As soon as the bus jerks to a stop again, I stand up and start to approach the front of the bus with shaking hands and legs. It was noticeable to the other passengers and the driver, but he didn’t say anything when he stood up.
“We’ll get your things from the cargo hold.” He says quietly, and his voice is steady but not indifferent.
He guides me down the steps of the bus without touching me, and as soon as my shoes hit the pavement, I see it.
A black SUV idles a few yards away, sleek and expensive and completely out of place in this tiny roadside stop.
Ezra is in the driver’s seat. His gaze is fixed on me.
The mate bond tightens instantly, sharp and furious and possessive, and I have to force myself not to react.
I take my bag from the driver and stand there for a moment staring at t
