Read Online Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3) by Morgan Blayde - Free Book Online
Authors: Morgan Blayde
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tenderness of the demon mark. The skin felt sunburned.
Mom jerked her hand away, staring at my arm. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t know you’d hurt your arm. It’s not even bandaged.”
That’s all she had to say?
“How’s it look?” I asked.
“Red, swollen. Does it hurt a lot?”
“No, not really.” My arm looked normal to me—except for the demon brand. It was strange that mom couldn’t she see the black mark. If I had something that looked to her like a tattoo, she’d have been unable to resist jerking my chain. I’d razzed my sister relentlessly about her inking herself up—not that I actually objected in principle. Tormenting one’s pole dancing sister is a constitutional right, in there somewhere with the right to bare arms and legs and whatever else needs baring.
Mom helped me totter out from between the beds, passing a TV in a metal frame that dangled from the ceiling. Sweat lined my face. Every breath hurt. My collarbone ached as well. Even my hair hurt. But a human wouldn’t be so functional, so fast. I had a lot to be thankful for.
The door to my room opened. Sanchez stuck her head in. Seeing me up caused a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on? A prison break?” She muttered something to Kendall, and came into the room.
“Bathroom break,” I explained.
Sanchez crowded in, displacing my mom. “Here, let me do it.” She gripped my wrist, pulling up my arm. For a moment, I thought she was going for a fireman’s carry, slinging me over her shoulders. But she turned and brought my arm across her shoulders, sliding her free arm across my lower back. I leaned into her, taking an experimental first step.
Sanchez had replaced her military fatigues with dark slacks and top, and a bulky coat left unzipped so she could reach whatever gun nestled in her holster. She still smelled of gun oil and clove-flavored gum. “Easy there. One step at a time, kid.” Her grip was strong. She felt rock solid under my arm. Here was a lady who took physical conditioning seriously. I wondered if she’d like to go running with me sometime—when my life wasn’t in imminent danger.
She left me on the porcelain throne and went back out. With my kitsune hearing, the conversation came easily through the closed door as I took care of business. Standing, I leaned against the wall, then the sink, washing up. Seeing my sweaty hair in a bird’s-nest tangle made me wince. I looked tired and starved despite the naps. The stark lighting washed out natural coloring. Looking ghastly, I smelled less than fresh. I so wanted a long hot shower. Unfortunately, the best I could hope for was probably a sponge bath.
Now, if only I could get Shaun to volunteer for that little chore.
Once more, my stomach reminded me I was neglecting it. Hold on. They’ve got to have food around here someplace. I’ve just got to bribe someone to smuggle me something good.
I threw water on my face, vowed to borrow a hairbrush from mom, and pulled my gown aside enough to look myself over. A bandage. I pulled the edge up enough to peek underneath. Stitches . Well what had I expected? The damage should have been bad enough to keep me in bed. If I had any doubts about being not of this world , this would have chased them down and clubbed them to death. I felt the last of my humanity crumbling, blowing away, and wondered just what was going to replace it.
My shadow-man DNA? Dad was a shadow-man, a king, whose shadow could drown the world in darkness. The thought of turning literally into nothing was scary. What if, after a while, I couldn’t come back to being me? Safer to just take a long hard look at Cassie. She could teach me what it meant to be kitsune.
But there was an emotional tar pit waiting to devour me. She insisted I call her Mom. She wanted to recover all those years we’d lost by being apart—all the lost birthdays
Mom jerked her hand away, staring at my arm. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t know you’d hurt your arm. It’s not even bandaged.”
That’s all she had to say?
“How’s it look?” I asked.
“Red, swollen. Does it hurt a lot?”
“No, not really.” My arm looked normal to me—except for the demon brand. It was strange that mom couldn’t she see the black mark. If I had something that looked to her like a tattoo, she’d have been unable to resist jerking my chain. I’d razzed my sister relentlessly about her inking herself up—not that I actually objected in principle. Tormenting one’s pole dancing sister is a constitutional right, in there somewhere with the right to bare arms and legs and whatever else needs baring.
Mom helped me totter out from between the beds, passing a TV in a metal frame that dangled from the ceiling. Sweat lined my face. Every breath hurt. My collarbone ached as well. Even my hair hurt. But a human wouldn’t be so functional, so fast. I had a lot to be thankful for.
The door to my room opened. Sanchez stuck her head in. Seeing me up caused a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on? A prison break?” She muttered something to Kendall, and came into the room.
“Bathroom break,” I explained.
Sanchez crowded in, displacing my mom. “Here, let me do it.” She gripped my wrist, pulling up my arm. For a moment, I thought she was going for a fireman’s carry, slinging me over her shoulders. But she turned and brought my arm across her shoulders, sliding her free arm across my lower back. I leaned into her, taking an experimental first step.
Sanchez had replaced her military fatigues with dark slacks and top, and a bulky coat left unzipped so she could reach whatever gun nestled in her holster. She still smelled of gun oil and clove-flavored gum. “Easy there. One step at a time, kid.” Her grip was strong. She felt rock solid under my arm. Here was a lady who took physical conditioning seriously. I wondered if she’d like to go running with me sometime—when my life wasn’t in imminent danger.
She left me on the porcelain throne and went back out. With my kitsune hearing, the conversation came easily through the closed door as I took care of business. Standing, I leaned against the wall, then the sink, washing up. Seeing my sweaty hair in a bird’s-nest tangle made me wince. I looked tired and starved despite the naps. The stark lighting washed out natural coloring. Looking ghastly, I smelled less than fresh. I so wanted a long hot shower. Unfortunately, the best I could hope for was probably a sponge bath.
Now, if only I could get Shaun to volunteer for that little chore.
Once more, my stomach reminded me I was neglecting it. Hold on. They’ve got to have food around here someplace. I’ve just got to bribe someone to smuggle me something good.
I threw water on my face, vowed to borrow a hairbrush from mom, and pulled my gown aside enough to look myself over. A bandage. I pulled the edge up enough to peek underneath. Stitches . Well what had I expected? The damage should have been bad enough to keep me in bed. If I had any doubts about being not of this world , this would have chased them down and clubbed them to death. I felt the last of my humanity crumbling, blowing away, and wondered just what was going to replace it.
My shadow-man DNA? Dad was a shadow-man, a king, whose shadow could drown the world in darkness. The thought of turning literally into nothing was scary. What if, after a while, I couldn’t come back to being me? Safer to just take a long hard look at Cassie. She could teach me what it meant to be kitsune.
But there was an emotional tar pit waiting to devour me. She insisted I call her Mom. She wanted to recover all those years we’d lost by being apart—all the lost birthdays
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