Read Online Chains of Ice by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online Page A

she was screwing a light socket.”
    “You’re a sarcastic prude.” Avni squinted at Genny.
    “Doesn’t the idea of a big, hot man do anything for you?”
    “A big, hot, hairy yeti?”
    “Apparently he’s not hairy there .”
    “How would you know that?”
    “I asked!”
    “Was there anything you didn’t ask?”
    “Hey, Halinka was more than willing to talk about it. She was telling anyone who would listen.” Avni fell backward on the cot. “Which is probably why none of the men in Rasputye like John Powell. Because according to her, when her time was over, she was exhausted from coming so much. But she would do it again in a minute.”
    “So John Powell is crazy, and he’s good in bed.”
    “That about sums it up.” The springs squeaked noisily as Avni turned her back to the room. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go to sleep and dream about . . .” Her words slurred. She snored.
    Genny got up, turned off the light, then groped her way back to the bed. She knew she’d found it when she banged her toe on the steel frame.
    No wonder Avni had “forgotten” the light. The moon had set, and Genny stared into a night so dark it pressed like a weight on her eyes. In the city, there was always ambient light. Here . . . everything was foreign, and she wondered what she’d done, taking this job in this strange place . . .
    Why didn’t the people of Rasputye like her? Why did Lubochka feel as if she had to threaten the townspeople to make them behave? How could Genny’s hope of saving the world become so twisted and tangled with whispers of danger, a pagan promise of sexual ecstasy, and a pact to reason with a madman?
    Lost in the forest in the darkness, sprinting away from an unseen menace only to encounter a pair of glowing red eyes. Screaming for help. Screaming for John Powell to save her. He stepped out of the woods. She ran to him. He kissed her on the mouth, on the throat . . . His hands around her waist, he lifted her, nuzzled her shirt aside . . . She closed her eyes as his mouth covered her nipple. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She held his head to her chest and whimpered in need, and whimpered as he suckled at her, then bit hard enough to make her jump. She looked down in protest . . . and screamed.
    Because he looked up at her, and it was his eyes that glowed with that peculiar, disturbing light.

Chapter 8

    J ohn tilted Genny backward onto the bed, reached between her legs, and slid his big hand under the waistband of her jeans. And at his touch, she came. And came. Hard. Fast. Over and over, while she whimpered and tossed, torn between fear and pleasure.
    And all the while, John watched with those glowing eyes, and he smiled . . .
    Genny’s alarm went off. She grabbed it, muffled it under the covers, turned it off, lay breathing hard. She felt as if she’d been running all night.
    And coming.
    Across the low attic room, Avni scowled in her sleep.
    Genny sat up quietly. She reached for her clothes, her camera, and her backpack.
    Man, that dream: equal parts terror and sex. That stuff Avni had told her about John Powell and his carnal prowess had worked on her subconscious and . . . well, what did Genny expect?
    She crept down the stairs to the bathroom. She splashed her face with the frigid water from the yellow porcelain basin, washed away memories of her nightmare. Brushed her teeth. But it wasn’t as easy to wash away the taste of unwilling arousal.
    She unzipped the thin outer pocket of her backpack and pulled out the photo of John Powell. She studied him—the way he stood, hands on hips, shoulders square, chin back as he laughed.
    He didn’t look like a yeti or a lunatic or even one of the Chosen. He looked like a nice, solid guy; the kind of guy she’d like to ask her out. In profile, she couldn’t see his eyes, but someone or something had been looking at her from those bushes yesterday. Was it him?
    Was he watching her with the intention of carrying her into the