Read Online A Man of Honor (A Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (The Honor Trilogy) by J.P. Grider - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J.P. Grider
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after them. One of ‘ em killed Storm. Ethan shot them both.”
Eli’s eyebrows are now about an inch higher on his forehead. “Ah, now I see why you call him loser – you’re jealous. Gotcha.”
The knife on the table is the closest thing to me, so I grab it. Instinctively raising it to my shoulder, I point it at Eli and plunge it right into the table. I walk out of the kitchen and straight out my door, leaving the knife standing upright on the table.
“Great,” I mutter to myself, throwing up my hands in a huff. Ethan’s here…with the empty elixir jugs. Not interested in talking to him right now, I duck out through the side of the house. If I let my temper get the best of me, I’d be failing Honor. I lean against the side of the house and slide down until I’m sitting on my ass, my knees at my chest.
How did I get here? My curiosity about the legendary Honor Robinson and my distaste and distrust for the son of the bastard who broke up my family got the best of me. I should have never stepped foot in Jefferson Township. And now I can’t leave. Not until I see this thing through – save Honor, then get the hell out.
Hopefully taking Honor with me.
Chapter Fourteen
Fifteen minutes later, back in my apartment, my family , for lack of a better word, is making themselves at home. Hunter’s eating my leftover pizza, Eli’s downing one of my cans of soda, and even Tom is flicking channels from my leather recliner. The only one looking uneasy is Ethan. And somehow this softens my heart toward him. I hate myself for it.
When I see Ethan looking at me, I direct him, with my eyes only, to follow me to the kitchen. I’m still not ready to talk to anyone. Since all the blood bags and needles are on the table, Ethan doesn’t need an explanation. He sits and holds out his arm. I sit across from him and bring the needle to his vein. So I don’t have to look at him, I watch his blood ooze through the tube. Slow and thick. My stomach tenses, hating the fact that his blood is what will save Honor’s life. His blood will allow the elixir to pass for the real thing.
When I’ve got the pint from him, I pull out the needle, press a cotton ball to the inside of his elbow, and signal that we’re done. The rest I can do by myself. Tom and the boys are clearly confused when I stand at the open front door.
“I guess we’re done?” Tom asks.
I nod.
After they leave, I grab a cola and begin combining their still warm blood with the base I made earlier. My stomach isn’t as strong as I suspected, because cutting open the bags of blood and pouring them into the pot is making me nauseous. I carry the pot back to the stove and figure the ingredients will combine better if I cook them – the thought making me dry heave. Turning the flame on low and standing an arm’s length away, I stir the blood. And gag. As it warms over the fire, my eyes tear, the stench is so bad. Honor. I’m doing this for Honor. She is the only reason I’m playing with my half-brothers’ blood. The only reason I’m brewing up an elixir-like pot of dark red, foul-smelling human blood.
I run to the toilet and vomit. Heaving over the bowl, my thoughts are still on Honor. They have to be. The Gaffer’s men are dangerous. I’ve no idea what they’ll do, but if they aren’t given the elixir soon, I don’t think it’ll be me they’ll go after. Honor will be their target. I cannot let that happen.
Since it seems my stomach has nothing left to come up, I wash up, brush my teeth, and get back to my brew. I turn off the stove and leave the apartment, needing fresh air.
The next step is to funnel the blood into the containers. Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t really wash the jugs like I’d thought. When he said he’d rinsed them, it looks like he merely ran a little water through them. A thick coating of fog and dust still remain on the outside, keeping the vintage look I’ll need to pass this off.
Hopefully the Gaffer is not as
Eli’s eyebrows are now about an inch higher on his forehead. “Ah, now I see why you call him loser – you’re jealous. Gotcha.”
The knife on the table is the closest thing to me, so I grab it. Instinctively raising it to my shoulder, I point it at Eli and plunge it right into the table. I walk out of the kitchen and straight out my door, leaving the knife standing upright on the table.
“Great,” I mutter to myself, throwing up my hands in a huff. Ethan’s here…with the empty elixir jugs. Not interested in talking to him right now, I duck out through the side of the house. If I let my temper get the best of me, I’d be failing Honor. I lean against the side of the house and slide down until I’m sitting on my ass, my knees at my chest.
How did I get here? My curiosity about the legendary Honor Robinson and my distaste and distrust for the son of the bastard who broke up my family got the best of me. I should have never stepped foot in Jefferson Township. And now I can’t leave. Not until I see this thing through – save Honor, then get the hell out.
Hopefully taking Honor with me.
Chapter Fourteen
Fifteen minutes later, back in my apartment, my family , for lack of a better word, is making themselves at home. Hunter’s eating my leftover pizza, Eli’s downing one of my cans of soda, and even Tom is flicking channels from my leather recliner. The only one looking uneasy is Ethan. And somehow this softens my heart toward him. I hate myself for it.
When I see Ethan looking at me, I direct him, with my eyes only, to follow me to the kitchen. I’m still not ready to talk to anyone. Since all the blood bags and needles are on the table, Ethan doesn’t need an explanation. He sits and holds out his arm. I sit across from him and bring the needle to his vein. So I don’t have to look at him, I watch his blood ooze through the tube. Slow and thick. My stomach tenses, hating the fact that his blood is what will save Honor’s life. His blood will allow the elixir to pass for the real thing.
When I’ve got the pint from him, I pull out the needle, press a cotton ball to the inside of his elbow, and signal that we’re done. The rest I can do by myself. Tom and the boys are clearly confused when I stand at the open front door.
“I guess we’re done?” Tom asks.
I nod.
After they leave, I grab a cola and begin combining their still warm blood with the base I made earlier. My stomach isn’t as strong as I suspected, because cutting open the bags of blood and pouring them into the pot is making me nauseous. I carry the pot back to the stove and figure the ingredients will combine better if I cook them – the thought making me dry heave. Turning the flame on low and standing an arm’s length away, I stir the blood. And gag. As it warms over the fire, my eyes tear, the stench is so bad. Honor. I’m doing this for Honor. She is the only reason I’m playing with my half-brothers’ blood. The only reason I’m brewing up an elixir-like pot of dark red, foul-smelling human blood.
I run to the toilet and vomit. Heaving over the bowl, my thoughts are still on Honor. They have to be. The Gaffer’s men are dangerous. I’ve no idea what they’ll do, but if they aren’t given the elixir soon, I don’t think it’ll be me they’ll go after. Honor will be their target. I cannot let that happen.
Since it seems my stomach has nothing left to come up, I wash up, brush my teeth, and get back to my brew. I turn off the stove and leave the apartment, needing fresh air.
The next step is to funnel the blood into the containers. Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t really wash the jugs like I’d thought. When he said he’d rinsed them, it looks like he merely ran a little water through them. A thick coating of fog and dust still remain on the outside, keeping the vintage look I’ll need to pass this off.
Hopefully the Gaffer is not as
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