Getting him inside without banging the shit out of his poor, concussed head is a lot harder than they make it seem in the movies. Especially when his loopy aura laps gently across my skin, reminding me that it’s been a full day since I’ve last fed. I place him on the back seat, very conscious of the fact that his pants are gone, and he wears only a pair of Gabe’s boxer briefs, blue and stamped with a pattern of shiny golden lightning bolts. His lids crack open, and his eyes are soft and brown, fringed by short black lashes. “How are you?” I whisper as I lean over him to pull the seatbelt across his frame. “Is Tarren okay?” Rain’s voice is rough and slurry. The welt on the side of his temple throbs an angry red. “Yeah, he’s fine. How do you feel?” I reach out, press my fingers through his pale aura, and brush his bangs out of his eyes. “Smells like…piss,” he mumbles. “Probably shouldn’t point any fingers, but that was all you.” Rain looks at me with huge eyes.
