Amelia watched the boat zip away, her colour slowly returning. Obviously, the muddy water and slimy moss that slithered around her body were preferable to continuing their boat ride.
“They’ll eventually stumble across our scent,” she pointed out.
Stefan’s expression hardened. He would do whatever was necessary to protect Amelia, but this division between werewolf and demon had to end.
Damn Calisto.
Bastard was deliberately using him to weaken Stefan’s power base.
“Let’s hope for their sake that they don’t.”
Amelia climbed the bank, relieved to discover that the Illinois side of the Mississippi River was a flat expanse of recently plowed fields, rather than the rolling bluffs she was accustomed to. She wasn’t a wuss. She could run for hours without breaking a sweat. Hell, she could do
