Mixed Blood (Turned Trilogy #1)

[ TWO ]

I had felt different since I could remember. Maybe that’s why the Turned aren’t interested in my blood. I wasn’t sure of the reason, I was probably better off not knowing. What mattered was finding Erik. He was all that I had left. Living without him wasn’t an option. What strength my daddy had passed onto me was slipping away each day I was battling the harsh cold and Turned.

“Hello? Is there anyone out there?” I continued to mess with the CB radio stations, only static responded. I continued searching, hoping. My stiff fingers gripped the microphone in my hand. “I’m alone, searching for a military base, does anyone copy?”

Static.

I struck my fist onto the steering wheel horn. Pressing on the brake, I stopped the Jeep in the middle of nowhere. Looking ahead, I felt deflated. No fresh tracks sighted ahead. Fear of freezing to death crept inside my mind. I shivered. Pulling the fur hood of my jacket over my head, I removed my gloves. My fingers were bright red, an onset of frostbite. Crying wasn’t an option, though. But damn, I wanted to.

“Are you there – I’m – copy?”

The voice over the CB radio went in and out. I grabbed the microphone. “Hello! I’m here! This is Lara Steele, I’m searching for a military base…do you copy?”

My heart thudded rapidly against my ribs. Warmth covered my cold body as the adrenaline kicked in, hoping for a response. Silence on the other end. Not even static. I threw the microphone at the windshield.

"Dammit," I yelled. "What the hell do I need to find you, Erik?" My eyes searched the vehicle, finally landing on the glove box. "Map!" I began to laugh at myself over my stupidity. How had I not checked the glove box before? A map could route me toward the nearest military camp or base.

Leaning over the center console, I opened the glove box. Pieces of balled up paper spilled out onto the floor. My eyes lit up when I noticed the folded map tucked far in the back. Adjusting myself back onto the driver's seat to examine the map, a shadow appeared in my peripheral. Slowly, I turned my head to the left, staring straight into the eyes of a young man.

"Go away!" I said. That moment, I wished I had a gun to scare him off.

His blue lips trembled; clumps of snow fell from the sky, sticking to his thick eyelashes. I held my breath, waiting for him to turn and walk the other way, but he didn't. We stared at one another through the translucent glass. I exhaled. My warm breath fogged the glass. Wiping away the residue, I watched as his gloved hand pressed flat against the window.

"Please," he replied, his words muffled from the other side of the glass. "I'm not going to hurt you. My vehicle ran out of gas. I'm stranded, freezing, and I just need to warm up. I won't try anything stupid, I promise." His hand slid down the window and back into his coat pocket.

I stared at him longer, noticing his blond curls peeking out from his brown winter hat, flipping upward from the force of the winter wind. His blue eyes seemed kind. The way his chiseled features were reddened by the cold air and his lips chapped from walking a great distance, I no longer felt he was a threat.

I rolled down the window halfway. "Don't try anything stupid or you'll lose a hand." My knife settled on my lap. His eyes roamed the cleanliness of the steel. He tried smiling, but his bloodied lips from the cracked skin made him scowl.

"Thanks," he said, and walked around the front of the vehicle, his body a mere shadow in the thicket of the snowfall.

I watched him as he opened the passenger door and climbed in, his body carried the cold inside. Leaning closer to the driver's door, I glared at him with intention to intimidate, but he looked straight at me and glared back.

"Better?" I said, gripping the handle of my knife. The stranger never flinched.

He nodded. "What do you plan to do with that knife?" His eyes narrowed downward to my hand.

That moment, I slid upward on the seat and maneuvered over the center console, landing on the stranger's lap. I balanced on my knees, allowing them to dig deep into his thighs. He cringed as I held the sharp blade up to his throat, just below his Adam's apple.

"I plan to kill you if try to steal this vehicle," I said through my clenched teeth. Pressing the blade a little harder, a trickle of blood dribbled down his neck.

We stared into each other's eyes. I didn't dare blink, my eyes watered, stinging from the dry heat inside the vehicle pumping out from the ducts. The stranger, who looked near my age, threw his left arm into the air, catching hold of my wrist. His hand wrapped tightly around my skin. I tried pulling away, but his grip was too strong. Internally I fought the pain, but externally, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of how much it hurt.

"Have you ever killed anyone before?" His voice was low and gruff. "Could you stick me with this blade and watch me die in front of your eyes?" He blinked his long eyelashes mesmerizing. Before I could speak, he twisted my wrist and pinned me back against the dashboard. His long arms held me in place with the blade now at my own neck.

"What does it matter to you?" I said, writhing in pain as he held my wrist at an awkward angle. "Let me go." He continued to hold the blade against my throat. I could barely hold on any longer, and I would slip downward toward the floor, allowing the blade to slice into my soft flesh. Swallowing, I bit down on bottom lip and kicked up my leg, pressing the bottom of my boot to the side of his face.

Squirming beneath my boot, he fumbled for the door handle, swinging open the passenger door. He tumbled out, taking me with him. I land with a thud on top of him, the knife sunk deep into the snow behind him. I tried to reach over his head, but he grabbed my wrists, and flipped me over onto my back. Staring down at me, he moved closer to my face.

"You won't win," he said out of breath. "Stop fighting me!"

I wiggled beneath him, trying to escape, but his weight was too much. Maybe having him tag along wouldn't be so bad. He was a strong enough. I wanted to see him up against a Turned. Relaxing, I laid still and looked up at him. Snowflakes clumped around his blond eyebrows. His face softened as he sits back, slumping his shoulders forward.

I lifted my head from the ground, propping myself up onto my elbows. "Got a name?"

He nodded. "Wyatt."

"Lara."

"Pleased to meet you," he said, a bit of southern accent slipping through. "Can we get along now?"

I smiled.