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in silence. Elijah was lost in memory. No matter how much space time put between him and that awful day, it would never be enough.
    He glanced at Kayla. She was only about ten years younger than he, but he felt a hundred years older. She was pretty. It was as if fate had made her to suit his tastes. White-blond hair and eyes the color of blue ice. His gaze swept her body, remembering the feel of her tucked against his chest. His cock stirred and he cleared his throat. She was innocent, hadn’t he done enough already? His anger the other night had caused him to massacre those men. Although he felt no pity for them, his lack of control had cost her her safety. He’d have to keep her with him for now, maybe for longer than she’d like, but he didn’t need to specify a time frame just yet. She’d get used to it, to him. And when he could, he’d release her, help her start again somewhere better than where she’d been. He’d then disappear from her world and give her a chance at a decent life. A human life. He couldn’t claim her as his, even if with her, he could begin the pack again.
    “Tell me your story,” he said, although he already knew it.
    “My story?” she asked, looking at him with pure innocence and something else, something akin to trust.
    “M-hm.” He placed his half-finished coffee in the cup holder and unwrapped a candy bar. He’d need to hunt soon; he was hungry. And he needed to keep her fed with more than crackers and candy bars.
    “Well, I was born in Pittsburgh and lived kind of all over. I had great parents, the best. Everything was normal until I was about seven. My dad disappeared the day before my birthday, actually. He was just gone. Never came home from work. No one knew what had happened. Police were useless, said he ran off with another woman. My mom didn’t believe it though, not for a second. And neither did I. He loved her, he wouldn’t have left her. Or me. My mom packed us up the next day and we took off.
    “She was different after that. Scared. I knew it, even though she always tried to act like we were normal, like everything was ok. I missed my dad, but we never talked about him leaving. My mom refused to tell me his stories, telling me I should forget all that silliness, and I got used to it, I guess. I was eleven when she was killed in a car crash. They put me in an orphanage where I lived until I was eighteen. Never got adopted. Everyone wants a baby, not some kid. Not that I wanted new parents anyway.” She faced out of the passenger side window so he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the struggle in her voice.
    He wished he could fill in the gaps, but couldn’t. Not now, not yet. No, not ever. Not if he wanted her to have a normal life.
    “How old are you, by the way?” she asked.
    “Thirty-six. You?”
    “Twenty-four.” She took the last sip of her coffee. “This is really awful stuff. Maybe if we pass a Starbucks you could stop?” They were driving through more populated areas now and the road had turned into a real highway.
    “We’ll see.”
    “Or a McDonalds. I could eat a Big Mac. And a pile of fries.”
    “You’re hungry,” he said, liking that she was relaxing just a little.
    She nodded. “You must be too.”
    “There’s a rest area coming up. It’s another mile but we’ll stop.”
    “Thanks,” she said.
    “Go on with your story.”
    “It’s not that interesting. I had started college, but my grades weren’t great and I dropped out. I got mixed up with a pretty rough crowd at one point. Got into drugs for a while.”
    “Is that how you met Todd?”
    “Yep.”
    “Please go on.”
    “It was Todd actually who made me get my life together. Or at least the way he treated me made me do it. I knew I had to do something to get out of there. Out of that life. I started college again and worked more than full time to pay for it and the apartment. And Todd’s drug habit. Strange how we’re drawn to the very things we think we’re