Page 88

“Exposed and alone.” Elena shook her head. “Unacceptable.”

Zuri laughed. “I’m not asking your permission, babe. I’m only telling you so you didn’t freak out when you strolled outta here and found we’d left.”

“We?” Elena repeated, attention shifting to Marisol who looked torn. “You believe it is safe for her there?”

“I’m sure as shit not leaving her here.” She propped her hands on her hips. “And as long as those wings stay wherever the hell they are when we can’t see them, it’s hard to detect her power. Even now that I know it’s there, I can’t sense it unless I’m looking for it. Unfortunately, the fucked nature of my coven is no secret. It’s not a stretch to think that I’m desperate to take on a kitchen witch.”

“A what?” Marisol asked, brow furrowed.

“Someone who’s born without any magic, but can learn how to make natural remedies… work with herbs… small things like that anyone can do,” Zuri explained without taking her eyes off Elena.

“Can you at least wait until I return from St. Augustine?” Elena asked.

Zuri turned toward the door, hand on Marisol’s wrist. “No.”

“Why do you allow her to speak to you like that?” Lib asked when they were gone.

Because she is the only one who ever has, she thought before straightening. “Let’s go. Get the helicopter ready,” she said without adding that she just wanted to get the trip over with. “Send a car with them.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

East Hialeah had turnedunrecognizable in the last decade, another thing for Zuri to worry about. Gone were the days ofwater, mud, and factories, the derogatory slogan that had been slapped on the city by its snobby neighbors. Now, gentrification had brought shit like microbreweries and glassy buildings in place of small business and affordable housing.

“This is so cool,” Marisol said from the passenger seat. “I didn’t know Hialeah was like this. The city that progresses, right?” She pointed at the industrial park that had been converted into an arts district. Every building was covered in a different mural with tattoo parlors and art galleries and retail stores tucked inside.

“It’s not.” Zuri’s gaze flicked to her rearview mirror. To the black SUV with opaque window tints. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, hating the sensation of being followed.

At least Elena’s vamp dogs were staying a few car-lengths behind while they traded city activity for the desolate limestone quarry. When she made it to the end of the unmarked access road that turned bumpy as they neared what used to be a cement manufacturer, she hit her hazards. The signal that they stopthere and wait. As soon as the SUV pulled into an empty gravel pit, she relaxed her grip.

Zuri might have agreed to bring Elena’s guys so she’d shut the hell up, but she wasn’t going to let them near The Roads. At least Elena hadn’t fought her on the Librada veto. Even if the woman didn’t scream vampire from a thousand miles away, Zuri wouldn’t trust her.

For as long as Zuri had been in Elena’s orbit, she hadn’t learned a single fucking thing about Librada. That was weird. At least Sofia was openly a homicidal maniac, and she used her impulses to hand out vigilante justice. A cause Zuri supported enthusiastically. But Librada was unreadable, unknowable, and that could only mean untrustworthy.

“Is the market outside?” Marisol craned her neck, loose dark blonde hair spilling over the top of her shoulder. “It’s going to start pouring.”

Heavy gray clouds rolled in above them like they were running late and trying to make up time. Double checking that the SUV was still parked at a distance where only vampire sight could see the market entrance, Zuri hit the gas.

“Jesus.” Marisol grabbed the armrest and chuckled. “Are you made of sugar? Afraid of melting?”

The reminder of what her grandmother used to say in Spanish eased the tension coiled like a spring in her belly. Marisol was visible in her periphery—all freckled skin and long, flushed neck. She was so beautiful. So dangerous. It’s not that Zuri hadn’t already accepted that she was in too deep, it’s that she couldn’t find the will to get out of the water.

She waited to respond until she reached the enormous metal shelter that could double as an airport hanger. Parked on the side with several dozen other cars, Zuri offered Marisol a tiny smirk. “Getting wet in public isn’t my thing, Bambi. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Instead of being shocked, Marisol bit her bottom lip. Despite the fierce blush on her skin, she held Zuri’s gaze and responded, “I doubt that there’s anything that’s not your thing.” She moistened her lips. “Or that you could ever disappoint.”

Zuri was tempted to give in—to kiss her, to confess that she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Ever since she’d decided to ask Elena for help, things had only spiraled further out of control. Maybe the three of them should take off, start over somewhere else—somewhere free of impossible expectations and bone-crushing responsibility.

But she didn’t give in. If she let herself come loose in the slightest, she’d unravel. And she’d be no use to anyone if she crumbled.

Umbrella tucked in her bag for the imminent downpour, Zuri bounded out of the car and started for the entrance. Yanking open the aluminum door, she waited for Marisol to walk in first.

“Whoa,” Marisol muttered like Zuri hoped she would.

The Roads was an explosion of sights and smells and sounds. Instead of stalls laid out in rows, vendors of all kinds spiraled out from the center of the space like an octopus unfurling her tentacles. The scent of incense mixed with dried herbs and the smells from the grill always burning at the heart of the market.

“I didn’t know it would be so big,” Marisol said, following closely next to Zuri while they started for their destination.

Without thinking about it, Zuri took her hand, making it clear that Marisol was hers. That she belonged. Intertwining their fingers like they walked like that all the time, Marisol’s skin was soft and warm against hers.