Page 24 of The Shadow Sanctum

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to put you to sleep… You’re both supposed to be unconscious until we arrive at dropoff.”

Dropoff?

Both?

“Hit me again. See what happens.” My tone drips with the threat, as though either of us could be convinced of it. After last night… Well. Luna is the only one with room left to fool.

Leather crunches a couple feet away. “Here… I’ve moved. I’m not going to touch you… Now relax. You need to rest all that you can.”

Fuck you, I want to say, but the SUV lurches, and my head snaps straight. I try to get a sense of the terrain, but my mind is running on dial-up. The more I try to understand, the more I process what I don’t know.

Where we are.

Where we’re going.

The turns, the minutes, the approximate miles… I know none of it.

“Try not to panic,” Luna says. “If I let you do your counting, it’d be too easy. You’re going to earn this, Sawyer. And when you do, you’ll earn the respect of my people.”

“I could give a shit about your people.”

My sluggish brain sloshes back and forth between anger and panic, and I know Luna can see it. I'm an open book to her, blindfolded, wounded and drugged while she sits there deciding how to play with me next.

I almost warned her about Angel.

“I’m sorry you’re angry,” she says, her voice even. Emotionless. Certainly lacking remorse. “I shouldn’t have called you Dreg. That was insensitive.”

If I wasn’t blindfolded, I would roll my eyes.

“Well, at least I know you left your lap dog at home.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I think maybe that’ll be it. She’ll shut up.

I’m not so lucky.

“Why do you say that?”

I scoff. “You know why.”

“He’s sitting in the seat in front of you. Driving.”

One side of my lips lifts, because again, I’ve forgotten I can’t fool her. “Does he know I fucked you last night?”

My smile falls at my own tone. Petty. Antagonizing. Worst of all, untrue.

That’s not … what last night was. And as pissed as I am about Luna’s indecisiveness on whether or not I matter…

“Kidding, of course. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Scarecrow.”

My skull rattles as we hit a succession of perfectly aimed bumps. “Massage-onistic and a liar. I expect nothing less.” His tone is no different than it was before he hit me. Fiery rage held back by steel.

“What’s that first word? Please say it again.”

Another jolt, this one flinging me forward against the driver’s seat. It’s too sudden to conceal my gasp, too sharp to hide my cringe.

“Thorne,” Luna warns.

“Nothing else to say, Mr. Hansley?” Thorne asks because I guess calling me Dreg isn’t fun for him anymore. Or it isn’t allowed. “How’s your head, by the way?”