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Street Date: Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 13, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 13, 2010 ![]() $0.17 Rewards
Street Date: Tuesday, July 27, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 27, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 27, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 27, 2010 “Ohmigod, ohmigod.” Tabby pulled her hair, staring into her closet. It was six forty-five and her mate would be here any minute, she didn’t know his name and she had nothing to wear.
“Little black dress.” Cyn stuck her head in Tabby’s bedroom, grinning at the pile of clothing around Tabby’s feet. “Can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”
“Guh.” The panic was threatening to tear Tabby apart. She stared at the three black dresses hanging in her closet, her hand moving between them like a demented butterfly.
Glory’s head peeked in from the other side of the doorway. “The sleeveless one.”
“Uh?” She held up her sleeveless black dress, the one with the red belt and matching shoes.
Two heads bobbed in agreement.
Tabby stripped, more than used to being naked in front of her roommates. Hell, when she’d first moved in with them, they’d been shocked at how easy she felt being nude. Glory had actually asked her if she was gay and trying to tempt them to “the dark side”. She’d giggled and said that she might be susceptible to temptation if the dark side had chocolate. Tabby had just shaken her head and put some clothes on. She’d spent so long as a Wolf, she’d forgotten some of the basic parts of being human, like pants. The first time she’d used a toilet after so many years had been an interesting experience, something Mrs. Anderson still chuckled about.
When Cyn and Glory had found out what she was, they’d freaked a little. They hadn’t accepted her immediately. In fact, there’d been another girl, Brit, who’d worked at Living Art. Brit had left, refusing to believe what she’d seen the night Tabby, drunk off her ass for the first time in her life, let her Wolf loose in the middle of the apartment. She’d gone so far as to quit her job when Glory and Cyn refused to fire her or kick her out of their apartment. But Glory and Cyn, after the initial shock had passed (and after, they claimed, they wiped up the dog drool), had accepted her without reservations. Hell, they’d mocked her once the hangover had passed. There was still a huge bag of Kibbles N’ Bits in the pantry the bitches refused to throw away “just in case”.
If she thought they’d take it, she’d make them Pack in a heartbeat. She missed having that connection, the knowledge that there were others for her to rely on without a shadow of a doubt. Part of her wondered if her dipshit ex had ever told his father the truth, or if he’d shrugged and let it go. Let her go.
Tabby shook her head and reached for her hairbrush, smoothing down her hair. That didn’t matter now. Her mate would be here any minute. She slicked on some berry gloss and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she stuck out her tongue and made a face. She was so nervous, her Wolf was whining. She slipped her feet into the red high heels, grabbed her favorite purse and headed for the living room. “Well?”
Cyn circled her finger. “Twirl.”
Tabby twirled.
Glory wolf-whistled. “See you at work tomorrow.”
Cyn snickered and threw a bunch of condoms at her. “You’ll need these.”
Tabby swallowed. “I’m gonna throw up.” Nausea roiled in her belly. She bent and picked up the condoms just as the doorbell rang.
Glory had the door open before Tabby could hide the packets. “C’mon in!”
In stepped the hottie from the store. He wore a green shirt that really emphasized his hazel eyes, dark wash jeans that looked painted onto his thighs and thick-soled black boots. Now that she was upright, she could see how tall he was. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reaching his upper lip, even in her four-inch heels. She’d hit his chin in her bare feet. His bald head gleamed, his jaw clean-shaven. She could see the tattoo that circled his biceps and her fingers itched to trace the design. In his hand, he held a daffodil.
My favorite flower. How did he know? Tabby smiled, knowing her mouth was trembling. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her flowers. “For me?”
He held it out, a smile on his full lips. “Hello, Tabby.”
“Thank you.” She reached for the daffodil.
He coughed. “I’ll take those.” He reached over and removed the condoms from her hand, grinning at her embarrassed squawk. “It’s okay, honey. I’m just glad one of us is, um, prepared.” He eyed the condoms. “Very prepared.” He unrolled them, one eyebrow rising in disbelief. “And optimistic.”
Glory was practically doubled over with laughter. Tabby’s face was beet red. She snatched the condoms back with her free hand, snarling as one got left behind in his big paw. She could hear Cyn snuffling and snorting behind her and just knew they were practically choking on their laughter.
She turned to her two roommates with a smile. “Don’t make me forget I’m housebroken.” They stopped, but from the way they were clinging together, Tabby figured it was only a matter of time before one of them broke again. She turned back to her new mate. “And you, whose name I don’t even know.” She smiled at Mr. Chocolate. “Thank you for the flower. My name’s Tabitha Garwood.”
Mr. Sin held out his paw, the condom miraculously gone. “Bunny.” She wondered if he’d dropped it or shoved it into his pocket for later.
Wait. “Bunny,” she repeated carefully.
“Alexander Bunsun, but everyone calls me Bunny.” He grinned.
She sniffed. Nope, his scent is definitely Bear.
“Are you laughing at my name?” Bunny’s hands went to his hips, but she could tell he wasn’t pissed by the way his lips quirked up.
She blinked. “Yes.”
He coughed, but she could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Dinner?” He held out his arm.
She gave him her sweetest smile and took it. “Yes.”
“Hold on.” Glory stopped them by placing her hand on Bunny’s arm, her expression worried. For all that Glory liked to flirt like mad, when it came down to actual dating she could be a real worrywart.
Bunny chucked her under the chin. “I’ll take care of her. My word on it.”
Glory studied him, and Bunny stood still, allowing her intense scrutiny. Glory relaxed and nodded, looking relieved. Tabby wasn’t sure she felt the same.
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Adobe ePub [ 0.7 Mb ]Street Date: Tuesday, June 29, 2010 Adobe Digital Edition [ 2.3 Mb ]Street Date: Tuesday, June 29, 2010 Microsoft Reader [ 0.7 Mb ]Street Date: Tuesday, June 29, 2010 MobiPocket (OD) [ 0.4 Mb ]Street Date: Tuesday, June 29, 2010 eReader [ 0.3 Mb ]Street Date: Tuesday, June 29, 2010 “Well, well. I’m so upset you’re finally awake.” At the sound of his voice, deep and rumbling, Scarlet stiffened, gaze once again roving. Then, she spotted him, and her heart stopped abruptly. He stood in the bedroom’s doorway, muscled arms hanging loosely. He was a warrior whose wicked face promised incomparable nights of sinful pleasures, his eyes bright with anticipation and contradicting his casual pose. Gideon. Once her beloved husband, but now a man who deserved only her scorn. Her heart kicked back into gear, quickly gaining speed, and her blood heated with tendrils of awareness. The same reaction she’d experienced the first time she’d seen him, thousands of years ago. Not my fault, then or now. There was no man more beautiful, part angel, part devil, and all the more masculine for it. No man who tempted even as he repelled, some place deep inside a woman warning her of the dangers that awaited her should she succumb to his allure. Dangers she couldn’t help but crave. He wore a black T-shirt that read “You Know You Want Me,” black pants that bagged just a little, and a silver chain belt. There were three piercings in his right eyebrow, and now one in his lip. A hoop. Silver. To match his belt, she thought snidely. He’d always cared about his appearance, and hadn’t liked being teased about it. Something that had once amused her, for it had showed a softer side of him. A hint of vulnerability. Today, however, she couldn’t summon any joviality. While he stood there looking as edible as a chocolate truffle dipped in caramel, she probably resembled a gutter rat dipped in sewage. She’d only been able to scrub herself with the water the Lords brought her each evening, so her clothes were wrinkled and dirty and her hair a mass of tangles. “Got lots to say, huh?” he muttered. “We’re on the right track then.” She knew he could only speak lies, so she knew exactly what he meant. He wanted her talking. Keep it cas. Don’t let him know how he affects you. She arched a brow, donning what she hoped was an unconcerned expression. “Remember me yet?” Good. There hadn’t been a single spark of hurt in her tone. His eyes drained of emotion, making those crystalline orbs look as hard as diamonds. “Of course I do.” So, no. He didn’t. Bastard. She didn’t allow her expression to change, wouldn’t let him know how much he upset her. “Then why did you take me out of the fortress?” Slowly, purposefully, she traced a finger down the column of her neck, between her breasts, wondering if — yep. His gaze followed the entire way. Did some part of him still find her attractive? “I’m a very dangerous woman.” “Haven’t been warned about that already.” The words were broken, emerging on a rasp of breath. “And I didn’t remove you to talk comfortably, that’s for sure.” Not because he’d wanted her, then, but just to appease his curiosity. Her hand fell to her lap. She was not disappointed. This was more of the same, and she’d steeled herself against the mental anguish countless times already. One more time should hardly make a difference. “You’re a fool if you thought a change of scenery would loosen my tongue.” Though he remained silent, a muscle ticked in his jaw. He was clearly perturbed. She offered him a sugar-sweet smile, determined to enjoy the moment. And there was something satisfying about leaving him in the dark, keeping him guessing the way he’d kept her guessing about his whereabouts for thousands of worry-filled years. Reminded of her worry, that soul-deep, ever-present worry, she couldn’t stop her smile, fake as it was, from vanishing. She even had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself from chomping on it in fury. “I’ll come back for you,” he’d told her one night. “I’ll set you free, I swear it.” “No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.” Gods, she’d been so whiny back then. But she’d been a prisoner, and he’d been her only bright light. “I love you too much to be without you for long, sweetheart. You know that. But I have to do this. For both of us.” Of course, she hadn’t seen or heard from him after that. Not until the Titans escaped Tartarus, a prison for immortals, and wrested control of the heavens from the Greeks. Not until she’d come here to Earth and searched . . . only to find him carousing for tail at some skanky nightclub. The fury expanded, dotted her line of vision with red. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Slowly the dots dissipated. “We’re done here,” she said, though she remained still, gauging his reaction. “You’re not getting what you want, and you’re certainly not keeping me here.” “Feel free to run from me.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his pecs. “You won’t regret it.” Again, she knew what he meant. Run, and he would ensure she suffered. But she said, “Soon as I stretch, I’ll take you up on that offer and run. Thanks for the suggestion, by the way. I never would have thought of it on my own.” He growled with frustration and anger, all hint of casualness gone. “I was cruel to bring you here. You don’t owe me a favor in return, so you had better not stay put.” “We’re in agreement. You’re cruel, and I don’t owe you anything, so I won’t feel obligated to remain.” Another growl. She tried not to laugh. Damnation, he was still fun to tease. Fun? Her grin faded a second time. She should hate that he could only speak in lies, not enjoy it. That deceitful tongue of his had once shattered her already fragile heart. “That’s so not enough from you,” he sniped. “Wow. Already begging for more.” Once, she’d thought him special. But he’d proven himself exactly like the others. Her mother, her king, her supposed friends. They should have cared about her, but they had betrayed her, each and every one of them. They’d been criminals, sure, but even criminals could love. Right? Right. So why couldn’t they love me? She’d spent her entire life locked inside Tartarus because her mother, Rhea, wife to Cronus, had had an affair with a mortal just before the queen’s imprisonment and had eventually given birth to Scarlet inside her cell. A cell she’d shared with several other gods and goddesses. Scarlet had been raised among them, and at first, they’d liked her. As she’d aged, however, jealousy had sprouted in some. Lust in others. Captivity, hatred and bitterness had soon become her only trusted companions. Until Gideon. ![]() $0.09 Rewards
Street Date: Monday, June 28, 2010 Street Date: Monday, June 28, 2010 Street Date: Monday, June 28, 2010 With images of Sydney cowering against a corner wall, blood trailing down the left side of her face as the man stood over her, threatening her with his strength and presences, the transformation began. Bones popped as Raimond best to all fours; a slick black coat sprouted from his pores. Sydney's please for John to spare her life filled his ears, and rage engulfed him. He raced forward, sailing into the kitchen window with a caterwaul. Shattered glass flew everywhere, and the pair froze. Sydney screamed, her face draining of any remaining color. The bastard stumbled backwards. Snarling, Raimond placed himself between Sydney and John. His satisfaction spiked at seeing the man who got off on frightening him mate whimper like a weakened fool. But whimpering wasn't enough. This man had made her fear for her life, made her bleed. Raimond lunged forward and pinned him to the ground. He brought his whiskered face close to the other man's, letting his mouth open to show his sharp, feline teeth. John's face whitened, and he screamed in manic shrieks. The only thing keeping Raimond from ripping the man's throat out was knowing Sydney was watching. He would never leave that kind of image in her mind. He sniffed the man's neck. Angry growls rumbled deep in his throat. He wanted to bask in John's terror, hoped he got a real feel for what it was like to be defenseless, powerless to stop someone stronger. The man squeezed his eyes shut, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Please. Oh God. Please." Seeing he'd accomplished his goal, Raimond moved off John just as Sydney bolted from the corner. John snatched her wrist and yanked her on top of him on the floor as he pushed backward into the corner, holding Sydney between his legs as a shield. Raimond hissed, baring his teeth. Her gaze dropped to his canines. Violent tremors shook her body, and tears shone in her eyes. "Please don't hurt me." The agony of her ever thinking he could hurt her, even in this form, made him cringe. Her terror erased his vengeance, and he meekly lowered to the ground, resting his head between his paws. John shoved Sydney forward. Screaming, she landed hard on her stomach, her face inches from his paws. John surged to his feet and flew into the kitchen. It took everything in Raimond not to go after him, but Sydney's trembling frame kept him planted. No more horror for her. None. They knew who the assailant was, and the police would be called. In the submissive pose, he didn't move a muscle, waiting for her to understand he wouldn't hurt her. Slowly, she lifted her head, and they stared at each other, nose to nose. "Yellow eyes," she breathed. ![]() $0.11 Rewards
Street Date: Monday, June 21, 2010 Street Date: Monday, June 21, 2010 Street Date: Monday, June 21, 2010 Street Date: Monday, June 21, 2010 All those bad things happening to drive her here couldn’t be coincidental. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where is my sister, and what are you doing in her house?”
The Omegas glanced at each other, confusion apparent on their faces.
The man in the kitchen stuck his head out of the door, chocolate brown eyes wide as he stared at her. “Spice?” The smile he’d given to her when he thought she was Sugar returned but wider.
Her heart skipped a beat. In the light his face seemed familiar as well. “I know you.”
“You should, we were only neighbors forever as kids.”
“Eric!” He had grown. Stupid, of course he’s changed. But she never expected that the skinny, lanky bottle-cap-glasses-wearing nerd would develop into a charming, handsome I-wanna-snuggle-you-on-a-cold-night kind of man. “Hi.” The jobs as a hostess, a bartender, and the most recent, a stripper taught her how to talk to men the way they liked. But with him grinning at her like a happy puppy, her mind went blank.
He swept her into his arms in a bone-cracking hug.
“Wow, I’d forgotten Sugar had a twin.” Tyler scratched his chin. “You look exactly alike, except your hair is short.” ![]() $0.11 Rewards
Street Date: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 24, 2010 The kitchen dominated the other end of the room. Stainless appliances and bronze accents made it appear inviting even if a bit daunting. She enjoyed cooking, but that wasn’t the kind of kitchen for the hobbyist cook. It was for the diehard professional or diehard I-love-to-cook-and-ain’t-afraid-to-show-it cook.
“It’s my other passion, as you know.”
“What’s the first?”
“The outdoors. Love skiing, sledding, mushing. I think I’m going to have a new one that will be much more time consuming and involved. Probably just as strenuous too.”
She couldn’t stop staring at him when he talked. His mouth was quite sexy. “Really? What?”
“If you have to ask that question and judging by the look on your face, you seriously are asking, I’m gonna have to let you think about it.”
She didn’t understand. “I’m confused. I was being sincere in my…” And she stopped speaking, the realization dawning on her. He was talking about her being his new passion. God, he must think her an idiot. “Nevermind. Where’s your shower?”
Damn man smirked at her and ruffled her hair as though she were a child. In retaliation, she stuck her tongue out at him and after a few seconds realized it was not the smartest thing to do. His smile dropped, and his already dark eyes darkened more. She read sex and lust immediately in the snarl of his lips.
It turned her on, this animalistic side of him.
“Don’t stick it out if you’re not prepared to use it.”
“Right. After a shower maybe.”
“Tease,” he muttered. “This way.”
He led her up an open, wooden staircase behind the fireplace. The second floor had four rooms, two on one side and two on the other. From what she could see through the open doors, one might be a bathroom, while the other three appeared to be bedrooms. The middle was open to the great room below and picture windows flanked every open area of wall. There were no actual pictures around but there was no need. The outside world was art enough.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She turned her head toward Carson. He was just as beautiful as the rough and rugged wilderness landscape he lived in. “I love it. I’m in awe of it.”
“Good. It commands respect, demands it and is deserving of it. C’mon, this way.”
He led her through a bedroom, his probably judging by the lived-in feel, and into a bathroom. There were windows looking out over the back of the property. She could stand under the spray of the shower and stare at the mountains beyond. “I bet you never get tired of the view.”
“I don’t. If I did, I could put something up to cover it, but…it’s ever changing. I’ll put your bags on the bed and go down and make something to eat. Holler if you need anything.”
He seemed reluctant to go and his manner was a bit stiffer than before. A quick glance down his body showed his cock was hard, and she heard him huff before he turned and walked out. The view of his ass in jeans wasn’t too bad either.
His earlier comment about her being a tease floated through her head. She wasn’t trying to be a tease and honestly didn’t know the first thing about being one. That was Melanie’s area. She was the brains and the beauty, while Ruby was the fanciful plain Jane. Sticking her tongue out at Carson had been done in a teasing manner, but not one meant to tease him sexually.
Though, after what he did for her last night, using his mouth on her… She’d fallen asleep and slept better than she could remember sleeping in a long, long time. Her body relaxed, her mind eased and she’d slept like a baby, even if she hadn’t slept long enough.
She could still feel his mouth too. He kissed her sex the way he kissed her mouth, completely as if it were the only thing, the most important thing in the world. And he used everything…tongue, teeth, lips, breath. Not having a reference point for how awesome it felt to have a man make you come orally, she thought it was probably the best thing in the world, right up there with… Well, she didn’t know what to compare it to that would be just as good. Much as she loved her self-induced orgasms and her fun little sex toys, nothing made her feel quite like his mouth had.
Being on top was… She’d never done that either. No man had pulled her up over his face and then pulled her down while at the same time telling her to ride the tip of his tongue. No one had ever let her have that kind of power and that’s what it was, a form of power. He held her, but he let her control how it happened by lifting up, or grinding down to get to the edges of his teeth.
Talk about amazing. Sh—
“You ever gonna turn on the shower?”
She jumped, squeaked even. Had he just been standing outside the door? She never heard him move after he left, but if he’d gone to get her bags as he said, she didn’t hear him come back either. In response, she quickly figured out his shower knob and turned it on.
And then she heard his laugh.
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Breaking Dawn Excerpt Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. —Edna St. Vincent Millay Preface 'd had more than my fair share of near-death experiences; it wasn't something you ever really got used to. It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked for disaster. I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me. Still, this time was so different from the others. You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you hated. All my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killers—the monsters, the enemies. When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it? If it was someone you truly loved? 1. Engaged No one is staring at you, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you. But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check. As I sat waiting for one of the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right—in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore? Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car. My car. Sigh. I glanced to the left and groaned. Two pedestrians were frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet. The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking—the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving. Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine. "Arg!" I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The car lurched to an absolute standstill anyway. I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again. I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public. Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me. It wasn't bright out—a typical drizzly day in Forks, Washington—but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me. It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now? "Yeah, who cares what they think," I muttered under my breath. "Um, miss?" a man's voice called. I turned, and then wished I hadn't. Two men stood beside a fancy SUV with brand-new kayaks tied to the top. Neither of them was looking at me; they both were staring at the car. Personally, I didn't get it. But then, I was just proud I could distinguish between the symbols for Toyota, Ford, and Chevy. This car was glossy black, sleek, and pretty, but it was still just a car to me. "I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what kind of car you're driving?" the tall one asked. "Um, a Mercedes, right?" "Yes," the man said politely while his shorter friend rolled his eyes at my answer. "I know. But I was wondering, is that…are you driving a Mercedes Guardian?" The man said the name with reverence. I had a feeling this guy would get along well with Edward, my…my fiancé (there really was no getting around that truth with the wedding just days away). "They aren't supposed to be available in Europe yet," the man went on, "let alone here." While his eyes traced the contours of my car—it didn't look much different from any other Mercedes sedan to me, but what did I know?—I briefly contemplated my issues with words like fiancé, wedding, husband, etc. I just couldn't put it together in my head. On the one hand, I had been raised to cringe at the very thought of poofy white dresses and bouquets. But more than that, I just couldn't reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldn't visualize him in any commonplace role. Like always, as soon as I started thinking about Edward I was caught up in a dizzy spin of fantasies. The stranger had to clear his throat to get my attention; he was still waiting for an answer about the car's make and model. "I don't know," I told him honestly. "Do you mind if I take a picture with it?" It took me a second to process that. "Really? You want to take a picture with the car?" "Sure—nobody is going to believe me if I don't get proof." "Um. Okay. Fine." I swiftly put away the nozzle and crept into the front seat to hide while the enthusiast dug a huge professional-looking camera out of his backpack. He and his friend took turns posing by the hood, and then they went to take pictures at the back end. "I miss my truck," I whimpered to myself. Very, very convenient—too convenient—that my truck would wheeze its last wheeze just weeks after Edward and I had agreed to our lopsided compromise, one detail of which was that he be allowed to replace my truck when it passed on. Edward swore it was only to be expected; my truck had lived a long, full life and then expired of natural causes. According to him. And, of course, I had no way to verify his story or to try to raise my truck from the dead on my own. My favorite mechanic— I stopped that thought cold, refusing to let it come to a conclusion. Instead, I listened to the men's voices outside, muted by the car walls. "…went at it with a flame thrower in the online video. Didn't even pucker the paint." "Of course not. You could roll a tank over this baby. Not much of a market for one over here. Designed for Middle East diplomats, arms dealers, and drug lords mostly." "Think she's something?" the short one asked in a softer voice. I ducked my head, cheeks flaming. "Huh," the tall one said. "Maybe. Can't imagine what you'd need missile-proof glass and four thousand pounds of body armor for around here. Must be headed somewhere more hazardous." Body armor. Four thousand pounds of body armor. And missile-proof glass? Nice. What had happened to good old-fashioned bulletproof? Well, at least this made some sense—if you had a twisted sense of humor. It wasn't like I hadn't expected Edward to take advantage of our deal, to weight it on his side so that he could give so much more than he would receive. I'd agreed that he could replace my truck when it needed replacing, not expecting that moment to come quite so soon, of course. When I'd been forced to admit that the truck had become no more than a still-life tribute to classic Chevys on my curb, I knew his idea of a replacement was probably going to embarrass me. Make me the focus of stares and whispers. I'd been right about that part. But even in my darkest imaginings I had not foreseen that he would get me two cars. The "before" car and the "after" car, he'd explained when I'd flipped out. This was just the "before" car. He'd told me it was a loaner and promised that he was returning it after the wedding. It all had made absolutely no sense to me. Until now. Ha ha. Because I was so fragilely human, so accident-prone, so much a victim to my own dangerous bad luck, apparently I needed a tank-resistant car to keep me safe. Hilarious. I was sure he and his brothers had enjoyed the joke quite a bit behind my back. Or maybe, just maybe, a small voice whispered in my head, it's not a joke, silly. Maybe he's really that worried about you. This wouldn't be the first time he's gone a little overboard trying to protect you. I sighed. I hadn't seen the "after" car yet. It was hidden under a sheet in the deepest corner of the Cullens' garage. I knew most people would have peeked by now, but I really didn't want to know. Probably no body armor on that car—because I wouldn't need it after the honeymoon. Virtual indestructibility was just one of the many perks I was looking forward to. The best parts about being a Cullen were not expensive cars and impressive credit cards. "Hey," the tall man called, cupping his hands to the glass in an effort to peer in. "We're done now. Thanks a lot!" "You're welcome," I called back, and then tensed as I started the engine and eased the pedal—ever so gently—down… No matter how many times I drove down the familiar road toward home, I still couldn't make the rain-washed flyers fade into the background. Each one of them, stapled to telephone poles and taped to street signs, was like a fresh slap in the face. A well-deserved slap in the face. My mind was sucked back into the thought I'd interrupted so immediately before. I couldn't avoid it on this road. Not with pictures of my favorite mechanic flashing past me at regular intervals. My best friend. My Jacob. The HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? posters were not Jacob's father's idea. It had been my father, Charlie, who'd printed up the flyers and spread them all over town. And not just Forks, but Port Angeles and Sequim and Hoquiam and Aberdeen and every other town in the Olympic Peninsula… He'd made sure that all the police stations in the state of Washington had the same flyer hanging on the wall, too. His own station had a whole corkboard dedicated to finding Jacob. A corkboard that was mostly empty, much to his disappointment and frustration. My dad was disappointed with more than the lack of response. He was most disappointed with Billy, Jacob's father—and Charlie's closest friend. For Billy's not being more involved with the search for his sixteen-year-old "runaway." For Billy's refusing to put up the flyers in La Push, the reservation on the coast that was Jacob's home. For his seeming resigned to Jacob's disappearance, as if there was nothing he could do. For his saying, "Jacob's grown up now. He'll come home if he wants to." And he was frustrated with me, for taking Billy's side. I wouldn't put up posters, either. Because both Billy and I knew where Jacob was, roughly speaking, and we also knew that no one had seen this boy. The flyers put the usual big, fat lump in my throat, the usual stinging tears in my eyes, and I was glad Edward was out hunting this Saturday. If Edward saw my reaction, it would only make him feel terrible, too. Of course, there were drawbacks to it being Saturday. As I turned slowly and carefully onto my street, I could see my dad's police cruiser in the driveway of our home. He'd skipped fishing again today. Still sulking about the wedding. So I wouldn't be able to use the phone inside. But I had to call…. I parked on the curb behind the Chevy sculpture and pulled the cell phone Edward had given me for emergencies out of the glove compartment. I dialed, keeping my finger on the "end" button as the phone rang. Just in case. "Hello?" Seth Clearwater answered, and I sighed in relief. I was way too chicken to speak to his older sister, Leah. The phrase "bite my head off" was not entirely a figure of speech when it came to Leah. "Hey, Seth, it's Bella." "Oh, hiya, Bella! How are you?" Choked up. Desperate for reassurance. "Fine." "Calling for an update?" "You're psychic." "Not hardly. I'm no Alice—you're just predictable," he joked. Among the Quileute pack down at La Push, only Seth was comfortable even mentioning the Cullens by name, let alone joking about things like my nearly omniscient sister-in-law-to-be. "I know I am." I hesitated for a minute. "How is he?"Seth sighed. "Same as ever. He won't talk, though we know he hears us. He's trying not to think human, you know. Just going with his instincts." "Do you know where he is now?" "Somewhere in northern Canada. I can't tell you which province. He doesn't pay much attention to state lines." "Any hint that he might…" "He's not coming home, Bella. Sorry." I swallowed. "S'okay, Seth. I knew before I asked. I just can't help wishing." "Yeah. We all feel the same way." "Thanks for putting up with me, Seth. I know the others must give you a hard time." "They're not your hugest fans," he agreed cheerfully. "Kind of lame, I think. Jacob made his choices, you made yours. Jake doesn't like their attitude about it. 'Course, he isn't super thrilled that you're checking up on him, either." I gasped. "I thought he wasn't talking to you?" "He can't hide everything from us, hard as he's trying." So Jacob knew I was worried. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Well, at least he knew I hadn't skipped off into the sunset and forgotten him completely. He might have imagined me capable of that. "I guess I'll see you at the…wedding," I said, forcing the word out through my teeth. "Yeah, me and my mom will be there. It was cool of you to ask us." I smiled at the enthusiasm in his voice. Though inviting the Clearwaters had been Edward's idea, I was glad he'd thought of it. Having Seth there would be nice—a link, however tenuous, to my missing best man. "It wouldn't be the same without you." "Tell Edward I said hi, 'kay?" "Sure thing." I shook my head. The friendship that had sprung up between Edward and Seth was something that still boggled my mind. It was proof, though, that things didn't have to be this way. That werewolves and vampires could get along just fine, thank you very much, if they were of a mind to. Not everybody liked this idea. "Ah," Seth said, his voice cracking up an octave. "Er, Leah's home." "Oh! Bye!" The phone went dead. I left it on the seat and prepared myself mentally to go inside the house, where Charlie would be waiting. My poor dad had so much to deal with right now. Jacob-the-runaway was just one of the straws on his overburdened back. He was almost as worried about me, his barely-a-legal-adult daughter who was about to become a Mrs. in just a few days' time. I walked slowly through the light rain, remembering the night we'd told him…. *** As the sound of Charlie's cruiser announced his return, the ring suddenly weighed a hundred pounds on my finger. I wanted to shove my left hand in a pocket, or maybe sit on it, but Edward's cool, firm grasp kept it front and center. "Stop fidgeting, Bella. Please try to remember that you're not confessing to a murder here." "Easy for you to say." I listened to the ominous sound of my father's boots clomping up the sidewalk. The key rattled in the already open door. The sound reminded me of that part of the horror movie when the victim realizes she's forgotten to lock her deadbolt…. "Calm down, Bella," Edward whispered, listening to the acceleration of my heart. The door slammed against the wall, and I flinched like I'd been Tasered. "Hey, Charlie," Edward called, entirely relaxed. "No!" I hissed under my breath. "What?" Edward whispered back. "Wait till he hangs his gun up!" Edward chuckled and ran his free hand through his tousled bronze hair. Charlie came around the corner, still in his uniform, still armed, and tried not to make a face when he spied us sitting together on the loveseat. Lately, he'd been putting forth a lot of effort to like Edward more. Of course, this revelation was sure to end that effort immediately. "Hey, kids. What's up?" "We'd like to talk to you," Edward said, so serene. "We have some good news." Charlie's expression went from strained friendliness to black suspicion in a second. "Good news?" Charlie growled, looking straight at me. "Have a seat, Dad." He raised one eyebrow, stared at me for five seconds, then stomped to the recliner and sat down on the very edge, his back ramrod straight. "Don't get worked up, Dad," I said after a moment of loaded silence. "Everything's okay." Edward grimaced, and I knew it was in objection to the word "okay." He probably would have used something more like "wonderful" or "perfect" or "glorious." "Sure it is, Bella, sure it is. If everything is so great then why are you sweating bullets?" "I'm not sweating," I lied. I leaned away from his fierce scowl, cringing into Edward, and instinctively wiped the back of my right hand across my forehead to remove the evidence. "You're pregnant!" Charlie exploded. "You're pregnant, aren't you?" Though the question was probably meant for me, he was glaring at Edward now, and I could have sworn I saw his hand twitch toward the gun. "No! Of course I'm not!" I wanted to elbow Edward in the ribs, but I knew that move would only give me a bruise. I'd told Edward that people would immediately jump to this conclusion! What other possible reason would sane people have for getting married at eighteen? (His answer then had made me roll my eyes. Love. Right.) Charlie's glower lightened a shade. It was usually pretty clear on my face when I was telling the truth, and he believed me now. "Oh. Sorry." "Apology accepted." There was a long pause. After a moment, I realized everyone was waiting for me to say something. I looked up at Edward, panic-stricken. There was no way I was going to get the words out. He smiled at me and then squared his shoulders and turned to my father. "Charlie, I realize that I've gone about this out of order. Traditionally, I should have asked you first. I mean no disrespect, but since Bella has already said yes and I don't want to diminish her choice in the matter, instead of asking you for her hand, I'm asking you for your blessing. We're getting married, Charlie. I love her more than anything in the world, more than my own life, and—by some miracle—she loves me that way, too. Will you give us your blessing?" He sounded so sure, so calm. For just an instant, listening to the absolute confidence in his voice, I experienced a rare moment of insight. I could see, fleetingly, the way the world looked to him. For the length of one heartbeat, this news made perfect sense. And then I caught sight of the expression on Charlie's face, his eyes now locked on the ring. I held my breath while his skin changed colors—fair to red, red to purple, purple to blue. I started to get up—I'm not sure what I planned to do; maybe use the Heimlich maneuver to make sure he wasn't choking—but Edward squeezed my hand and murmured "Give him a minute" so low that only I could hear. The silence was much longer this time. Then, gradually, shade by shade, Charlie's color returned to normal. His lips pursed, and his eyebrows furrowed; I recognized his "deep in thought" expression. He studied the two of us for a long moment, and I felt Edward relax at my side. "Guess I'm not that surprised," Charlie grumbled. "Knew I'd have to deal with something like this soon enough." I exhaled. "You sure about this?" Charlie demanded, glaring at me. "I'm one hundred percent sure about Edward," I told him without missing a beat. "Getting married, though? What's the rush?" He eyed me suspiciously again. The rush was due to the fact that I was getting closer to nineteen every stinking day, while Edward stayed frozen in all his seventeen-year-old perfection. Not that this fact necessitated marriage in my book, but the wedding was required due to the delicate and tangled compromise Edward and I had made to get to this point, the brink of my transformation from mortal to immortal. These weren't things I could explain to Charlie. "We're going away to Dartmouth together in the fall, Charlie," Edward reminded him. "I'd like to do that, well, the right way. It's how I was raised." He shrugged. He wasn't exaggerating; they'd been big on old-fashioned morals during World War I. Charlie's mouth twisted to the side. Looking for an angle to argue from. But what could he say? I'd prefer you live in sin first? He was a dad; his hands were tied. "Knew this was coming," he muttered to himself, frowning. Then, suddenly, his face went perfectly smooth and blank. "Dad?" I asked anxiously. I glanced at Edward, but I couldn't read his face, either, as he watched Charlie. "Ha!" Charlie exploded. I jumped in my seat. "Ha, ha, ha!" I stared incredulously as Charlie doubled over in laughter; his whole body shook with it. I looked at Edward for a translation, but Edward had his lips pressed tightly together, like he was trying to hold back laughter himself. "Okay, fine," Charlie choked out. "Get married." Another roll of laughter shook through him. "But…" "But what?" I demanded. "But you have to tell your mom! I'm not saying one word to Renee! That's all yours!" He busted into loud guffaws. *** I paused with my hand on the doorknob, smiling. Sure, at the time, his words had terrified me. The ultimate doom: telling Renée. Early marriage was higher up on her black list than boiling live puppies. Who could have foreseen her response? Not me. Certainly not Charlie. Maybe Alice, but I hadn't thought to ask her. "Well, Bella," Renée had said after I'd choked and stuttered out the impossible words: Mom, I'm marrying Edward. "I'm a little miffed that you waited so long to tell me. Plane tickets only get more expensive. Oooh," she'd fretted. "Do you think Phil's cast will be off by then? It will spoil the pictures if he's not in a tux—" "Back up a second, Mom." I'd gasped. "What do you mean, waited so long? I just got en-en…"—I'd been unable to force out the word engaged— "things settled, you know, today." "Today? Really? That is a surprise. I assumed.…" "What did you assume? When did you assume?" "Well, when you came to visit me in April, it looked like things were pretty much sewn up, if you know what I mean. You're not very hard to read, sweetie. But I didn't say anything because I knew it wouldn't do any good. You're exactly like Charlie." She'd sighed, resigned. "Once you make up your mind, there is no reasoning with you. Of course, exactly like Charlie, you stick by your decisions, too." And then she'd said the last thing that I'd ever expected to hear from my mother. "You're not making my mistakes, Bella. You sound like you're scared silly, and I'm guessing it's because you're afraid of me." She'd giggled. "Of what I'm going to think. And I know I've said a lot of things about marriage and stupidity—and I'm not taking them back—but you need to realize that those things specifically applied to me. You're a completely different person than I am. You make your own kinds of mistakes, and I'm sure you'll have your share of regrets in life. But commitment was never your problem, sweetie. You have a better chance of making this work than most forty-year-olds I know." Renée had laughed again. "My little middle-aged child. Luckily, you seem to have found another old soul." "You're not…mad? You don't think I'm making a humongous mistake?" "Well, sure I wish you'd wait a few more years. I mean, do I look old enough to be a mother-in-law to you? Don't answer that. But this isn't about me. This is about you. Are you happy?" "I don't know. I'm having an out-of-body experience right now." Renée had chuckled. "Does he make you happy, Bella?" "Yes, but—" "Are you ever going to want anyone else?" "No, but—" "But what?" "But aren't you going to say that I sound exactly like every other infatuated teenager since the dawn of time?" "You've never been a teenager, sweetie. You know what's best for you." For the last few weeks, Renée had unexpectedly immersed herself in wedding plans. She'd spent hours every day on the phone with Edward's mother, Esme—no worries about the in-laws getting along. Renée adored Esme, but then, I doubted anyone could help responding that way to my lovable almost-mother-in-law. It let me right off the hook. Edward's family and my family were taking care of the nuptials together without mm having to do or know or think too hard about any of it. Charlie was furious, of course, but the sweet part was that he wasn't furious at me. Renée was the traitor. He'd counted on her to play the heavy. What could he do now, when his ultimate threat—telling Mom—had turned out to be utterly empty? He had nothing, and he knew it. So he moped around the house, muttering things about not being able to trust anyone in this world… "Dad?" I called as I pushed open the front door. "I'm home." "Hold on, Bells, stay right there." "Huh?" I asked, pausing automatically. "Gimme a second. Ouch, you got me, Alice." Alice? "Sorry, Charlie," Alice's trilling voice responded. "How's that?" "I'm bleeding on it." You're fine. Didn't break the skin—trust me." "What's going on?" I demanded, hesitating in the doorway. "Thirty seconds, please, Bella," Alice told me. "Your patience will be rewarded." "Humph," Charlie added. I tapped my foot, counting each beat. Before I got to thirty, Alice said, "Okay, Bella, come in!" Moving with caution, I rounded the little corner into our living room. "Oh," I huffed. "Aw. Dad. Don't you look—" "Silly?" Charlie interrupted. "I was thinking more like 'debonair.'" Charlie blushed. Alice took his elbow and tugged him around into a slow spin to showcase the pale gray tux. "Now cut that out, Alice. I look like an idiot." "No one dressed by me ever looks like an idiot." "She's right, Dad. You look fabulous! What's the occasion?" Alice rolled her eyes. "It's the final check on the fit. For both of you." I peeled my gaze off the unusually elegant Charlie for the first time and saw the dreaded white garment bag laid carefully across the sofa. "Aaah." "Go to your happy place, Bella. It won't take long." I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. Keeping them shut, I stumbled my way up the stairs to my room. I stripped down to my underwear and held my arms straight out. "You'd think I was shoving bamboo splinters under your nails," Alice muttered to herself as she followed me in. I paid no attention to her. I was in my happy place. In my happy place, the whole wedding mess was over and done. Behind me. Already repressed and forgotten. We were alone, just Edward and me. The setting was fuzzy and constantly in flux—it morphed from misty forest to cloud-covered city to arctic night—because Edward was keeping the location of our honeymoon a secret to surprise me. But I wasn't especially concerned about the where part. Edward and I were together, and I'd fulfilled my side of our compromise perfectly. I'd married him. That was the big one. But I'd also accepted all his outrageous gifts and was registered, however futilely, to attend Dartmouth College in the fall. Now it was his turn. Before he turned me into a vampire—his big compromise—he had one other stipulation to make good on. Edward had an obsessive sort of concern over the human things that I would be giving up, the experiences he didn't want me to miss. But there was only one experience I was insisting on. Of course it would be the one he wished I would forget all about. Here was the thing, though. I knew what I was going to be like when it was all over. I'd seen newborn vampires firsthand, and I'd heard all my family-to-be's stories about those wild early days. For several years, my biggest personality trait was going to be "thirsty." It would take some time before I could be me again. And even when I was in control of myself, I would never feel exactly the way I felt now. Human…and passionately in love. I wanted the complete experience before I traded in my warm, breakable, pheromone-riddled body for something beautiful, strong…and unknown. I wanted a real honeymoon with Edward. And, despite the danger he feared this would put me in, he'd agreed to try. I was only vaguely aware of Alice and the slip and slide of satin over my skin. I didn't care, for the moment, that the whole town was talking about me. I didn't think about the spectacle I would have to star in much too soon. I didn't worry about tripping on my train or giggling at the wrong moment or being too young or the staring audience or even the empty seat where my best friend should be. I was with Edward in my happy place.
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Chapter OneForks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together-their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond - a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps - all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself - and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close. When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty - it was very clear, almost translucent- looking - but it all depended on color. I had no color here. Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here? I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning. I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle. Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage. Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at - I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable. I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - which had the feel of a biohazard suit - and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected. Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors? I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door. Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed. The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?" "I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last. "Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me. She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck. I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door. The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not an encouraging response - and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bront?, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting ... and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on. When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. "You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type. "Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. "Where's your next class?" he asked. I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six." There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. "I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way...." Definitely over- helpful. "I'm Eric," he added. I smiled tentatively. "Thanks." We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid. "So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked. "Very." "It doesn't rain much there, does it?" "Three or four times a year." "Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered. "Sunny," I told him. "You don't look very tan." "My mother is part albino." He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm. We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked. "Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. I smiled at him vaguely and went inside. The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map. One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention. They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big - muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes - purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. They were all looking away - away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray - unopened soda, unbitten apple - and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging. "Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten. As she looked up to see who I meant - though already knowing, probably, from my tone - suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest - it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer. My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. "That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath. I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them. Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here - small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home. "They are ... very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement. "Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. ![]() $0.17 Rewards
Street Date: Tuesday, July 20, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 20, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 20, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Chapter One
Kendra sat up in her bed on a strangled gasp, her hand outflung to ward off the danger she’d dreamed of. Before she could shake off sleep enough to call Renee to check on her sister, her phone rang.
She scrambled to grab it as the dream wore off and set her free.
“Yes? What’s happening?”
“Kendra, can you come over please?”
Kendra shoved her hair from her eyes, getting out of bed and yanking pants on. “Jack?” she asked, recognizing her brother-in-law’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“Renee’s had a dream. She’s upset and she won’t talk about it without you.”
“Give me a few minutes. I’m on my way.”
“Max is on his way to your apartment right now. I’d send one of my men, but he’s closer and obviously capable of protecting you. Don’t leave until you know it’s him.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she managed to say as she pulled on her bra and then a shirt. Max. A delicious warmth pushed away some of her panic. Still, it wasn’t time for adolescent mooning over a boy she could never have. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Kendra, your sister will kill me if something happens to you because you were attacked.” Jack’s voice lost some of its bite. “She’s safe now. I know you’re worried. Just sit tight. Please?”
She smiled, knowing he couldn’t see her and also that he loved her sister with a ferocity she’d only ever seen in a shifter. For such an alpha male to break down and plead only made her more worried about her sister even as it pleased her that he clearly adored Renee.
She sighed. “Fine. Just keep her awake and don’t let anyone inside until I arrive. If he’s not here in five minutes, I’m going without him.”
His sigh was way less tired and more agitated.
“What? Come on, Jack, I’m worried about her and she’s there and I’m here. I can’t wait all night. I’m worried. All right?”
“All right. And Kendra?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“I love my sister. It’s not a thing.”
She hung up and put on shoes while she brushed her teeth quickly. Max de La Vega was one of the hottest men she’d ever laid eyes on, the least she could do was not look like a hag when he arrived. They’d exchanged some looks. Mild flirting. Renee had told her he was dating a woman, another jaguar shifter, but had broken things off a few months back. Renee seemed to think it was about Kendra. She’d love to believe that, but he was not her normal fare. Like a five-star restaurant with all the dollar signs and she was that little pho shop down the hill that everyone loved because it was good and fit a budget.
Hm. That didn’t necessarily sound right. But whatever, it was an argument she was having in her head, who would judge?
She heard the purr of an engine and looked out to the street where Max had just pulled up. Not bad. Four of the five minutes she’d given Jack. He probably drove like a crazy person, which given the situation, she appreciated as she jogged down the inner stairs and outside to meet him.
He—good sweet heavens—looked soooo good standing there on her stoop she nearly forgot her sister was in trouble.
“Did you look through the peephole before you came barreling out here?” he asked her in that voice, the voice she’d been thinking about since she’d first heard it nearly four months before. A rumble, a growl and sometimes if she was very lucky, nearly a purr.
Still, hello, she wasn’t a five-year-old.
“Nope. I rushed out here with dollar bills pinned to my shirt.”
He snorted, a smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. “Come on then, car’s right there.”
If by car, one meant a sleek, black jaguar. Which, okay, she laughed and he looked at her sideways.
“What?” He hustled her inside the still-running car, and he lectured her about opening her door? “You’re a black jaguar, am I not supposed to notice your car is too?”
Without asking, he reached over and belted her in before squealing away. “Watch the upholstery, you’re going to rip it to shreds.”
“If you didn’t drive like a maniac I wouldn’t have to hold on so tight. Also, you left your car running! You lectured me on opening my door, which yes, I did look out first, I’m not a moron, and your car was unlocked and running on a city street in Boston at three in the morning.”
“Who’s going to steal from me, Kendra? Hmm?”
He had a point she supposed. “It’s not like a thief is going to know you’re some super-dooper alpha jaguar shifter.”
He laughed then. “Oh little witch, you’re so smart and powerful and yet, naïve sometimes. Predators always know other predators. Or they become prey.”
Oh.
“I’m nearly five nine, I’m not little.”
“You are compared to me.”
Hmpf. If he wasn’t eleven feet tall that wouldn’t be true. Then again, if he wasn’t six and a half feet tall of delicious chocolate skin, he wouldn’t be as ridiculously sexy as he was. Which would be a shame because he was the fodder for many of her best masturbatory fantasies.
“Why are you on guard duty anyway?” She pretended to ignore the way he drove all while fervently thanking the universe for airbags.
“Galen asked. It was you. I came.”
It was her? Really? What did he mean? That she was Renee’s sister and so his relation? Or her specifically because he had fantasy wankfests about her? Gah, okay, she didn’t need to go down that road just then. They turned onto Renee’s street, and she tensed, holding her bag ready.
“Hold on, babe. No need to hurt yourself jumping from a moving car,” he said, screeching to a stop.
“Babe?”
“I could call you sexy if you prefer.”
She huffed an annoyed breath, swinging her door open and jumping out. “I’m not that girl, Max de La Vega.”
“Dream on, Kendra. You are and more,” he murmured as he got out on his side, making her all flustered. Several times over the last few weeks he’d turned her into goo with silly things. The way he looked at her, or some tossed-out comment.
At first he’d sort of been wary, but friendly. Slowly though, it had felt as if he’d begun to focus on her in an altogether new and non-related sort of way. His attention wasn’t so much off-putting, but intense. He had a way of looking at her, intimate, as if he brushed her skin with his lips as he stared.
They were all that way, the shifter males, no matter the rank, they were intense beings. They paid attention on a level she hadn’t thought existed.
This one in particular also had a way of moving like there wasn’t a damned thing in the universe capable of scaring him. He owned every single step he took. Simply expected everyone to pay attention and be there when he needed it. Like the way he handed his keys off to Gibson, Max and Galen’s brother and the Bringer of the jamboree, who tossed them to another guy who drove off without a word.
Cripes, there were at least six shifters out in front of the house, all on guard. Their magick filled the area with loam and fur. Her magick always rose in the presence of Weres, it flowed around her like a warm breeze.
Gibson cleared people from the base of the steps and nodded at Kendra. “They’re inside waiting.” Gibson rarely said much, but damn he was pretty to look at.
Two extra-large males flanked them, leading them into the house. She really had no idea how Renee could take all this coddling and manhandling. It drove her nuts.
“Come on up. Renee is waiting for you.” Galen motioned to her and she pushed past the guards to jog up the stairs to her sister.
“She’s in the bedroom,” Jack stood at the door, directing her inside.
Renee was there, sitting in the bed, her eyes wide, glossy from unshed tears. Kendra went to her, hugging her tight. Their connection snapped into place, filling Kendra with the warmth of their like magick.
“Shhh. I’m here. You’re here.” Kendra pushed the hair from Renee’s face. “No one else is.” She knew her sister would always carry the fear that something or someone had gotten inside her. Who wouldn’t be after her experiences in the last several months?
“You sure?”
She nodded. “Would you like me to scan you again? And the room too?” She could simply barge in and see herself, but Kendra believed very strongly that it was a violation of her gifts to not seek permission to use her magick on another person in anything other than self-defense.
“You can do that?”
“We have something called othersight. Some of us have more than others. It’s like you with healing, right? Each of us has a unique set of gifts. We talked about this before, and I think you’re coming along so well I can teach you.”
“Then yes, please.”
She stood and went to where Jack guarded the open door. The place had filled up with so much alpha shifter it stirred her blood and messed with her concentration.
“I need to close the door. There’s a lot of energy out there. It’s like white noise. You can stay in here, or just on the other side. All right?”
He nodded once, his gaze returning to Renee, who smiled at him, relaxing the rigidity of his spine a bit.
“Whatever you need.”
She closed the door after squeezing his hand.
“Okay then.” Kendra reached inside herself, unlocking the door to the well of her magick, letting it flow outward to fill the room. Through the eyes of her magick, she saw nothing but Renee’s energy, green and vibrant, connected in a thousand ways with Galen and Jack. Their bond was written all over her, all over the space. That protected her.
There was nothing else inside her sister, but her sister. Though she could see the marks made by Renee’s past and whoever had manipulated her memories. It had scarred her, but Renee would heal.
She opened her eyes, letting the energy swirl back to where it belonged. “It’s just you inside. There’s something outside. A shadow of something. I can’t tell yet if it’s old or new. But what’s in here, it’s not dark like before. The wards will hold.” A shadow was a whisper beyond the wards and Kendra had a feeling that’s what had awoken her from a dead sleep just a few minutes before.
“Thank goodness. I dreamed she knew. I dreamed, no, not dreamed. Kendra, she, Susan, had something to do with Mom’s murder. She knew and they did something to me. They put something in me to make me forget.”
Kendra’s breath gusted from her lips. “Your memory came back?”
“Not all. But parts. I was on the swing set in the backyard and they were talking about Mom being dead. Talking about what to do with me. He knew. He was in on it. Our father had something to do with her murder.” Renee’s gaze had been on the past, but it sharpened, focusing on Kendra’s face. “You knew it.”
“Not for certain, no. But it felt logical. Logical that the way he’d acted pointed to his guilt on some level.” She hadn’t mentioned it because her sister hadn’t been ready to hear it. But the man had abandoned an infant and then had disowned another for daring to ask questions about her own past. That had guilt stamped all over it as far as Kendra was concerned.
“We need to call the police.” Renee sat up, stronger now that she’d been given the all clear.
“The police can’t help us and you know it. You need to drink that tea and go back to sleep. We don’t know where he is yet. Rosemary and Mary have been working on finding accurate locator spells. We’ve tried a few, but they haven’t worked so far. There’s nothing we can do right now but be patient.”
Jack tapped on the door, poking his head in. “Is she all right?”
“Some of our aunt’s spell is working. Her memories are unknotting, rising to the surface. This happens while we sleep a lot because our consciousness is at rest. She’s all right. The house is clear, the wards are holding.”
“What can we do?” Galen came in, pressing a mug into Kendra’s hands before moving to Renee and giving another to her. “Drink it.”
“He was part of her murder,” Renee said softly. Kendra didn’t have to ask who he was. Renee had just told her their father had a part in their mother’s murder. A fact Kendra had long suspected.
Kendra settled in and tried to stay patient.
“The memory… I was on the swings in the backyard. She came out, Susan, and they talked about Mom, how she was dead. They started talking about me. She said Mom had written spells into my skin, into muscle and bone, and they couldn’t kill me. He-he said she should put a pillow over my face.” Renee’s voice broke and Kendra wanted to hurt their father very much.
“He’ll get what’s due him. I promise you that.” Kendra meant every word. What had happened to their mother needed to be avenged. What they’d done to Renee, and to Kendra. They needed to pay and they would.
“Susan told him they could drain me for years. They broke my memories.”
And Susan had been drawing from her since. A chill passed through Kendra at that. “It’s what kept you alive. That and the wards Mom made for you. It also means we know for sure Susan is a mage. She’s stealing magic.”
“We have laws for dealing with thieves and murderers.” Jack took a deep breath as he drew his fingertips along Renee’s temple. “And anyone who dares to hurt those weaker, like women and children, have a special place in hell. I’m going to kill them both to underline that point.”
Kendra patted his arm. “We have to find them first. I’m working on it with Mary, my teacher. It’s a matter of finding the right, um…” she paused, searching for the right word, “…frequency. That’s not it exactly, but it’s close enough.” Her head began to hurt, and she remembered she had to be up in a few hours to get ready for her third day of work. She had been building a normal life and it wouldn’t do to be late to this great new job. “I’m going to go back home. She’s shaken up, but aside from that, she’s fine.”
Kendra leaned down to hug her sister. “I’ll be here after work for our lessons. There’s no reason to be any more vigilant than you were yesterday. But still reason to be on your guard. You’re safe here and safe at work. Don’t let him win.”
“I’m sorry for dragging you out here when you have to be at work so early.”
Kendra laughed at her sister. “You have to be up even earlier than I do. Anyway, that’s what family does. I love you. You needed me and I came. End of story.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Galen looked to Jack. “Get her settled, I’ll keep the guards. Can’t see wasting them since they’re here already.”
“Great. More guards.” Renee frowned.
They couldn’t protect her anyway if the attack was a magickal one done over a distance. Still, Kendra knew despite her sister’s annoyance, she felt safer in the presence of Galen or Jack and the guards. Kendra didn’t blame her either.
“Stop whining. I’ll see you later today.”
“Love you! Hey, how’d you get here so fast?”
“Max brought me.”
Renee looked to her and back to Galen. “Don’t forget she rode over with someone. Make sure she’s taken care of.”
Galen merely stared at Renee for a long moment and she grinned sheepishly. “Right. I’m sure that’s already done because I’m married to the most efficient and careful men on the entire planet.”
“Precisely.” Galen winked and escorted Kendra out to the main room where Max reclined on a chair, very much the king he was in line to be. Relaxed. On the surface. But Kendra had felt his power from the other side of the door in Renee’s bedroom. Even then as he sat on the chair, she saw the tension there, the energy bound up in his muscles, waiting to strike if and when it was necessary.
“No one would ever steal a car from him.” This made her a bit cranky as her car had been stolen just the week before and found totally trashed some sixty miles west.
Galen looked at her askance for a moment. “Max? Hell no. No one would dare.”
She started to laugh, but then the snap of Max’s attention landed on her and all she could do was stare at him as he stared at her.
In the background she knew Galen spoke. Max answered. Other big giant males stalked around looking menacing. Funny how Kendra had found herself used to, even comforted by, at times, the new reality of her life in Boston.
![]() $0.20 Rewards
Street Date: Saturday, August 21, 2010 Street Date: Saturday, August 21, 2010 Street Date: Saturday, August 21, 2010 Street Date: Saturday, August 21, 2010 Sensing the line was about to move, Morrigan looked forward and pressed the emerald on her finger two times to take a quick picture of the waiting women for her article. The recorder in her eye blinked black, signifying it was working. Later, she would be able to download the images.
Outside the ship, she could see the soft glow of crackling firelight from a giant bonfire pit. The smell of burning wood mingled with nature’s exotic perfume. The Qurilixian moon overhead was large and bright, the biggest moon she had ever seen standing on a planet’s surface. The bonfire flames lapped at the starry night, sending sparks into the cool air. She could not see into the distance, she noticed, and only got a vague impression of a mountain.
Morrigan stepped forward and the cheers of rowdy men on the festival ground washed over her. Morrigan blushed despite herself, feeling almost naked in her ‘sacrificial’ attire.
The grounds were set up with large pyramid tents. Torches lit dim earthen pathways. Ribbons and banners floated on the breeze in many brilliant colors. Near the back, the married men sat in throne-like chairs with their wives firmly upon their laps. Morrigan was happy to discover that her information so far seemed correct. By their long hair and tunic style clothing, they appeared very much like the Vikings. The married women could be heard laughing as they watched the spectacle of those barbarians too young to participate in this year’s festival shout and pose for the prospective brides.
Morrigan swallowed nervously. Some of the women in front of her modeled before the watching crowd. She had the sudden urge to walk around them in an attempt to avoid the direct stage the docking platform had become. Dealing with slime-dwelling slugs was one thing--but humanoids? And not just any humanoids--strong, virile, women-starved, healthy, male humanoids. At the last minute, she remembered to snap a picture of the married couples and of the campgrounds.
"Oh, my!" exclaimed Gena in a breathless murmur, leaning forward to peer over Morrigan’s shoulder. "Do you see them, Rigan? With men like that, who cares if you marry the gardener?"
Morrigan followed the woman’s eyes, curiously looking down the docking plank to the ground. The bachelors, standing below them, were indeed handsome. Although those behind the men laughed and a few continued to pose their muscles, the true bachelors held perfectly still. Their bronzed bodies were like statues, with only their lungs expanding and contracting to show they lived.
Morrigan wanted to run back inside. Her feet refused to move. That was until Gena gave her an eager shove to get her descending down the plank.
The Qurilixian males were every inch the proud warrior class they were rumored to be, some even seemed to tower nearly seven feet tall in height. Fur loincloths wrapped around their fit waists to leave bare their muscular legs and chests. The fire glistened off their smooth, oiled skin. Golden bands of intricate design clasped around sinewy biceps. From their solid necks hung crystals bound with leather straps.
Morrigan’s heart began to pound, partly in fear and partly in excitement. The sexual tension on the ship had been potent for the last month. Until that moment, Morrigan had been able to resist its lurid pull. But there was something to being at the campground--something erotic in its smell of burning wood and its rustic, yet colorful, sights. Music played, primal and earthy in the background, hypnotic, enticing, gyrating in its rhythms.
Black leather masks covered the men’s faces, hiding them from forehead to upper lip. Their lustful eyes shone bright from the eye slits, like liquid metal, or was it her imagination? Morrigan didn’t know.
Captured by a spell, she suddenly realized she was walking down an aisle made up of hot flesh on each side. They were so tall that the crowd behind them disappeared from view. She glanced to one side and then the other. Her heart continued to pound. Blood rushed inside her ears, deafening her.
Somehow, her feet managed to keep moving, propelling her forward in line. The watching crowd had gotten quiet as the bachelors studied the women, concentrating on them with their serious eyes and harshly pressed lips. Then her heart--and time--stopped. Her breath caught in her throat at meeting a solid blue gaze beneath a mask. The man’s eyes narrowed and a slow, leisurely smile commanded her attention to his lips. The crystal about his neck began to pulse and glow with a white light.
Morrigan felt the cool night breeze caress the tops of her breasts, as real as a hand against her skin. Chills worked their way over her bare throat and face. Her short, blue veil fluttered over her dark locks. Her hand lifted without her commanding it to, as if to reach out. It was held back by the silk shackles of her belt.
Blinking slowly, the man nodded at her in greeting. She turned her head to watch as she passed by him. His smile dropped from his features, replaced by passionate intent and electrifying promises. Morrigan shivered as her heart began to race anew.
As she moved forward through the remaining line of men, she looked around. The others were handsome, but none caught her notice or returned her gaze for very long. And none were as spellbinding as the man with the radiant blue eyes had been. She wondered at the curious feeling in her veins each time she thought of it. She wanted to look back, but her neck refused to turn. He was so like all the others and yet somehow different.
Making her way to a raised platform laden with a gigantic feast, Morrigan forgot all about the emerald on her finger and her newspaper assignment. ![]() $0.14 Rewards
Street Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 10, 2010 Chapter One
A shot of lust hit him hard as he looked into the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Jamie cleared his throat, striving to distract his body before his involuntary reaction became too noticeable.
“Can I help you?” The blonde held on to the door, blinking up at him, her soft voice tickling the nerves along the back of his neck.
Could she help him? Holy hell, he wished she were the reason he’d come. “I’m looking for Ms. Colten. I had an appointment to categorize the artifacts her late husband had gathered.”
A confused expression crossed the young woman’s face before she blasted him with an earthshaking smile. “Oh, you mean Lady Victoria. She doesn’t live here anymore. She’s moved into an apartment in town. Ms. Alexia lives here now, and her husbands aren’t dead.”
Jamie dragged his gaze off her and the amazing objects visible just over her shoulder in the background. The house overflowed with enticing treasures, but he needed to concentrate a little harder until the preliminary welcome was over. He must have misheard her.
“Could I speak with Ms. Alexia then?” he asked.
“She’s on her honeymoon. I’m watching the house. What’s your name?”
He stared into her pure, sweet face, absolutely mesmerized.
“Jamie Powell.” Skin like porcelain, delicate eyelashes. He patted his pockets absently. “I have ID if you’d like. I was hired to do an inventory and assessment on Blain Colten’s diving collection. Joshua Marley contracted me. Is he here?”
She hesitated for a second. “No, he’s gone too. Ummm, he’s…traveling.”
A door opened behind the woman and a man easily six foot seven stepped through. Rock-solid muscles flexed as he strode closer. His head was shaved clean and between him and the woman Jamie felt like he’d walked onto the set of a Beautiful People magazine shoot. He’d never seen a more attractive pair.
“Chelsea, did you need me to pick up any groceries while I’m in town?” The soft expression on the man’s face tightened and his voice sharpened as his dark brown eyes focused on Jamie. “Can I help you?”
Jamie wondered what he’d done to annoy the giant. He managed to pull a business card from his pocket and present it.
“He said he’s here to do an assessment,” Chelsea offered.
“I’m looking for Joshua Marley or Alexia Colten. I’m supposed to work on a marine-artifact collection.” Jamie found himself staring at the woman again. A faint scent of perfume wafted over and his mouth watered. Damn, everything about her was attractive.
The tall newcomer stepped between them.
“They’re on their honeymoon,” the giant answered briskly. He gently nudged Chelsea aside, prodding her in the direction of the open room behind him. She wandered backward from the door, her gaze meeting Jamie’s as she gave a mischievous wink. His heartbeat increased. He returned her smile before glancing up to see a disapproving glare drilling into him.
Jamie shook his head, partly to dislodge the images that had filled it—all involving him and the blue-eyed beauty—and partly because he really was having difficulties hearing today. “I thought Ms. Colten was on her honeymoon and Mr. Marley was traveling?”
The other man stared at him. Measuring him. Jamie stood his ground and stared back, refusing to fold under the intimidation. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Thinking erotic thoughts about the blonde didn’t mean he’d actually trespassed.
Yet.
The giant thrust out a hand. “Braden Marley. I think I saw something about you on the schedule they left. Come on in and I’ll take a look.” He yanked open the door and gestured toward the living room. Jamie strolled in, his jaw falling open as he observed the piles and piles of artifacts that lined the walls of the rooms and littered every available space. Barnacle-encrusted trucks, shiny coins and shipware. Books, boxes, Japanese glass floats and more. He’d been to many homes with nautical collections, but never one as full as this. There was a literal treasure trove within the house walls. First glance revealed a potential fortune buried amidst the usual garbage. He rotated in a circle, his mind racing to calculate where to start, how to best work through the sea of items. He rubbed his hands together, forcing down the laughter of delight rising from deep inside.
This was going to be a job he could really enjoy.
“Are you staying for long, Jamie?” He jerked in surprise to find Chelsea standing next to him, near enough that the heat of her body brushed him, scalding his senses. Her eyes widened as if shocked to find they were so close. She stepped back and stumbled. He grasped her arms, halting her fall and pulling her back to vertical. Her palms rested gently on his chest and something powerful overtook him and wormed its way into his brain. He wanted to tackle her and take her down on the nearest surface, bury himself in her warmth and softness. She whimpered, an expression of longing crossing her face. She slid her hands upward to clutch his neck and he involuntarily leaned closer.
Their bodies touched and a groan of desire escaped him. Bright eyes met his and she lifted her chin in invitation before drawing their mouths together.
The taste of her shot through him like one-hundred-proof whiskey. His senses spun and his tongue darted out to dip again into the sweet nectar of her mouth. She kissed back, their tongues dueling, hands tugging them tighter together until there was no way she could be unaware of his erection swelling against her belly.
He clasped her close, feasting on her mouth, unable to stop the driving desire to consume her that raced through him. She stepped backward and he followed her siren call, falling together onto the overstuffed sofa. She hummed with approval, nipping at his chin, licking his earlobe.
Jamie dropped his teeth to her neckline, sucking, biting, feeling the urgent need to mark her. He tugged at the waist of her shirt, his fingers brushing skin that seared him with heat, the compulsion to join with her growing sharper, pulsing throughout his entire body.
“Chelsea!” Braden barked from across the room.
The outburst broke through the sexual haze enveloping him, and Jamie shot upright. He yanked his hands back, scrambling away from where Chelsea sprawled on the sofa, her hair rumpled, her top crawling up her belly to expose where his hands had slipped under the soft material in an attempt to cup her breasts. His mind swirled with confusion and a healthy dose of lust.
What the hell was he doing? “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m—”
“It’s okay, Jamie.” Braden clasped his arm and dragged him into the kitchen, muttering curses under his breath. When the door slammed shut behind them, Braden continued in a far calmer and gentler tone. “I found you on the calendar. How about you start tomorrow? I know Alexia hoped you’d be able to sort out what’s valuable and what can be given away before she gets home. While her Gram didn’t mind living in the chaos, Alexia is more organized.”
Jamie heard all the words, but they jangled in his mind, twisted and confusing. What had just happened?
Braden held out a glass of water, watching him with a piercing gaze. “Here, have a drink. You must have gotten too much sun en route. Jaffrey’s Cove is a bit off the beaten track.”
Jamie accepted the glass and sipped slowly. He didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with him, except for wanting the woman he’d met only moments before. Wanting her badly enough he was tempted to return to the other room and take her, kissing the mouth that had pouted at him and Braden as they retreated. Rip up her tank top to suckle the breasts that arched against him as they’d tumbled onto the couch. Bury his face between her legs and…
Damn. Maybe there was something wrong with him—this was not his usual behavior. While he liked the ladies well enough, he was a reasonable man. Attacking a woman at a potential job site was not his modus operandi, especially not in front of an obvious guardian the size of a tanker.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead then gave a tentative shrug. “I’m really sorry. There’s no excuse for my behavior. I’m thankful you didn’t throw me out of the house. I have no idea what came over me.”
Braden gave a wry smile. “Seriously, forget about it. No harm done, and trust me, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll make sure Chelsea behaves herself while you’re around.”
Chelsea rolled off the couch and fled down the hall to her temporary bedroom, spinning past the doorway and clutching the dresser as her heart continued to race. Every nerve was sensitized to the point of aching and she took long, slow breaths to regain control.
Damn merfolk hormones were going to kill her.
Once her heart rate dropped, she slipped to the door to listen for the men to return from the kitchen into the main part of the house. Even though he wasn’t speaking to her, Braden’s deep husky voice made her shiver. The stranger—Jamie—answered and she peeked out her door to try and sense if he was okay. Guilt flushed her. She hadn’t intended to hit him with the sexual mojo, but damn it, she was so frustrated it had leaked out involuntarily. She’d never had an accident like that before, and she regretted her actions, unintended as they were. He’d responded way faster and harder than the last human she’d been around. The chain reaction between them had been impossible to shut down.
Curiosity made her sneak out to watch the men wander the living room. She leaned on the wall in the shadows, staying out of sight but enjoying the view. The visual feast not twenty feet from her was mouth-watering. The two men were very different, but the contrast was appealing and for a minute she was tempted to go and try to seduce them both.
Holy crap. Her out-of-control libido was talking again. Insanity lurked from staying in the same house as Braden, trying not to let him know how much she really wanted him.
She let her gaze trail over the object of her obsession. For ten years she’d watched him. From her first crush as a teen, to her current insistent urge to jump his bones, there was more to appreciate every time she looked. His broad shoulders stretched his shirt to the point of ripping the seams. His sheriff’s uniform fit to a tee, snug in the most interesting places, his crotch drawing her attention even when he wasn’t aroused. His solid thigh muscles flexed the fabric as he led Jamie to another section of the room, pointing something out along the wall. Tall, smooth, infinitely edible. Damn, she wanted a piece of him even though he was the stubbornest son of a bitch alive.
Jamie knelt to touch a pile of books, and Chelsea admired him as well. He wasn’t as big as Braden but just as firm, just as intriguing. Shoulder-length blond hair, made slightly messy when her fingers had run through it. Blue-gray eyes, fair skin. The feel of his body under the expensive clothing he wore—there had been nothing wrong with his reaction to their bit of mutual groping. She sighed. Too bad it probably had been chemically induced on his part.
Her sex throbbed for a second as she thought about being pressed between both men. A wave of jealousy hit as she remembered her new best friend, Alexia, was currently off sexing it up with her two lovers.
Some people had all the luck.
The sound of the front door shutting woke her from the distraction of imagining what Alexia and her husbands were currently doing. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the living room to face the music.
“What the hell was that about?” Braden stormed up to her, all but shaking his finger in her face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m frustrated, and I lost control.” She kept her head down, her eyes away from his. She bit her lip to resist moaning as the scent of his skin hit her. Her reaction to him was getting tougher to resist, and she didn’t want to be shot down again. It had hurt too much the last time.
“Well, you need to work on better control, especially for when you leave Jaffrey’s Cove. I’m certainly not going to blame Jamie for reacting to you, and I think I managed to cover it up, but what if that situation arises when you’re away at college? You cause that kind of reaction and someone is going to start asking questions. You could expose yourself as a merfolk.”
Chelsea stared at Braden’s feet, his legs set in a wide stance. Since the chance of her getting to do anything other than stay in Jaffrey’s Cove had dropped to zero, there was little probability of her causing trouble.
“Right, college.”
She turned to go hide, take a cold shower—anything to get away from the man she wanted with a hunger close to pain. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was addicted to him, which was ridiculous. They might have an animal side to their natures, but their shifted form went for casual, not commitment.
Braden stopped her with a gentle tug on her shoulder. “When do you leave for your first semester?”
She froze. He obviously wasn’t aware she’d had to cancel her registration. She took her time to pivot, trying to come up with a suitable answer to throw him off the truth. Something he might believe.
“I…didn’t get in. I scored too low on my SATs.” The lie stuck in her throat. He stepped back, a frown creasing his face with clear disappointment, and a touch of annoyance. Great, he really wanted her to go away.
“Dammit, Chelsea, I thought that’s why you’d waited years to apply—so you’d figure out what program was right for you. I know people offered to help you study.”
She stared at the wall and ignored the knot forming in her belly from lying to him. Playing dumb might hurt her ego, but it stopped the questions.
If only she understood why Braden wasn’t willing to get involved with her. She’d tried to convince herself it was time to move on. Time to let a little pressure off the powder keg of her sexual frustrations by dating someone else. Only that option had been cut off from her too as Braden’s silent disapproval scared away all the eligible men.
Damn controlling bastard. He didn’t want her, but he didn’t want anyone else to have her either.
Suddenly she was angry. Unspeakably upset, and while it wasn’t completely Braden’s fault, he was there and part of the cause of her troubles. She crooked her head back to stare up at him.
“So, the researcher. He’s cute.” She left her facial expression wide and vacant, as innocent as a newborn lamb. Driving Braden crazy seemed a suitable revenge. “I think he likes me.”
Braden slapped a hand to his shaved head and groaned loudly as he paced before her.
“Chelsea, you’re going to be the death of me. Of course he likes you, everyone likes you. Especially when you turn up the hormones until all the males within striking distance have hard-ons. Damn it, how am I supposed to keep you out of trouble? You’ve been deliberately taunting the humans in the community at every turn since the matriarch left on her honeymoon.” He stalked closer. “You’re asking for trouble you don’t want.”
How dare he act like her actions were by design? Chelsea glared at him. “I haven’t asked for trouble. It’s my damn merfolk hormones and I’m not ‘turning them up’, I’m frustrated. Period. It’s not a matter of using more control. I’m twenty-three and I haven’t had a sexual partner for over a year, ever since you started scaring away the merfolk who could satisfy me.”
“This is my fault?” His skin darkened, flushed with anger, or dare she hope for another reason?
There was only one way to know for sure—she screwed up her meager courage and moved closer, like a butterfly caging a bull.
“You don’t want me to have sex with the humans, but you don’t want me to get involved with any of the other men from the pod. Whose fault could it be? You know you could satisfy me yourself like I asked you before. I want you, Braden, I have for a long time.”
She trailed her finger down his shirt buttons, circling the last one that sat just shy of the top of his jeans. His abdomen muscles quivered under her touch. She lifted her gaze to meet his, gasping as she saw the longing and desire reflected there.
“Chelsea…baby, don’t do this,” he whispered, grabbing her hand and halting her slow exploration of his belt buckle.
“Do what? Make us both happy? Come on, admit it. You want me, don’t you?” She held her breath. Would he actually confess this time?
He clasped their hands together, swearing softly under his breath. A long sigh followed. “You damn well know I want you, but baby—”
A shiver raced up her skin and the need to touch him made her bolder than she’d allowed herself to be for over a year. She nestled in close.
“I’m not a baby. You know it. I know it. Please, I need you.” His hands fell apart and she wrapped herself around him, drawing a deep breath of the scent of his body, spicy and all male. It settled her jangling nerves even as it excited her more. “Hmm, I need you now, Braden.”
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Street Date: Currently Unknown
“All you have to do is nod and I’ll end this quickly.”
William Pray stared back into Malcolm Crane’s harsh blue eyes and made very sure he didn’t move a single muscle that could be taken as a sign of agreement. He wasn’t going down that easily, no matter how much agony he was in. He couldn’t afford to.
Malcolm huffed cold air into William’s face, making his eyes water. “You never did know when to cut your losses and surrender graciously, did you, William?”
“Just a part of my charm.”
Malcolm grinned and then buried his fangs deep into William’s exposed shoulder, sucking blood and life from his opponent, just a little, just enough to weaken him further. As he pulled back, he tore viciously at William’s skin, leaving a gaping wound that trickled precious blood onto the tarpaper roof of the abandoned apartment building. The wound showed no signs of healing anytime soon.
He ran a fingertip through the puddle of blood created beside William’s battered face, drawing crude symbols on the roof’s surface just far enough away that William could see them if he strained his neck and rolled his eyes. Malcolm knew William wouldn’t be able to resist looking, and he couldn’t. All vampires knew the ancient language. It was part of the conversion, a genetic imprint passed on to the newly converted, innate knowledge all vampires possessed after their awakening.
The symbols leapt from the gritty surface, their meaning searing into William’s brain, unlocking his final waning reserves of vampiric strength. He surged up, his one still-functioning hand around Malcolm’s thick throat. It was a pathetic attempt, but one William had to make. He managed to catch Malcolm by surprise, enabling him to throw the vampire off enough to roll on top of him, pinning Malcolm to the rooftop.
He tightened his fingers around Malcolm’s windpipe before he remembered vampires as old as Malcolm didn’t need to breathe. A malicious smile on Malcolm’s face chilled William to the bone.
“Poor choice of defense, but I applaud your efforts to fight back.” Pale gray-blue eyes studied him thoughtfully, a sudden intimate interest beyond the approaching victory lighting them. It would have made William blush if he’d had the blood to spare.
“You always could surprise me...in so many ways.” Malcolm’s stare turned colder still, and his lips twisted into a biting smirk. “I hope it’s a trait you’ve passed on to your offspring.”
William tried to pull back, but Malcolm held him in place and rolled them over together. A sharp metal roof vent impaled William through the back, and he screamed into the humid, still dawn-tinged air, the sound more an animal than human. With a powerful thrust, Malcolm used his considerable weight to crush William all the way down to the to the tarpaper surface.
Malcolm Crane had been taken in his thirty-second year of life during a bloody, vicious Celtic war. A celebrated, successful leader and brutal warrior, his body had been preserved for all time in its hard, thick-muscled perfection, honed by a human life of battle and grueling physical labor of the ancient times. Malcolm was broad, hard, and chiseled like a statue that paid homage to the perfect male form.
William’s body reflected his prior life as a photojournalist. He was medium height, slender of build, with a keen mind and zero fighting skills. The most exercise he had ever done as human was jogging. He was no fighting match for Malcolm and he knew it, but there was more at stake than his undead existence. The blood markings Malcolm scrolled into the rooftop told him as much. But the pain, the pain was unbearable, agonizing, consuming.
Through the haze, William sensed Malcolm staring at him. He blinked to clear the tears of agony away and face his executioner with as much courage as he could gather.
He’d gambled everything he had in this long-awaited battle with Malcolm — his fortune, his power, his property and his very existence. He hadn’t lost easily. Partly because that wasn’t what Malcolm would want and partly because William had hoped if he gave the ruthless ancient a glorious win, the old warrior would be merciful and not take everything William’s losing would entitle him. He had only been a vampire a few short years, but he had planned wisely, accrued power and wealth trying to make up financially for his sudden absence from his mortal life. He had been a creature of the night covertly arranging to pay college tuition.
William didn’t care about his power or even the properties and money that he had hoped would go to his mortal heir, but there was one thing William didn’t want Malcolm to claim. One very important thing he had to protect even if it was with his last breath. But he knew now that was lost as well. Knew it as clearly as he knew he was moments away from slipping out of existence.
He shuddered with the effort to pull in a breath deep enough to make his words heard, not caring if they sounded like a plea. “Don’t make it hurt. Don’t make him suffer, please.”
Malcolm ran two fingertips down William’s less damaged cheek, the touch sensuous and possessive, but with an element of hesitation.
“Why should I do that, William? What has earned him that privilege?”
Lying inches from Malcolm’s handsome, angular face, with Malcolm’s weight crushing down on him, William accepted the intimate touch in death that he had refused to accept in life.
He had always been attracted to the man physically, but Malcolm’s sometimes brutally cruel warrior nature had been too great a barrier for William to ignore. It had even brought them to this closing chapter in their relationship. In the long run, Malcolm did not take rejection well.
“My dying request.” William shivered and gasped, life draining away alarmingly fast, but he found enough will to lock stares with Malcolm hovering over him. He watched as Malcolm’s cold glare churned to something dark, heated, and unspoken. “If you ever loved me at all, show him mercy.”
The dark look froze, quickly replaced with a bitter stare. “Mercy?” Malcolm chuckled and traced the outline of William’s swollen lips. “What is that?”
“Yes, mercy.” Malcolm’s fingers moved with William’s mouth as he talked, and William didn’t bother to shake them off, even going so far as to let his tongue flick against them as he moistened his lips between words, using all the weapons at his disposal to sway the vampire. “Have you lost touch so completely with humanity that you forget the meaning of the word? Isn’t that one of the coveted traits of the finest of warriors? Mercy with victory?”
Malcolm’s response was low, guttural, and cruel. “You know nothing of being a warrior nor of me!”
Now, even with nothing left to lose, the older vampire’s ability to thrust paralyzing menace into mere words still made William cringe, but it didn’t stop him from fighting back with more words of his own.
“I know you’ve won. I’m not sorry to leave this life. You’ve won this battle and, with it, everything I possess. If you’re still are a true warrior, show him mercy. Don’t lose touch with the human you once were, Malcolm. Don’t lose yourself completely to this unholy existence. Please, don’t make him suffer because of me.”
“Always the altruist, even now when brute strength would have served you better.” Malcolm’s sneer had lost some of its sharpness, the bitterness replaced by a glimmer of something William read as grudging respect or maybe veiled affection.
He used it to push home his point as his last breath escaped his crumbling body. “You are the most powerful, Malcolm, the winner. But what will show the better man? The brutal winner or the merciful one?”
Malcolm’s nostrils flared, his cold eyes narrowed, and William’s heart sank. “Brutal or merciful, the winner still takes all.”
With a last defeated sigh, William’s spark of unearthly life faded and his body turned to ash, dissolving under the weight of Malcolm’s body, leaving the ancient vampire lying in the dust of the man who had once been his most steadfast detractor and his unachieved fondest desire.
His own hand was full of the ash that had once been William’s left hand. Malcolm rolled the gold wedding band left behind in his palm. He read the inscription, then slipped it into his pocket as he rose to his feet. He didn’t even try to brush the ash from his clothes. ![]() $0.17 Rewards
Street Date: Tuesday, August 3, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 3, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 3, 2010 Street Date: Tuesday, August 3, 2010 “Is there a problem?” Hank strode up to stand just to the side of the stranger.
“No problem. This gentleman was just leaving.” She pleaded with Isaiah with her eyes. If he insisted on repeating his claim of her being a werewolf, he wouldn’t get out of here alive. There was only one of him and three male werewolves. Was he a hunter or just a human who believed in such things?
She took a deep breath. She needed to be calm. What she got was a blast of pheromones and a jolt of arousal. A spicy scent filled her nose and made her sex clench with need. She almost moaned aloud as a shiver of need wracked her body and her nipples tightened. How had she missed this? He was a werewolf.
Impossible. She blinked in astonishment. In all the years they’d been here this had never happened. Male werewolves tended to stay away from the city, not liking the crowds or the closed-in space. It was one of the main reasons why she lived here with her sons and her adopted family.
Oh God! Hank. He was only a half-breed and many full-blooded werewolves were as bad as the bounty hunters wanting them dead. Teague, Neema and Kevin were all half-breeds as well. Their safety depended on her keeping control of this situation at all costs. She straightened her shoulders. If he thought to threaten her family, he was mistaken.
“You need to leave,” she repeated. “Now.”
He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. It made him look sexier, if that was even possible.
Hank reached out to grab Isaiah’s arm.
“You don’t want to do that, pup,” Isaiah warned.
Hank froze with his hand in the air. Benjamin growled low in his chest. Kevin came out from the back office, adding to the growing tension. “What’s going on?”
Isaiah was still trying to process the fact that the woman he lusted after was a female werewolf, and a beautiful one at that. She was also coming into heat. There was no mistaking that enticing spicy perfume. No wonder he was attracted to her.
What was even more surprising was that she wasn’t the only werewolf here. They all were. The odor from all the human patrons, the liquor and the food had masked their scent. Now that they were the only ones left, there was no disguising it.
It was crazy to see a group of werewolves living in a city surrounded by the myriad sights and sounds which assailed their senses daily. Bounty hunters frequented the cities for supplies and new recruits. Not to mention that vampires, witches and demons preferred to live in the city. And while the different species weren’t exactly at war, they weren’t sending each other Christmas cards either.
Around him several of the males began to growl. As if drawn by the tension, a lean red-haired male pushed through the kitchen door, wiping his hand on a white towel as he came. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing displayed an array of tattoos running up and down his muscular arms. With the trio of gold hoops in both ears and his eyebrow piercing, he looked like trouble. He was followed by the slender, curly-haired female Isaiah had seen waiting tables earlier in the evening.
Meredith held up her hand. “Enough.”
Several of the males shot her a glare, but subsided. Isaiah was surprised at how all the males deferred to her. She was obviously the alpha female of this little pack. But where was the alpha male?
The thought of another male having the right to put his hands on her made Isaiah see red. A low, menacing growl came from deep in his chest. The younger woman took a step toward the red-haired male. He wrapped his arm around her protectively.
The tension in the room grew until it was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe. He didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he talked to Meredith.
The woman in question stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips. She exuded confidence, which was sexy as hell and turned him on even more. “Don’t think you can come in here and threaten my family, wolf.” She spat the last as though it were a bad word.
Having her so near, he could see the smoothness of her skin and smell her delicious scent. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and sniffed the curve of her neck. She smelled like something rare and exotic, a combination of musk, cinnamon and heat that was intoxicating. She shivered and started to lean toward him. He wanted to howl with pleasure. But it ended far too soon for his liking when someone pulled her away.
Isaiah jerked his head up to see who had ruined the moment between him and Meredith. It was one of the younger men. He started toward him, the promise of retaliation stamped on his face, only to have Meredith step in front of him again. “He’s my son.”
That brought Isaiah up cold. If there was one thing he could understand, it was wanting to protect family. He addressed the younger man directly, looking over Meredith’s head. “I mean her no harm.”
“What about the rest of them? Why are you here? Who sent you?”
Meredith was still in front of him demanding answers.
He sighed and rolled his head to work out some of the kinks in his neck. “No one sent me. I didn’t come here to find any of you. I was just wandering the streets, heard a woman singing and came in.”
“I don’t believe you,” said the man Meredith had called her son.
“Michael,” she warned, and he subsided, but not without first giving Isaiah a look that promised death if he made a move toward his mother. Isaiah could respect that.
“There’s nothing for you here. You need to leave.” Isaiah understood her wanting to protect the pack, but he was curious why Meredith was in such a hurry to get rid of him when he obviously meant no harm.
“I’m not sure we should let him leave.” The bouncer from the door spoke up. “What if he’s working with the hunters?”
The menacing growl that came from Isaiah was impossible to suppress. “I kill hunters, pup, and anyone who works with them.”
“So you say,” the other male who’d worked behind the bar countered.
“Are you questioning my word?” He’d never had anyone do such a thing. He was a Striker. Their loyalty and honesty was above reproach.
“Enough.” Meredith tapped the toe of her high-heeled shoe on the wooden floor. It drew his gaze down over her long, shapely legs and back up again. “No one is going to hurt anyone. And you’re leaving.”
It was time to regroup. Things were too volatile with so many males in the mix. They were on a short leash at the moment, but Isaiah had no doubt all the males would swing into action in the blink of an eye if they thought it was necessary. He didn’t want to be put in a position of having to hurt them. That certainly wouldn’t go over well with Meredith. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize her any more than he already had.
“I want to talk to you. Two minutes,” he added before she could protest. “Alone.”
Predictably enough, the males protested, but in the end Meredith was alpha and the rest of them headed toward to the kitchen.
“I’ll only be on the other side of the door,” Michael warned.
Isaiah inclined his head in understanding.
Meredith waited until they were all gone before turning back to him. “We’re alone. What do you want?”
He shifted until they were so close they were almost touching. He could feel the heat from her skin, see the way her pupils dilated and the pulse in her neck beat faster. There was a slight hitch in her breathing as he invaded her space.
They weren’t touching, not quite. He raised his hand and lightly brushed the curve of her cheek with the back of his knuckles. She sucked in a breath and the movement had her breasts touching his chest. Even through the layers of their clothing, he could feel the hard tips of her nipples.
Need roared through him. Raw desire pumped through his veins. He wanted Meredith more than he’d wanted anything in his life, as though she was somehow necessary to him.
He leaned down, his lips practically caressing hers as he answered her question. “You, Meredith. I want you.”
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