Read Online Cinder by Jessica Sorensen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Sorensen
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and my jaw nearly drops to the floor. It looks just like the book that was stolen from me. Sucking in a sharp breath, I open it up, but the wind is instantly knocked out of me.
“What the hell?” I mumble as I fan through the blank pages. I look back at the cover, wondering if I was wrong about it being the same book, but the title is still the same and August Millard is listed at the author.
I immediately take the piece of paper out of my pocket and call Mr. Morgan, but it sends me straight to voicemail. There’s got to be an explanation for this. He’ll explain it, right? He’ll know what the words on the pages meant, right? I’m not so sure.
I’m not so sure about anything anymore.
I shut the book, set it aside, then flop down on the bed. None of this makes sense. I need some sort of answers. What I need is someone to talk to.“Cameron, can you hear me?” I ask and then wince at my desperation.
I try again and again without any response. After the fifth attempt, I finally turn up some music, a little Breaking Benjamin, hoping that will help with the quiet, yet there’s still emptiness around me and inside me. “God, I can’t take it anymore.” The soundlessness. The seclusion. Everyone I have no longer talks to me, and I can’t talk to them because I’m not sure if they’re still themselves. I wish it’d be over. God, just get it over with. I can’t take it anymore. “Please, just make it…” I trail off, realizing where I’m heading and how I can’t go there, especially after what Cameron told me. I can’t give up. Give in. “Is that what’s going on?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is all this loneliness part of the torture, the Reapers’ new way to get to me? Leave me alone to let me rot in my own lonely existence.”
Now, how would I know what they’re up to? He answers and then unexpectedly the music turns down. “I’ve already told you that I don’t want them to have you and therefore I have nothing to do with them…. I want you for myself.”
My eyes shoot open at the sound of his voice around me instead of in my head. He’s standing near the doorway of my room, dressed in normal clothes; a loose pair of name brand jeans, a fitted grey shirt, and his blonde hair lightly tousled.
“So you finally decided to show yourself.” I sit up on the bed. “Instead of just cowering inside my head.”
He laughs wickedly as he skims over the contents of my room with intrigue. “I wasn’t cowering, princess. You just made it clear that you’re in dire need of some company and I thought I’d step up and help out, since I care for you.”
I smooth my long, black hair into place as I lower my feet over the edge of the bed. “Like hell you do. And besides, I don’t want your help.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“You say that now,” he says, entering my room. He picks up a feather from my dresser and I have the most overwhelming urge to snatch it from his hand, especially since Asher had held it once when he was in my room. “But eventually you’ll want me.” He touches the feather with the tip of his finger, smiling at himself since it’s a raven’s feather and he can shift into a raven. Then he sets it back down on the dresser. “Especially for what’s in store for you in the very near future.” He says it with implication.
“What do you mean?” I stand up from my bed. “Are you talking about the omen I saw?”
He nods his gaze boring into me and it makes my skin feel like it’s crawling and spontaneously combusting at the same time. “I’ve been hearing stuff and I think something’s going down in the Angel/Reaper battle,” he finally says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Something that requires a lot of sacrifice of innocent people so that someone can get a lot of power, which I’m guessing might be linked to the death omen you saw… all those deaths are a great source of power.”
“And do you think the
“What the hell?” I mumble as I fan through the blank pages. I look back at the cover, wondering if I was wrong about it being the same book, but the title is still the same and August Millard is listed at the author.
I immediately take the piece of paper out of my pocket and call Mr. Morgan, but it sends me straight to voicemail. There’s got to be an explanation for this. He’ll explain it, right? He’ll know what the words on the pages meant, right? I’m not so sure.
I’m not so sure about anything anymore.
I shut the book, set it aside, then flop down on the bed. None of this makes sense. I need some sort of answers. What I need is someone to talk to.“Cameron, can you hear me?” I ask and then wince at my desperation.
I try again and again without any response. After the fifth attempt, I finally turn up some music, a little Breaking Benjamin, hoping that will help with the quiet, yet there’s still emptiness around me and inside me. “God, I can’t take it anymore.” The soundlessness. The seclusion. Everyone I have no longer talks to me, and I can’t talk to them because I’m not sure if they’re still themselves. I wish it’d be over. God, just get it over with. I can’t take it anymore. “Please, just make it…” I trail off, realizing where I’m heading and how I can’t go there, especially after what Cameron told me. I can’t give up. Give in. “Is that what’s going on?” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Is all this loneliness part of the torture, the Reapers’ new way to get to me? Leave me alone to let me rot in my own lonely existence.”
Now, how would I know what they’re up to? He answers and then unexpectedly the music turns down. “I’ve already told you that I don’t want them to have you and therefore I have nothing to do with them…. I want you for myself.”
My eyes shoot open at the sound of his voice around me instead of in my head. He’s standing near the doorway of my room, dressed in normal clothes; a loose pair of name brand jeans, a fitted grey shirt, and his blonde hair lightly tousled.
“So you finally decided to show yourself.” I sit up on the bed. “Instead of just cowering inside my head.”
He laughs wickedly as he skims over the contents of my room with intrigue. “I wasn’t cowering, princess. You just made it clear that you’re in dire need of some company and I thought I’d step up and help out, since I care for you.”
I smooth my long, black hair into place as I lower my feet over the edge of the bed. “Like hell you do. And besides, I don’t want your help.” Lie. Lie. Lie.
“You say that now,” he says, entering my room. He picks up a feather from my dresser and I have the most overwhelming urge to snatch it from his hand, especially since Asher had held it once when he was in my room. “But eventually you’ll want me.” He touches the feather with the tip of his finger, smiling at himself since it’s a raven’s feather and he can shift into a raven. Then he sets it back down on the dresser. “Especially for what’s in store for you in the very near future.” He says it with implication.
“What do you mean?” I stand up from my bed. “Are you talking about the omen I saw?”
He nods his gaze boring into me and it makes my skin feel like it’s crawling and spontaneously combusting at the same time. “I’ve been hearing stuff and I think something’s going down in the Angel/Reaper battle,” he finally says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Something that requires a lot of sacrifice of innocent people so that someone can get a lot of power, which I’m guessing might be linked to the death omen you saw… all those deaths are a great source of power.”
“And do you think the
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