To Hell and Back by L.B. Gilbert
Chapter Eight
Rhys started the Rover, driving the vehicle around to the front of the house where the rough driveway connected to the dirt road leading up the mountain to his home.
The girl sat in her seat as if she were trying not to touch it with her skin. She pulled her braided hair forward, keeping her hands in her lap. Her posture was tense, but her heart had slowed to a steady rate. For a human.
“I had a bag with me,” she said after they’d wound a little higher up the mountain.
“It’s in the back.” He gestured with his thumb, opting not to take his eyes off the road.
He and his people had carved the track—that fact was obvious given the precision it had been cut with. But he was starting to realize they had made a mistake by not paving it.
The rain and the snow had degraded the surface, cutting ruts and dips deep enough to rattle his teeth. When a particular deep furrow knocked the girl into the door, he slowed down.
“My apologies. I had no idea this drive was in such poor condition. I will task one of my people with its repair immediately.”
The girl twisted, retrieving the bag she’d dropped in the alley from the backseat.
“I guess you don’t have many occasions to drive this road, given that you can fly.”
He nodded in confirmation. “That is correct. Most of us don’t use vehicles unless we have to leave our territory.”
“Oh…” She took a moment to process that. “Geographically speaking, where is that?”
“We are in Canada, the Rockies,” Rhys supplied.” The closest cities are Calgary and Edmonton, but they’re not very close at all, which is how we like it.”
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Isn’t this Columbia Basin Pack territory?”
“No. Our territory is north of theirs, although there is an area of overlap with a small Alaskan homestead under their purview. But Rafe Hawkins, the local alpha, knows better than to trespass farther than their precisely defined border.” He glanced at her. “I take it shifters make you uncomfortable?”
The girl slumped down in her seat. “I haven’t had the best of luck with them,” she said in a tired voice.
“Is your aversion restricted to wolves or does it extend to all kinds of shifters?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not too fond of big cats either.”
“Why?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“Because they make good bounty hunters.”
“I see.” That was a worrisome detail, rather casually shared. “And how do you feel about dragons?”
Her head drew back slightly. “The jury is still out. Can I ask something?”
“Go ahead.”
She gave him a fixed look. “Are you planning on handing me over to the cross coven?”
“The what?”
“The latest group after me—all wear crosses. Or they have tattoos of crosses. They’re not the only group after me, I think, but they’ve been the most relentless for the past year.”
“Catholic witches?” he asked, his nose wrinkling.
She lifted a shoulder. “So, you’re not with them?”
Rhys drew his head back. “Of course not.”
“Are you going to barter for my blood?”
“What? No.”
“Not even an ounce?”
“Not even a drop.”
“Uh-huh. And you’re not going to wait until I’m asleep to cut my hair or fingernails off to use in secret spells you conduct in the bathroom, right?”
He twisted to stare at her, incredulous. “Did someone do that?”
“More than once,” she announced with that same maddening equanimity. “Will you expect me to share a bed with you?”
Rhys almost drove the Ranger Rover off the road. When he finally found his voice, it was hoarse. “I would never presume.”
He thought he detected hints of amusement on her face, but it was difficult to say because the road was poor again and he had to pay attention to his driving.
“So, you don’t have a sex dungeon a la Christian Grey waiting for me at the end of this drive?”
It was a good thing he’d slowed down because he was in danger of driving off the road again. “I have no dungeon in my home, for sex or any other purpose.”
She sat deeper in her seat. “Well, that’s some comfort, I guess.”
There was a long silence while he tried to digest all that he’d learned about this woman in such a short time.
“It’s nice that Thomas lets you borrow his car,” she said after a beat.
“It’s not his,” Rhys clarified. “This vehicle belongs to the clan. We maintain a fleet for communal use, at least two of which are stationed at Thomas and Sanaa’s home at all times—three if we can get away with it.”
“Get away with it?”
He moved his hand. “Thomas is still irritated that we replaced his dilapidated vehicle—an ancient Jeep. But having reliable transport is important when a mate is pregnant, especially when the progeny are too small to fly properly, which they will be for the first year or so. The best they will be able to achieve is a short hover or a moderate glide.”
“Err…okay. Then, I suppose that makes sense.” She appeared to search for something to say. “So, it’s Rhys what?”
He glanced at her. “What?” he repeated.
“I’m asking if you have a last name,” she explained.
“I don’t. It’s just Rhys.”
“Like Cher or Retta?” she said.
This was a very perplexing conversation. “Are those friends of yours?” he asked with a frown.
“Never mind,” she said shaking her head. “My name is Valeria.”
“Va-le-ria,” he said, sounding it out. “It’s lovely. And the last name?”
She shrugged. “It’s not important.”
“So, you are also like your friend Cher?”
“In a way.” Valeria studied the passing scenery outside. “I change it a lot. I’m not sure what the original was anymore.”
The light dawned. “Because of the hunters.”
“Yeah.” She gave him another one of those piercing looks. “So, are you going to tell me what it is that your clan wants from me?”
Where did he begin? Somehow, he did not think telling her she was the spitting image of his true love, dead for over two centuries, was the appropriate course of action.
He settled on, “I believe it would be easier to show you. It won’t be much longer.” The trees were beginning to thin, marking the start of his personal property.
When he glanced over, she was watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. “Thomas warned me you’d beat about the bush.”
“Pardon? I’m not familiar with this expression, but I suggest you not take all Thomas’ opinions at face value. He is…”
“A grumpy bear?” she supplied.
An unfamiliar feeling that might have been humor bubbled up, but he suppressed it, choosing to nod instead. “Yes, exactly.”
“And here I thought it was all the flyovers that had annoyed him.”
“He’ll live.”
Her mouth twisted. “If you say, ‘I’ll be back,’ in an Austrian accent, I’m getting out of this SUV.”
This was shaping up to be the most confusing conversation of this life. He pulled up his drive, parking the vehicle under the eave he’d extended into a carport. “I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.”
Valeria didn’t answer. She was busy gaping at the house.
He reached out to touch her arm, a move that made her edge out of the way with abrupt suddenness. Confused and slightly stung, Rhys withdrew his hand.
“Why don’t you follow me and I’ll show you the house?” he said.
“Sure,” she murmured, clutching the bag to her chest with a tightness that betrayed her anxiety. But she followed him inside without further comment.