Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(47)

Navan didn’t speak again after that, and neither did I. After twenty minutes, I sensed that he had finally let sleep claim him, but I couldn’t sleep, not after that. So instead I watched him, trying to unpack everything he had said, everything new I had just learned about this troubled and haunted man.





Chapter Sixteen





I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, but after Navan had been out of it for over an hour and a half, his calm, steady breathing must have seduced me into my own slumber. I woke up to the sensation of something hard and warm beneath my cheek, and as consciousness slowly trickled back to me, I realized with a start that I was partially lying on Navan. My head was on his chest, and I had one arm slung over his waist, my legs trying to intertwine themselves with his.

I jerked backward, and then realized why I had woken up in the first place. Navan was saying my name.

The blood rushed to my cheeks, and I crawled back so fast I almost fell off the bed. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, mortified.

He was frowning slightly, his blue-gray eyes glimmering with mild amusement at my reaction. “Gee. I didn’t realize I was that horrifying.”

I blushed. “No! It’s not—I mean . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” A smile played at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you must’ve gravitated toward my warmth in your sleep.”

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, and as our last conversation came back to me, I was glad that I had managed to bring out a smile in him, even if it was at my expense.

I gazed around the room, still feeling rather disorientated, as I realized how low the sun had dipped in the sky. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my forehead.

He pointed toward the clock on the mantelpiece. “7 PM, which is why I woke you. I overslept too—woke up only a minute or two before you.”

“Oh man.” I swept my feet off the bed and stood up, running my hands through my clean hair. “We should get going then.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll, uh, use the bathroom real quick.”

I stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning my head against it and giving myself a few moments to calm my pounding heart. I washed my face with cold water and lathered another generous layer of cream onto my face and hands, before brushing my teeth, using one of the complimentary toothbrushes.

After I emerged, Navan took his turn, and he locked himself in the bathroom. As I heard the shower being turned on, I tried to imagine what the bathrooms were like in Vysanthe—whether they were similar, or something entirely different. For that matter, I wondered what civilization in Vysanthe looked like in general. The whole concept of other highly developed civilizations out there in the universe was still sinking in.

I made sure we had all our things together, and then ate another couple of bananas. We were about to make the last leg of the journey to New York, and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I ate again. When we arrived, I supposed we would find another hotel to check into or maybe go straight to an internet café so we could start planning our stunt. God. It still hadn’t quite sunk in what I had gotten myself into. If all went according to plan, I was going to be coming face to face with yet another supernatural species—lycans.

Navan reemerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, wearing a fresh set of clothes, his black hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes damp.

“Ready?” he asked, sweeping his eyes about the room.

“Yes. If you are.”

I put on my coat and Navan grabbed the bag. Together, we checked out of the hotel, and headed back to the same forest we had landed in, figuring that was a good place to take off inconspicuously.

When it came time for me to wrap myself around Navan again, I blushed in a way I hadn’t done before, recalling the bed incident, even though it was silly since I had been squeezed up close to him for possibly over ten hours across all our travels. Still, the context of a bedroom had made things feel… different.

He glanced at his compass, consulting his map again, and then we took off. I braced myself for the harsh wind as we broke through the treetops, and Navan zoomed forward at what felt like three times the speed of his former pace. Clearly, the rest had done him good. And though it made for a much more uncomfortable ride, as my stomach was constantly clenching and my eyes watered as I tried to breathe, it was a needed change—we had lost time to make up for.



It took even less time than I had anticipated for the bright lights of NYC to come into view—a little over an hour. Navan’s skin was already resuming its gray hue as he slowed down. We approached the high-rise buildings, and I felt a slight ache in my chest on seeing home. It made me wonder where Jean and Roger were, what they were doing in this moment. At least they were blissfully oblivious to what I was doing. If they knew, they’d have a heart attack.

Like I almost did, as a heavy object hurtled past my right ear. A second later, a window in a nearby building shattered. Whatever that was, it had come within inches of my head.

“What was that?!” I gasped.

Another whoosh came from my left, shattering a second window. An alarm went off, followed by loud voices coming from the building, and I could have sworn someone said the word “knife.” Navan dropped into a freefall, zooming down the length of the building, even as strange objects—knives?—continued to fly past us.