by Quinn Loftis
"Can't, I'm not twenty-one," I answered, trying to scare him away with my age.
"That's fine, honey. This ain't like the states. They don't care how old you are."
"So, me being eighteen wouldn't bother them at all?" I asked.
"Not at all sugar," he countered, sitting on the end of my towel without asking.
"I'm not sure if my boyfriend would like it that I accepted a drink," I said, giving the jerk one last opportunity to leave somewhat graciously.
"Honey, if my girlfriend looked like you, I wouldn't leave her on the beach all by her lonesome."
"So, you have a girlfriend?" I asked. Not that I cared, but what a worm.
"Wife, but I'm always looking," he said, reaching out to capture a drop of water that was rolling down my arm. I reached out with lightning-quick reflexes that were as instinctive as breathing and grasped his hand. For a moment, his eyes lit up with triumph until I started to squeeze. I grinned at him as his face slowly lost its color.
"A word to the wise, Romeo. When a girl gives you an excuse to avoid buying her a drink, or asking her out or wherever else your perv mind was taking this whole thing, you take the hint. If we say no, we mean no. Got me?" I said, squeezing his fingers a little harder. I watched with satisfaction as his complexion took on a grayish hue. "Got me?" I repeated.
He nodded mutely and sighed in relief when I released his hand.
"Good boy," I said, standing to my feet as he grimaced in pain while trying to flex his fingers. To add insult to injury, I reached down and grasped the corner of my towel. With the flick of my wrist, I sent him sprawling face down into the sand.
"And by the way—ew," I said, wrinkling my nose as he lay in a heap in the sand, clearly confused on what had just transpired. Turning on heel, I paused when I heard several women cheering. I flushed slightly that they had seen more than they should have, but I couldn't help grinning as they all applauded. Leaving them behind, I looked for an inconspicuous spot where I could "pop away," as I liked to call it, without detection. Slipping between the bushes that lined the sidewalk, I disappeared the moment I was clear from view.
I appeared in the hotel room in New York City I had inhabited for the last few days. It wasn't the Plaza by any means, but it was clean. To remain hidden, I had to stay in places that would accept cash without a credit card deposit. I had a checking account from a trust fund I was originally told was left to me by my dead parents. I now know that was a lie. Since Krista and Mark were the trustees of the account, they would see when I made any charges using my debit card. To get around that, I would make ATM withdrawals from all over the country when I needed money, that way they could never pinpoint where I was. When I popped into New York on Wednesday, I only planned to stay for the day. I was lonely and figured the crowded streets would help fill the void inside me. After walking aimlessly around Manhattan for hours, I decided to pop up to the roof of one of the buildings to check out Central Park. The view was so breathtaking it had convinced me to stay longer. It wasn't the Empire State Building, where my heart yearned to go, but still gorgeous scenery nonetheless. The sun had set for the evening, but the sky was alive with the millions of lights that made New York the city it was. I really shouldn't be here. It reminded me too much of Emrys. Still, I couldn't deny how special it felt the moment I arrived. This was our place.
Chapter 2
Emrys
"You must ask him, Emrys. We are out of time."
"Look, Haniel, if this is so important, why don't you go ask your precious Light?" I prodded, even though I knew what his answer would be. I just enjoyed yanking his chain. I knew what I needed to do. Besides, the endless waiting was killing me. I had been ready to go after Jordyn from the moment she left. The fact that neither Haniel nor I could locate her after she severed her ties with us sat heavily on me. I wasn't used to asking for help to find someone. It was an unwelcome feeling.
"Approaching the Light now will only harm the chances of your request being granted. The Light must only be approached when we have something to offer," Haniel reminded me in his typical unyielding fashion. He was as much fun to talk to as a mute daemon that had been sentenced to a thousand lifetimes of silence.
"I was kidding, you stiff. I got it, okay? I know what my part is. I just have to make sure I am ready to face Gaab. You know he'll see my thoughts, and there will be some kind of test of my loyalty too," I said, grimacing over the last part. I could only imagine what the daemon who ruled the majority of the Caverns of Gloom would do if he read my true intentions, but this seemed to be our only option at the moment. He was one of the few who could see Jordyn through the shield that was keeping her hidden.
"You must accomplish your mission." Haniel stated firmly like he was telling me something I didn't already know.
"Relax, all right? I got this. You work on your end of the bargain," I said, not allowing myself to focus on what the bargain entailed. I had been schooling myself to empty my mind from everything but my desire to locate Jordyn. If that was the only thing Gaab pulled from my thoughts, and he believed my intention to turn Jordyn over to them once I found her, maybe he would be willing to give me the information we needed. That was the plan anyway.
"The time then for hesitation is done. Every second that passes becomes more critical."
"Critical for you, not me," I muttered under my breath, even though I knew he heard me. Before he could answer, I disappeared from his side.
YA Titles by Tiffany King
The Saving Angels Series
Meant to Be (Book 1)
Forgotten Souls (Book 2)
The Ascended (Book 3)
Wishing For Someday Soon
Forever Changed
Unlikely Allies
Miss Me Not
Jordyn: A Daemon Hunter Novel Book 1
NA Titles by Tiffany King
The Woodfalls Girls Series
No Attachments (book 1)
Where to find Tiffany King
www.authortiffanyjking.blogspot.com
Twitter: @AuthorTiffany
Facebook: Tiffany King
Goodreads: Tiffany King
Please enjoy the following excerpt of Blood Rule by Heather Hildenbrand
Blood Rule
Book 4 in the Dirty Blood series
By Heather Hildenbrand
Chapter One
Listening to headphones at maximum volume with your back turned to the doorway is a fantastic way to get the crap scared out of you. Cambria had said those exact words this morning when she’d come up behind me and I’d dropped an entire gallon of milk on my kitchen floor. I’d scowled at her before putting the earbuds back in while I mopped the spill. I hadn’t removed them again since.
In my tent reflecting on that incident, a hand closed over my shoulder. I screamed. In one violent move, I scrambled to my feet, ripped the headphones free and chucked them aside, and swung out with my fist.
Wes jerked back in time to avoid getting punched.
“Geez. It’s only me,” he said, throwing up his hands.
I relaxed. “Sorry. You scared me.”
“Obviously.” He was fighting a grin—and losing. I stuck my tongue out.
He stood in front of me wearing nothing but a pair of jersey shorts, the drawstring untied. They were a little long but they fit around his hips. In a really yummy sort of way. My heart tripped over itself in my attempt to breathe evenly. “Where’d you find those?”
“George’s, I think. I’ll put them back when I leave.”
I backed up so Wes could fit into the small square of canvas that was mine in this chaotic communal space of woods the hybrids shared. He reached back and closed the flap. The moment we were hidden from view, he pulled me into his arms and sank onto the pile of blankets so that I fell into his lap.
His mouth found mine in the middle of my laughter. “What is this for?”
“I haven’t seen you since yesterday. I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I
returned his kisses and wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying his bare arms pressing against me.
We rarely shared moments like this anymore. Privacy was nonexistent. Nowhere, no matter how secluded, was without interruption. As proof, my cheeks flamed with the growing awareness in my mind. I jumped when the mental voice became audible.
“Gross, you guys. Get a room.”
Wes pulled free and glared at George in the doorway. “This one was working fine until you showed up.”
“You act like I wasn’t here the whole time.” George pointed at his temple. From outside the tent, I heard someone snicker.
“Shut up, Derek,” Wes said, but that made him laugh harder.
“George, you need a life,” I said.
Sweat from his run dripping down his temple, George mopped his brow with a towel. “Don’t hate me because I choose a different method of calorie-burning.”
“We’re not the haters,” Wes muttered. I pretended not to hear.
George and Derek had taken up running on two legs right around the time they’d realized neither was faster than the other on four paws. They’d invited me along but I declined every time. No way was I getting in the midst of all that testosterone.
“You’re mad I’m better at this than you are,” I shot back.
“Oooh.” Derek elbowed George in the ribs. “She would know, right?”
“Whatever.” George abruptly retreated only to reappear once more. “Dude,” he said, staring at Wes. “Are you wearing my shorts?”
“Maybe.”
George grinned like he’d figured out the punch line of a really good joke. “Guess you’ve got all my hand-me-downs now.”
Wes picked up a bottle of water and sent it hurtling through the air, but George was already gone. The sound of his and Derek’s laughter faded as they went.
The sound of my own laughter startled me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. I sobered quickly, my amusement fading as I remembered all the reasons I had not to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Wes asked, oblivious to my mood shift.
“The look on your face,” I said. “If looks could kill …”
“You shouldn’t be laughing. Your ex-boyfriend called you a hand-me-down. It was an insult.”
I shrugged. “He wanted to outwit you. He doesn’t really think that.”
“How do you—? Never mind.”
I pointed to my own temple. “Exactly. So, lighten up.”
“Forgive me if I get a little touchy that I spend most days with the other guys you’ve kissed.”
Guys. He’d said guys. Plural. Were we finally going to have this talk?
I sat back. “Where is this coming from? It’s George. You know there’s nothing between us.”
“This bond is not nothing. I can’t even kiss you without him knowing. I might as well be kissing him.”
It was an old argument with no solution. While I knew it was a point of contention with us, I was determined to not fight about it. Not today. “Um, that would be awkward. Then he’d have my hand-me-downs.”
Wes pursed his lips. “You’re hilarious.”
I poked him in the ribs and his glare dissolved into an unwilling smile.
“I do what I can,” I said, relieved he’d chosen to let it go.
I trailed kisses down the side of his face and his smile widened. When I got to his jaw, he turned his head so our lips met. I drew him closer and held on, letting the heat creep in. I still sensed frustration under the surface but I knew I couldn’t extinguish it completely. The bond bothered him as much as it bothered me—maybe more. Unless it was broken, there was no getting rid of his frustration, not entirely.
I ran my hands up the back of his neck and let my fingers tangle in his hair. The kiss deepened, his chest relaxing against me.
He broke it off before we could get carried away. I knew he was thinking of what George must be sensing right now, but I didn’t want to get into that again. On top of that, the noise in my head was getting a little distracting for the sort of activity we were engaged in.
Forty-six.
That’s how many hybrids had survived the Hunter attack in the woods after I revived them with an injection of my blood. That’s how many followed me home to Frederick Falls. And that’s how many were now linked to me through a blood bond. At its base form, the bond was an emotional connection—or at least it had been when I’d only been bonded with my friend, (and ex-boyfriend. Long story.) George. But with forty-six more of them bonded to me through a mostly-magical-but-also-somehow-scientifically-explainable blood connection, it’d become strong enough that I’d begun hearing actual voices on occasion.
The first two days were the worst. It had taken me three valium and fourteen hours of sleep before I’d convinced myself the voices were real and not some sort of psychotic break after all I’d been through. My mother still wasn’t entirely convinced.
Fee had pointed out the bright side: though it’d taken twice as long as if I’d shifted into a Werewolf, all that rest had healed my dislocated shoulder and any other injuries left over from my time with Olivia.
When the bond happened with George a couple of months ago, I’d wondered how I’d ever get used to constantly having access to someone else’s emotions. It was a live feed with no “off” button. And for a while, it was overwhelming, making it impossible to know which reactions were mine and which were his. Not to mention the awkwardness of him feeling what I did. Especially when things got a little heavy with a certain Werewolf boyfriend of mine. Wes found it amusing—until he realized a shared, constant stream of emotion meant he didn’t get past first base. Then he was as frustrated as me.
I’d just begun to get it under control, finding ways to turn the volume down a few notches, when I’d woken the bond between myself and the dozens of hybrids Miles DeLuca created before he’d been killed. After his death, his mother, Olivia, had forced me to inject them all with my blood as a means to save them from the change of becoming what could only be described as a rabid, conscious-less Werewolf with yellow eyes and an appetite for human guts. Their survival rate—and likelihood of turning out a little more humane—was better with a little Tara Godfrey blood in them.
Most had been Hunters before their change—a superhuman created with the ability to kill a Werewolf in order to protect humans—so their bodies were strong enough to accept the change and hang on. But a lot of the humans had died before I got there, which is why there’d been only forty-six.
The memory of a room full of the dead and dying was an ongoing nightmare for me. Valium helped. And sometimes Wes came through my window and held me tight enough there was no room for the memory. Those were the nights I slept best.
And now, whether I wanted them or not, the pack of hybrids was mine. Not just because I could hear and feel everything in their heads. It was more than that. When the bond formed, it was like my body or my heart itself melded to theirs and I cared. That was the weirdest part. These people—or animals—were strangers to me. I didn’t know their names or recognize their faces like so many Hunters that’d grown up in the same community. None of them had meant anything to me before that day. But now … the thought of parting with them disturbed me. Imagining them hurt stirred a protectiveness in me that awakened my Werewolf side. The alpha. And maybe because I cared, the constant hum being poured into my head was driving me crazy.
The only thing I’d found that quieted the noise was music. Really, really loud music.
At least the rest of the pack couldn’t read me as well as George could. With practice, I’d gotten better at filtering what slipped through into their awareness. I’d tried to do the same with George but I couldn’t seem to keep him out. It’s like he tried extra hard to stay inside my head. The rest of them were weaker, more agreeable to my pushing them out. Vera said it was an alpha thing, which didn’t comfort me much since I couldn’t manage to do the reverse. I heard every single one of them, whether I wanted to or not.
I looked around for my headphones.
My thoughts clouded and jumbled as the volume increased. Someone yelped out loud and it echoed through my skull.
“What’s that?” Wes asked, drawing away and raising his face to the ceiling.
I sniffed. The smell of burnt hair permeated the air. I didn’t waste time trying to cover my face against the odor. Instead, I jumped to my feet and shoved the flap aside, searching camp for the source.
My tent had been constructed in the center of the clearing. All around me, makeshift tarps and tents and everything in between that could possibly be used to escape the elements had been thrown together in haphazard rows. There was no system, only open space and taken space. The boundaries of each shifted daily.
For once, I was glad to be in the center of the chaos the hybrids called home. It gave me a great view for searching out drama and mischief—of which there was plenty.
“Where is it coming from?” Wes asked, joining me.
“There.”
In the far left corner, beside a wounded-looking tent, an aging Werewolf-hybrid cowered underneath the menace of Nick. He was a hybrid as well, turned from Hunter to Werewolf in his prime. He was stronger and faster than a lot of the others. But not me. Not the alpha.
“Be right back,” I said.
“I’m going with you.”
Wes and I picked our way around tents and other obstacles. Torn shoes. Clothes—some shredded, some coated in mud from being left outside during last night’s rainstorm. Any other personal effects were out of sight. Possessions were limited and therefore closely guarded.
I approached Nick warily. More and more lately, he attempted to exert authority over the others. That wasn’t going to fly. I had the authority here.
“Nick,” I called. My voice was at normal volume but the severity of it was enough to get the attention of everyone in sight. “What the hell is going on?”