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With a fearful gasp, she staggered out of bed and tiptoed to where their bags sat. But it wasn’therbag she reached for. It was Paxton’s.

Stealing from a twelve-year-old boy wasn’t her proudest moment, but she was desperate. If she didn’t get a suppressant into her system…

Gods, it’d be bad. Really freaking bad. It was either a suppressant or an orgasm, and current sleeping arrangements—plus her shaky relationship with a certain infuriating Shadowmaster—determined that the latter was definitelynotan option.

Nope. No way. Roman wasn’t doing her any more favors.

She eased the prescription pill bottle out of the side pouch in Paxton’s backpack. Now, all she needed was water. She could drink from the tap in the bathroom, but she didn’t want to wake Paxton up.

Wearing a pair of pajama shorts and Roman’s shirt—which she absolutely shouldnotbe wearing, yet here she was, still wearing it like an idiot—she crept to the door, eased the lock open, and slipped out into the night.

The cool air kissed her skin, making it a little easier to breathe. She took several deep, gulping lungfuls before stepping into the light of the bulb mounted outside the door so she could read the label.

These were the same pills she always took. The only difference was the higher dose.

Perfect. A higher dose was exactly what she needed.

Now for the water.

She stepped out from beneath the overhang, trying to remember where in the hell she’d seen that vending machine?—

“Sneaking around, are we?” drawled a husky male voice.

Shay whirled, hand flying to her throat. “What thehell,Roman!” she hissed, her heart pounding nauseatingly hard. But?—

Wait a minute. Wherewashe?

She spun around, searching for him. “Where are you?” she fumed in a hushed voice.

“Look up.”

She tipped her head back?—

There he was, lying on his back on the roof, right above their motel room.

“What are you doing up there?” she whispered.

“Watching the stars. I just saw a falling one.” He lifted a cigarette to his lips, the end burning a bright orange.

She cleared her throat. “All right, well—you have fun with that.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“Doesn’t look like nowhere.”

“It’s none of your business!” she clipped. “Now, if you would excuse me?—”

“You’re not excused.” His statement froze her mid-step. He was still staring up at the starry sky, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

She scoffed. “What are you, my jailer? I don’t need your permission to leave.”

“You said it first,” he pointed out.

A laugh burst out of her. “You are so annoying!”

He rolled—literallyrolled—off the roof and landed lithely on his feet like a freaking cat, his knees bending to absorb the impact.