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Shay wet her lips, heart pounding. “Can you tell us anything else about this blue-haired girl?”

She hummed. “Not much, I’m afraid. All I know is the police have been looking for her since those three men turned up dead.”

Dead? Why hadn’t Shay heard about this?

“Where?” Roman asked.

“They seem to be keeping the whole thing hush-hush, but…I heard it was somewhere in Angelthene.”

Shay gripped the desk. “What about Anna? They didn’t…” She swallowed. “Find her?”

Priscilla shook her head and took off her glasses. “They only found the men.”

Shay headed out into the blistering heat and shut the door to room number nine behind her. She could feel Roman watching from where he leaned against his car as she locked up, but she didn’t turn to see what he was looking at—she didn’t need to. She’d caught him staring only a few minutes ago, when they’d left the motel office to briefly return to the room for backpacks, water, and supplies.

She wore a white tank and frayed denim shorts that barely covered her ass. If he was looking anywhere but at the latter, especially after she’d caught him flat out leering when they’d left the office, she’d be surprised. She was still too distracted by what they’d learned to call him out on it, but the urge was creeping up on her quickly.

Shay plunked the key into her backpack and zipped it shut. She slung one of the straps over her shoulder and walked to the car, gravel crunching under her boots.

Roman was still staring. He looked…pissed off? Yeah, that was his ‘I’m pissed’ face. It was a far cry from the look he’d given her earlier, and the sight of it took her by surprise more than the lust.

“What’s with you?” she demanded.

“Could you have worn shorter shorts?”

She flashed him a saccharine grin. “Could you be any more annoying?”

He opened his door. “You’re going to fry out there in the desert. You got sunscreen?” Why did that question—and the genuine concern in his stare—make her feel funny inside? It was…definitely not what she had expected him to say.

“Why do you care?” She opened her door and threw her bag into the back seat next to his.

“I don’t—I’m just trying to avoid another of your whining episodes.”

They got in, and Roman started the car. Shay reached for the A/C, only for Roman to block her, his knuckles knocking into hers with a spark that felt like static electricity.

Shay pulled away and tucked her hand between her thighs.

“Don’t,” he began in a hard voice, seemingly unaffected by the electric jolt, “touch my dials.” Shay was surprised that he seemed so…blasé about the charge, considering her skin was still prickling. It felt like a bunch of tiny teeth were nibbling her fingers.

“Don’t look at my ass,” she countered, discreetly rubbing the back of her hand against her thigh.

“I wasn’t looking at your ass.”

“I caught you.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw, and his eyes dipped downward—to the hand that was clamped between her bare thighs. His attention stayed there longer than necessary. The more he looked, the hotter Shay felt—not to mention embarrassed as the beginnings of a pulse formed between her legs.

Slowly, Roman lifted his gaze. When his eyes locked on hers, there was no gold in the irises—they were just black, like the Sight, except not. It was…odd. And now she knew she wasn’t imagining the change.

Shay whispered sweetly, “Maybe, if you resist staring, you’ll find that my choice of shorts won’t bother you so much.”

They glared each other down for what felt like years. Time seemed to do weird things when she was around him. Like suddenly not exist anymore.

Finally, Roman said, “I can’t stand you.”

Shay buckled up. “Likewise.”

He sped out of the parking lot, car drifting to one side, and took off down the stretch of highway, the sun beating brightly through the windshield.