Page 82 of Sight of Fate

Teague takes a deep breath. “The lengths he went to…killing your mom and Cara. If he slips through the cracks, we’ll find him. Promise me you won’t run.”

He knows it’s what I’ve always done. Even after I moved into the apartment, I kept enough stuff in my car to run. Moving in here was a huge step. But this…this is the ultimate leap of faith, trusting them enough to stop running.

Swallowing hard, I swing my gaze from Teague to Macklin. “Forever, right?”

“Forever,” Macklin agrees huskily.

“I need to hear the words,” Teague demands.

“I won’t run,” I promise them both.

Teague presses his forehead to mine. “Thank you. Let’s go see Andros.”

Andros is dressed in a light grey sweater with a black button-down underneath and black pants. Surprisingly casual for him. He lifts a gloved hand to glance at his watch when we walk in. “You’re late.”

Macklin raises a cool eyebrow, and Andros expels a long breath. “Sorry. I’m tired of being pricked and prodded.” He sweeps the length of me. “And I haven’t had anything but bagged blood in two days. I need fresh blood.”

I stiffen.

Macklin narrows his eyes. “Watch it.”

Andros flicks a glance between the three of us, and his mouth twists. “Ah, I see. Congrats.” He locks eyes with me, and I hold my breath, wondering what snide remark is going to come out of his mouth, but thankfully, he’s interrupted.

MacKenzie breezes in with a small bottle and a needle. “One more shot, then you can check out. Did you decide who was going to stay with you?”

“I’ll be fine on my own,” Andros says, a tinge of anger in his voice.

“How long does he need someone with him?” Teague asks, ignoring Andros’ protest.

“Just until Monday. It’s mainly to make sure he doesn’t have a reaction,” she replies with a cheerful smile. “Then you can leave Sir Surly to rot on his own.”

I laugh. Sir Surly fits him. The arrogant asshole is way past grumpy.

“Does he have to rest the whole time?” Macklin asks.

“Nope,” she says, turning toward Andros. “I expect you to see me in two weeks for a follow up. Do not make me chase you down.”

Andros heaves an exaggerated sigh but dips his head in agreement.

MacKenzie leaves, and Teague holds up his hand. “Before we leave, I want to test your reaction to Charli’s blood.”

Andros vehemently shakes his head and backs up. “No.”

Implacable resolve settles on Teague’s face. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

Andros turns toward Macklin, but whatever he sees makes his shoulders drop. “Get on with it.”

Teague picks up my hand, and a black claw extends from his finger. Astonished, I look up at him, and he winks. He presses it to my finger, and blood wells. Grabbing the teacup lying beside Andros’ bag, he squeezes a few drops into it.

Macklin moves closer to Andros.

“Do you smell it?” Teague asks Andros.

“Hard not to,” he drawls. “I’m starving.”

Teague moves closer, and Andros’ head rears back. There’s a brief flash of red in his eyes, then it’s gone. He grabs the cup and downs the few drops.

“Well?”