Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lu drove, and Montessa sat quietly, playing with his First Kill knife, which had now become her First Kill knife, as well.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Doing okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He remembered stabbing his father, over and over and over, that primal sound he had made, the sweet, unfamiliar-now-familiar feel of flesh and bone and muscle give, give, giving under the blade.

“It was that good,” Montessa said. It wasn’t a question.

“It was. Yours?”

“I’m still processing.”

“Of course.”

He drove through most of the night without a word. His knee jiggled. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Lu was afraid he’d lost her.

They pulled over, and both crawled into the tiny, built-in bed together. He wrapped his arms around her, and she threw her leg over his, her arm over his chest.

“Just a little warmer, please?”

The room heated up immediately. She heard the currents of electricity and fire zipping through his veins. Any more heat and her