Thirteen
Page 4
When I don’t move, Philip shifts his legs over the side of the bed and sits up.
“I didn’t mean to snap,” he says. “I worry. I know you need your freedom and I’m trying—”
He stops and rubs his hand across his mouth. His words slice through me. I know he doesn’t mean them as a reprimand, but they are a reminder that I’m screwing this up, that I’m fortunate to have found someone as patient and understanding as Philip, but I’m wearing through that patience at breakneck speed and all I seem capable of doing is standing back and waiting for the final crash.
“I know you need your freedom,” he says again. “But there has to be some other way. Maybe you could go out in the morning, early. If you prefer night, we could drive down to the lake. You could walk around. I could sit in the car and keep an eye on you. Maybe I could walk with you. Stay twenty paces behind or something.” He manages a wry smile. “Or maybe not. I’d probably get picked up by the cops, the middle-aged guy stalking the beautiful young blond.”
He pauses, then leans forward. “That’s your cue, Elena. You’re supposed to remind me that forty-one is far from middle-aged.”
“We’ll work something out,” I say.
We can’t, of course. I have to run under the cover of night and I have to do it alone. There is no compromise.
As he sits on the edge of the bed, watching me, I know we’re doomed. My only hope is to make this relationship so otherwise perfect that Philip might come to overlook our one insurmountable problem. To do that, my first step should be to go to him, crawl in bed, kiss him, and tell him I love him. But I can’t. Not tonight. Tonight I’m something else, something he doesn’t know and couldn’t understand. I don’t want to go to him like this.
“I’m not tired,” I say. “I might as well stay up. Do you want breakfast?”
He looks at me. Something in his expression falters and I know I’ve failed—again. But he doesn’t say anything. He pulls his smile back in place. “Let’s go out. Someplace in this city has to be open this early. We’ll drive around until we find it. Drink five cups of coffee and watch the sun come up. Okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Shower first?” he says. “Or flip for it?”
“You go ahead.”
He kisses my cheek as he passes. I wait until I hear the shower running, then head for the kitchen.
Sometimes I get so hungry.
COPYRIGHT
Published by Hachette Digital
: 9780748115303
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
© 2012 by K. L. A. Fricke Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
hachette
Contents
BY KELLEY ARMSTRONG
A WORD FROM KELLEY ARMSTRONG BITTEN: THE PROLOGUE
COPYRIGHT PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAIME
CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ELENA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PAIGE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HOPE
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
EVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
A FINAL NOTE FROM KELLEY … ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This book goes out to all the readers of the Otherworld. For those who discovered it with Bitten a decade ago, to those who just discovered it a month ago. You took a dream and you made it real. Thank you.
PROLOGUE
Typical guy. You fight through hell—literally, hacking through legions of beasts and zombies and demon-spawn—to sneak home and spend a few stolen minutes with him … and he’s not there.
Eve grumbled as she paced around the tiny houseboat, multi-hued blood dripping from her sword. “Where the hell are you, Kris?”
Her angel partner, Trsiel, couldn’t cover for her much longer, and she’d really wanted to check in with Kristof. He’d been keeping an eye on the living world for her, watching as his sons and their daughter got caught up in this mess. There really wasn’t much a ghostly father could do to help, but the check-ins made them both feel better.
He wasn’t at the houseboat, though. Nor was he at the courthouse. Eve had gone there to find the justice building shut down. The guard on duty had muttered something about magical wards needing repair, just regular maintenance. Which was bullshit. Afterlife court was closed because the higher powers were racing around commandeering forces to put out fires both on earth and in the afterlife. But they weren’t telling the shades that their world was on the brink of war. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Just pretend everything is fine. And if you see a monstrous beast racing down Main Street, it most certainly is not a hell-hound that escaped its dimension. Er, but you should probably notify demon control anyway.
“I didn’t mean to snap,” he says. “I worry. I know you need your freedom and I’m trying—”
He stops and rubs his hand across his mouth. His words slice through me. I know he doesn’t mean them as a reprimand, but they are a reminder that I’m screwing this up, that I’m fortunate to have found someone as patient and understanding as Philip, but I’m wearing through that patience at breakneck speed and all I seem capable of doing is standing back and waiting for the final crash.
“I know you need your freedom,” he says again. “But there has to be some other way. Maybe you could go out in the morning, early. If you prefer night, we could drive down to the lake. You could walk around. I could sit in the car and keep an eye on you. Maybe I could walk with you. Stay twenty paces behind or something.” He manages a wry smile. “Or maybe not. I’d probably get picked up by the cops, the middle-aged guy stalking the beautiful young blond.”
He pauses, then leans forward. “That’s your cue, Elena. You’re supposed to remind me that forty-one is far from middle-aged.”
“We’ll work something out,” I say.
We can’t, of course. I have to run under the cover of night and I have to do it alone. There is no compromise.
As he sits on the edge of the bed, watching me, I know we’re doomed. My only hope is to make this relationship so otherwise perfect that Philip might come to overlook our one insurmountable problem. To do that, my first step should be to go to him, crawl in bed, kiss him, and tell him I love him. But I can’t. Not tonight. Tonight I’m something else, something he doesn’t know and couldn’t understand. I don’t want to go to him like this.
“I’m not tired,” I say. “I might as well stay up. Do you want breakfast?”
He looks at me. Something in his expression falters and I know I’ve failed—again. But he doesn’t say anything. He pulls his smile back in place. “Let’s go out. Someplace in this city has to be open this early. We’ll drive around until we find it. Drink five cups of coffee and watch the sun come up. Okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Shower first?” he says. “Or flip for it?”
“You go ahead.”
He kisses my cheek as he passes. I wait until I hear the shower running, then head for the kitchen.
Sometimes I get so hungry.
COPYRIGHT
Published by Hachette Digital
: 9780748115303
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
© 2012 by K. L. A. Fricke Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
hachette
Contents
BY KELLEY ARMSTRONG
A WORD FROM KELLEY ARMSTRONG BITTEN: THE PROLOGUE
COPYRIGHT PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
JAIME
CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ELENA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PAIGE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
HOPE
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
EVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
A FINAL NOTE FROM KELLEY … ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This book goes out to all the readers of the Otherworld. For those who discovered it with Bitten a decade ago, to those who just discovered it a month ago. You took a dream and you made it real. Thank you.
PROLOGUE
Typical guy. You fight through hell—literally, hacking through legions of beasts and zombies and demon-spawn—to sneak home and spend a few stolen minutes with him … and he’s not there.
Eve grumbled as she paced around the tiny houseboat, multi-hued blood dripping from her sword. “Where the hell are you, Kris?”
Her angel partner, Trsiel, couldn’t cover for her much longer, and she’d really wanted to check in with Kristof. He’d been keeping an eye on the living world for her, watching as his sons and their daughter got caught up in this mess. There really wasn’t much a ghostly father could do to help, but the check-ins made them both feel better.
He wasn’t at the houseboat, though. Nor was he at the courthouse. Eve had gone there to find the justice building shut down. The guard on duty had muttered something about magical wards needing repair, just regular maintenance. Which was bullshit. Afterlife court was closed because the higher powers were racing around commandeering forces to put out fires both on earth and in the afterlife. But they weren’t telling the shades that their world was on the brink of war. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Just pretend everything is fine. And if you see a monstrous beast racing down Main Street, it most certainly is not a hell-hound that escaped its dimension. Er, but you should probably notify demon control anyway.
