.” I looked around the empty sky again. “I’m hearing noises. A grunt, and then, something that sounded like another pair of wings. Maybe I’m just tired but…”

Navan did a sudden about turn in the air. I yelped and clutched his sweater tighter as he swooped upward, and then back around in a loop, so he could get a good look behind us without losing momentum.

“I don’t see anyone,” he said, his brow furrowing. “And invisibility is not something we coldbloods have a potion for, so it probably is your imagination.” Nonetheless, he did another loop to look around, his expression worried. “Maybe we should stop for a bit—for both of our sakes.” His head panned downward, and I realized we were approaching a dense area of buildings, nestled in a valley scattered with glistening lakes.

I nodded, glad for the suggestion. I had sensed Navan’s speed slowly faltering. He had been doing his best to keep going, but it made much more sense to stop and rest a while, then continue with renewed energy.

“I agree,” I said. “Even if we stop for an hour or two, it’ll do us some good.”

I had barely said the words when his grip tightened on me, and we dipped abruptly, soaring at breakneck speed toward the town. He was aiming for a large patch of trees. We descended, touching down in a peaceful forest. He withdrew his wings beneath his sweater, which was torn from our emergency exit earlier. Then, after he had adjusted the heavy bag on his shoulder, we walked through the trees and arrived at a quiet road.

We both looked up at the sky as we stepped out into the open. Even though my rational self knew there was nobody following us, my mind kept taunting me, making the back of my neck prickle. I needed some proper, uninterrupted sleep.

Above us was nothing but perfect blue sky and sunshine. Even so, we found ourselves sticking to the shadows, and taking a winding path through the town. We kept beneath the awnings of stalls as we trailed through a crowded marketplace. We were in Canada, based on people’s accents. We passed a clothing stand and picked up two extra outfits for both of us, using a handful of Canadian dollars Navan had in his bag. His purchase included a new sweater, which he put on immediately, given that his torn one was attracting more attention than we wanted—especially from young tourist women. I saw them staring and heard their titters as we walked past, commenting that he didn’t look like he was from around here, one of them even asking for a photo, probably assuming he was some kind of celebrity. Navan frowned at the curvy blonde who had asked, before politely declining.

I hung back a little and stole a once-over of Navan as we kept walking, allowing myself to quietly appreciate his… aesthetics from a distance, now that we weren’t in immediate mortal danger. Dang. It was hard not to feel like a lucky girl to have had him clutching me to his chest for the past several hours. If my nerves hadn’t been playing up so much on the journey, I would have appreciated it a lot more.

I quickened my pace as he looked over his shoulder, frowning and wondering why I’d hung back. We continued through the town, trying to avoid attention while looking for somewhere we could crash in safety for an hour or two. We ended up finding shelter in the form of “Cricklewood House.” It was a small, cozy-looking hotel that bordered the bustling marketplace.