gray with a white skull as if it had been spray-painted on. He’d loved it and wore it almost every day for a year while at Gallaudet. He’d missed her so bad. And then… His world changed entirely.
“We changed your world,” Rune said. “You gave her up for us.”
“Like I had a fucking choice.”
“Need I remind you, human, you did.”
Quentin drew in a deep breath and held out the shirt to her. “No, Rune, I didn’t.”
Rune forewent a smartass comeback—for once—and said simply, “We are grateful.”
She shook out the shirt and drew in a soft breath when she recognized it. She pretended not to and started to pull it over her head.
“No,” he said, gesturing toward her tank top. “That needs to come off.”
Her beautiful eyes rounded, and she glanced around. “I can’t strip here. Someone will see me.”
Instead of remove clothes, she did the sign for stripper, and Quentin tried not to laugh. “I just got naked. Didn’t bother me.”
“Clearly, you’re used to living like a hobo.”
He felt his brows snap together. “Hobo?”
She fingerspelled it for him, then realized that wouldn’t help. “You know, like a transient. A person without a home.”
“Oh, right,” he signed. “Homeless.”
“Yes. Sorry. I didn’t mean… That was a bad joke.”
At least she was joking with him and not trying to claw his eyes out. She had every right to hate him. He reached over and tugged at the shoulder strap on her tank. “Off.”
“Fine. Here.” She took a jacket off the seat and handed it to him. Then she traded places with him, brushing past him and sinking farther into the corner between the truck and the door. “Hold that up. And turn around.”
He did as ordered. What she didn’t know, however, was that he had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view through Rune. It wasn’t quite the glaring technicolor of a human’s vision—the colors muted to shades of blues and grays—but it worked. When she lifted the tank over her head, her delicate skin covered in goose bumps, he couldn’t have looked away if he’d been paid to. She was breathtaking, every curve filled to exquisite perfection. She wore a black bra and had cleavage now. That was new. And titillating.
His pants tightened in response, and he chastised himself for being such a whore. Especially now. Because that was what Amber needed. Him ogling her like a stalker. Getting hard like a pervert.
She used some of the water and a clean towel to wipe some of the blood off her incredible skin, and he tried to block out the image. But closing his eyes didn’t help. Rune was in his head. So, he concentrated on what he would do next.
First and foremost, he needed food. Amber had been right. He did heal super-fast, again through Rune, but they both needed sustenance to do it. Soon, however, he would hardly be able to move. The soreness would set in, and he would be bedridden for days, judging by the depth of the slashes. He had to deal with this demon before it killed anyone else.
“You will have to kill it,” Rune said.
“I can get it into the compass.”
“It has seen us. It will kill you to get to us.”
“And why is that?” Quentin asked, suddenly suspicious. “Why is this demon so hellbent on getting to you?”
“Please. Every demon we come across tries to kill us once they figure out why we’re there. What makes this one so special?”
“Because it seems personal.”
“It’s not.”
Nothing about this demon made sense. Its victims were so random. Why here? Why now? And why these people? It was as though it had a purpose. Demons didn’t usually have a purpose. They set up shop and fed off anyone they could. They rarely killed without reason. They were like rattlers that way. Except rattlers didn’t feed off human souls. So, there was that.
After Amber had slipped the T-shirt over her head, Quentin turned to her and held up the jacket. The tee hung loosely over her shoulders and hips. The coat would swallow her, but she needed to stay warm. Shock was a strange and deadly thing.
“You need that more than I do,” she said, refusing his offer.
“I really don’t.”
He shook the jacket, a khaki tactical, in front of her, and she slid her arms inside with a heavy sigh. When he turned her around and pulled it tight, he tried not to laugh. The sleeves were miles too long. He rolled up the right, waiting for her delicate fingers to show themselves, then