Page 25 of Shadow Hunter

She would need to toughen up for med school, if that was still her plan. She’d been prepping for her studies when they’d last communicated several months ago. He opened his mouth to comment but then promptly caught himself.

Do not go there, Damon.

He couldn’t let her know who he was. Not if he wanted to ensure her safety.

No, he needed to take her home. Drop her off at her apartment, then turn and never look back. He shifted the car into drive and paused to plan out his next move. Getting the samples into Headquarters’ database before the evidence could be comprised needed to be his priority.

Within a few seconds they were back on the street, speeding away from the hospital.

Tiffany slumped against the headrest, closing her eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Your place. I’m taking you home. Give me the address, Shortcake.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go home after this.”

He lifted a brow. “Why the hell not?”

“Did you see that girl in there?” She gestured toward the morgue and shuddered. “I’ll never sleep.”

He shook his head, moving to shift the car into gear. “How you sleep isn’t my problem.”

“I’ll feel safer,” she blurted out, causing him to stop suddenly.

His gaze slid toward her.

“I’ll feel safer if I’m with you,” she whispered. “Damon, please.” Those doe eyes softened as she stared up at him.

Damon swallowed, hard.

Why did he have the distinct feeling she was playing him like a fiddle? And with complete ease, no less. He was a fool.

As if she could see the crack in his armor, the fissure she’d created, she drove the nail in further. “Just let me tag along with you. Just for one night. Let me be close to Mark’s memory. That’s all I ask,” she pleaded.

Damon felt himself hesitate. His next move was sending off the samples, and that meant taking her to his place. What the hell would Mark say if he knew he’d not only kissed his baby sister, but now he was considering taking her home with him? His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He didn’t even need to ask that question.

He already knew exactly what Mark would say.

His friend’s imagined voice sounded inside his head.

Hands off my sister, Brock.

Message received. Loud and clear. He started the car, pulling out onto the street. Though that wouldn’t stop her from running back to Caius the first chance she got. Apparently, the morguevisit hadn’t done the trick, not if the way she was playing him was any indication, and that also didn’t stop the image of Tiffany lying across the black cotton sheets of his bed from settling into his mind.

“Fuck me. I can’t do this.” He pulled the car over onto the shoulder.

“Do what?” Tiffany asked, her expression all innocence. “Drive or keep me captive anymore?”

He raked a hand over his face. “Both.”

He could feel her watching him from the passenger seat, like his exasperation amused her. “Look, Shortcake,” he said, releasing a long sigh. “I’m not going to keep you here if you want to go. I can’t do this.”

Better to leave Tiffany to fend for herself than be the monster to take advantage of her, and if he spent much more time alone with her, he wasn’t certain he could make himself behave.

Already she had him wrapped around her finger.

That much was clear.

“So that’s it?” she said, throwing up her hands like she was exasperated with him. “First you abduct me from the club, dangle the knowledge that you know my brother in front of me like a piece of meat, and now you’re just going to drop me offhere? At the side of the road?” She waved a hand, gesturing to the sidewalk. “What the fuck, Damon?”

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