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pressing the heel of her palm against her head.
    He settled her on the bike’s seat, making certain she wasn’t about to fall over. She glanced at the vehicle nervously.
    He slipped in front of her. The engine still rumbled softly. He knew by its make that it was a fast piece of machinery, but he would take it a bit slower with Cora on the back.
    “Put your arms around me and hold on tight.”
    She hesitated.
    He pulled her arms around his torso. The act caused her chest to press up against his back. He called back, “If I feel your grip loosen, I’ll cuff ‘em together, understand?”
    “I-I don’t know how long I can hold on. Also, I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle.”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll be doing all the work. Hold on for as long as you can. Keep talking if you have to.”
    He heeled up the kickstand and eased the bike forward. Cora tensed, as he figured she would. Her grip around his torso became vice-like, and her legs squeezed his hips. Any other time, he would have enjoyed the way she clung to him. Who was he kidding? He still enjoyed it.
    Instead of heading north, he crossed the median and went south. As he picked up speed, Cora buried her head in his back. Then he kicked it into high-gear, and she let out a squeal.
    Soon enough, St. Stamsworth was several miles behind them. The setting sun sent shadows stretching across the road. Mace exited the highway, deciding it might be safer to maneuver through the back roads from now on. Now that he’d had a moment to think, he had to assume that the driver of the black SUV had somehow known he and Cora would be traveling the highway at that time. The bastard had appeared from nowhere—most definitely hadn’t been following them the whole way—which meant there was an informant.
    Mace turned onto a gravely road and eased off the gas a little. Here, a bit of green was fighting strong, creeping up from the black rocky ground along the roadside. A few spora dic trees sported buds along lucky branches.
    Cora’s grip loosened a bit. “How are you doing back there?” He yelled over the din of the wind.
    She made no response.
    He turned the wheel and coasted into a wooded area, not stopping till he was far enough from the road that no one would see what he was about to do.
    He toed down the kickstand and twisted around to look at Cora. Her eyes drooped, and blood coated her head all the way down her right side. He feared the damage she’d sustained was more significant than he’d originally concluded. Head wounds were tricky like that. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long to heal her with his blood, but he’d had to find a safe spot first.
    He looped her arm around his neck and pulled her from the bike. Her body was limp, and she wasn’t staring at anything in particular. A black cloud of dread moved to the forefront of his mind.
    “Cora?”
    She mumbled something he couldn’t decipher.
    He set her down, letting her lie back against the dried ground. A soft moan left her lips. Her features scrunched painfully. Then her eyelids cracked open; her pupils were pinpricks, unseeing. She was already deep in shock.
    He lifted his wrist to his mouth and sank his fangs into the flesh. Then he moved his now bleeding wrist to her lips, allowing his blood to drizzle into her mouth. She flinched. With a languid touch, she tried to push his arm away.
    After a moment, her vision seemed to clear and she met his gaze. Realization flashed over her. Fear replaced her previously zombified expression. She began to struggle, pushing harder against his arm and shoving her feet on the ground to move her body back.
    Quelling the attempt to get away was akin to holding a bunny rabbit in place. The weight of his body pressed her into the soft turf. He reached up with his free hand and gripped the hair at her nape in his fist, tilting her head back to open her mouth wider. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut, clenching her teeth.
    “You have to drink it,” he said. “It will heal