Hermosa's POV

I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the trees blur into a dark smudge against the horizon. My arm throbbed where the needle had pierced me—a dull reminder of the life I’d just drained out of myself for people who looked at me like a meal.

Ragal’s scent—cedar and something sharp like a coming storm—filled the small space of the car. It was suffocating and comforting all at once. I looked at his hands, gripped so tight on the steering wheel ...