Read Online Gifts of the Blood by Vicki Keire - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Vicki Keire
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Former boyfriends had gone so far as to describe me as "energetic" and "graceful." I twisted at the waist, my eyes lingering on the small of my back, remembering Ethan’s steadying hands on me last night. I'd been anything but graceful with him around. He’d kept me from falling. And his jacket… what was it? “For protection,” I murmured, remembering.
As I slipped the warmer of the two shirts on, I knew that, contrary to good sense and even some compelling evidence, at some point last night I’d decided to trust Ethan. It had been my own senseless, mad dash across the concrete outside Mrs. Alice’s shop that had gotten me injured. Ethan had let go immediately when he realized I was hurt. I remembered his look of horror, like he didn’t realize how fragile I was. I remembered the way he held me around the waist, as if I was breakable, and the way he’d moved me around my own room.
Because I was wobbly, for a human. And he was inhumanly fast. I sank onto the edge of my bed with a groan. “Christ, Ethan, what are you, and what are you doing here?” I asked his jacket. “Do I even want to know?”
“Know what?” Amberlyn’s springy curls were confined in a ponytail, but they still managed to bounce in time with her cheerful walk straight to my closet. “What to wear? Because it can’t be that hard, and breakfast is getting cold.” She turned and started rummaging. “I, for one, like my coffee hot.”
“Jesus, Amberlyn!” I shouted, grabbing the first pair of semi-clean jeans I found on the floor. “Don’t you believe in knocking?”
She turned back, arms loaded with clothes, and frowned at my wrinkled jeans. “I brought double-chocolate banana bread. Mr. Peppers just took it out of the pan. It’s still hot.” She handed me my favorite hoodie and two socks that didn't match. “I think that qualifies as grounds for a home invasion.”
I held up my as-yet unbandaged hand. “It’s a two woman job. Help me?”
“It looks better,” she finally said after snapping the last clip in place.
“It is.” In the kitchen, I reached for a stack of plates with my left hand, but Logan’s long arm shot up and restrained me. His dark green Adidas tracksuit pinned me to the sink.
“Hey, Amberlyn.” I felt the deep rumble of his voice against my back. “You giving Cas a ride?”
“You’ve got your oncologist's appointment today,” I said, dodging neatly around him to put the juice out. “You’re going to need the car.”
He nodded. His baseball cap matched his tracksuit, pulled down low enough to hide both his hollow eyes and his completely bald head. “You just always walk everywhere. Andreas is pretty close.”
“It’s finally turned cold enough that she’s consented to ride in the hippie car,” Amberlyn smirked, carving neat slices of breakfast bread so dark and moist it was more like cake.
I actually growled. “You wish it was a hippie car. I hate to break it to you, but anything built this millennia doesn’t qualify. And if you keep calling it that, I will walk, no matter how cold it is.”
Logan just shook his head. He was used to our bickering. He nodded at my hand. “How are you going to manage today with that?”
“School’s easy, actually.” I popped the corner of Mr. Pepper’s best-selling breakfast bread in my mouth and stifled a moan of ecstasy. “Art history is straight lecture. Then we have ceramics, and I’m so terrible in there being left-handed might actually be an improvement.” I ate more bread. “How did you get this fresh, Amberlyn? He usually sells out at dawn, or something.”
She fiddled with her coffee cup. “He held one back for you.”
I choked. “What?”
“That’s what I said.” Logan sat motionless, watching me intently. Amberlyn’s golden-green eyes pleaded with me to understand. “I think he was worried about you, after last night. It’s sweet, really,” she tried to reassure me, but I exploded out of my chair.
I mentally filled in
As I slipped the warmer of the two shirts on, I knew that, contrary to good sense and even some compelling evidence, at some point last night I’d decided to trust Ethan. It had been my own senseless, mad dash across the concrete outside Mrs. Alice’s shop that had gotten me injured. Ethan had let go immediately when he realized I was hurt. I remembered his look of horror, like he didn’t realize how fragile I was. I remembered the way he held me around the waist, as if I was breakable, and the way he’d moved me around my own room.
Because I was wobbly, for a human. And he was inhumanly fast. I sank onto the edge of my bed with a groan. “Christ, Ethan, what are you, and what are you doing here?” I asked his jacket. “Do I even want to know?”
“Know what?” Amberlyn’s springy curls were confined in a ponytail, but they still managed to bounce in time with her cheerful walk straight to my closet. “What to wear? Because it can’t be that hard, and breakfast is getting cold.” She turned and started rummaging. “I, for one, like my coffee hot.”
“Jesus, Amberlyn!” I shouted, grabbing the first pair of semi-clean jeans I found on the floor. “Don’t you believe in knocking?”
She turned back, arms loaded with clothes, and frowned at my wrinkled jeans. “I brought double-chocolate banana bread. Mr. Peppers just took it out of the pan. It’s still hot.” She handed me my favorite hoodie and two socks that didn't match. “I think that qualifies as grounds for a home invasion.”
I held up my as-yet unbandaged hand. “It’s a two woman job. Help me?”
“It looks better,” she finally said after snapping the last clip in place.
“It is.” In the kitchen, I reached for a stack of plates with my left hand, but Logan’s long arm shot up and restrained me. His dark green Adidas tracksuit pinned me to the sink.
“Hey, Amberlyn.” I felt the deep rumble of his voice against my back. “You giving Cas a ride?”
“You’ve got your oncologist's appointment today,” I said, dodging neatly around him to put the juice out. “You’re going to need the car.”
He nodded. His baseball cap matched his tracksuit, pulled down low enough to hide both his hollow eyes and his completely bald head. “You just always walk everywhere. Andreas is pretty close.”
“It’s finally turned cold enough that she’s consented to ride in the hippie car,” Amberlyn smirked, carving neat slices of breakfast bread so dark and moist it was more like cake.
I actually growled. “You wish it was a hippie car. I hate to break it to you, but anything built this millennia doesn’t qualify. And if you keep calling it that, I will walk, no matter how cold it is.”
Logan just shook his head. He was used to our bickering. He nodded at my hand. “How are you going to manage today with that?”
“School’s easy, actually.” I popped the corner of Mr. Pepper’s best-selling breakfast bread in my mouth and stifled a moan of ecstasy. “Art history is straight lecture. Then we have ceramics, and I’m so terrible in there being left-handed might actually be an improvement.” I ate more bread. “How did you get this fresh, Amberlyn? He usually sells out at dawn, or something.”
She fiddled with her coffee cup. “He held one back for you.”
I choked. “What?”
“That’s what I said.” Logan sat motionless, watching me intently. Amberlyn’s golden-green eyes pleaded with me to understand. “I think he was worried about you, after last night. It’s sweet, really,” she tried to reassure me, but I exploded out of my chair.
I mentally filled in
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