Maybe I stared at him too long, or maybe he sensed my own growing unease, because his eyes focused, sharpened, and the look in them wasn't the least bit sleepy. His whisper ran through me, shivered along my skin, and that shiver ran through my hand and into the vampire at my feet. I shook my head, but I took his offer. He vanished inside, only his piteous screaming coming back out to tell us he'd found another open window, another wash of sunlight.
Wicked gave me another cynical look. Because, once I would have given nearly anything to have you both like this. But Clay told us it would be alright, the redhead said, and I assumed it was Maria. In that moment I knew it wasn't my memory.
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