he narrowly missed crashing into us. The shields would have kept us from colliding, but the bounce of the protective bubbles could have sent us all out of control and skidding across asphalt. I really didn’t have a choice.
Owen, see what I’m seeing.
I opened my mind to Owen and wished I could open it to Tristan, too, so that his thoughts could go straight through me to Owen. But as hard as I tried, my shield wouldn’t budge. There were too many people around, and it remained solid, protecting my own thoughts from broadcasting to everyone on the highway. So Owen followed us as best he could, trying to keep his eyes on the road and watch through my mind at the same time.
A car started moving into our lane right next to us, and I shrieked. Tristan and Owen both accelerated to avoid it. We weaved in and around vehicles, narrowly missing cars and semis. I stopped shrieking with every close call, but my breath caught each time until I simply held it indefinitely. My heart raced faster than we drove. I wanted to squeeze my eyes tightly shut and hide my face against Tristan’s back until it was over, but then Owen would lose us.
“Relax, Alexis, or you’ll block me out,” Owen said. “Trust Tristan. You’re in very capable hands. Besides, I thought you liked to go fast now.”
He was right. Since the Ang’dora had started coming on, speed had become an addiction. The speed didn’t scare me, though. The darting in and out of people’s ways did. But Owen was right in that regard, as well. Tristan reacted expertly each time. I tried to relax and trust him, and once I did, the ride became exhilarating. Still, relief washed over me when we pulled off the highway onto a deserted road.
We rode for another hour, still cloaked in case any Daemoni watched us. In fact, the closer we came to the shifters’ location, the more likely they’d be around. Tristan took us right past a guard station “manned” with three wolves—they sniffed our way, but didn’t catch our scents through Owen’s shields—and into an encampment. A few motor homes and many tents encircled a wide area that bordered Lake Okeechobee’s shore.
A rough-looking crowd milled around the open space, everyone dressed in leather and denim, their exposed skin displaying piercings and tattoos. Some whooped, hollered and even growled or laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders, as if they hadn’t seen their pack-mates in a while. Others strode around, their eyes constantly surveying and their bodies tense, as if on guard. We parked at the head of a long line of bikes, the engines still rumbling, when they all suddenly turned and stared at us. Owen had lifted the cloaks and shields.
Tristan gave my thigh a squeeze. I self-consciously swung my leg over to dismount, everyone still watching us, some of their eyes piercing us like laser beams, others full of curiosity. When he and Owen cut the engines, I didn’t think I’d ever heard such dead silence. Then they all dropped to a knee and lowered their heads. Thinking it was some kind of shifter greeting and wanting to show them respect, I began to sink down, too. Tristan grabbed my upper arm.
“They’re bowing to you,” he said under his breath.
Oh. Right. Royalty and all that crap. Since they hadn’t responded to Owen’s calls . . . and just looking at them . . . I hadn’t expected all the formalities. In fact, I thought they’d be more hostile than Blossom’s Aunt Sylvie. Instead, this big biker gang was honoring me.
“What do I do?” I whispered when no one made a move to rise. Nobody had bothered to teach me how to act in such situations. Was I supposed to say something? Give some kind of salute? Blow kisses?
“Follow me.” Tristan took my hand, and we walked toward them, his stride full of confidence. As we reached the outer edge of the crowd, a big, burly man barged out of one of the RVs.
“What the hell’s going on?” he barked. He took in the crowd, and his dark eyes followed their attention to Tristan, Owen, and me. His strides covered several yards at a time as he came toward us, a beer bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other. His black leather vest strained against his barrel chest and exposed bulging, tanned arms decorated with multiple tattoos. He went down on one knee