- •I’m definitely blushing now from his compliment. “Fittie,” that’s like extreme hotness. I never think of myself that way. He must be a playa or something.
- •I go rigid when I hear echoing undertones in Reed’s voice. The student immediately leaves without a word. Reed’s green eyes shift back to mine as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
- •I can almost believe that he’s teasing me; if that isn’t the most ridiculous notion I have had thus far. “I just knew I was going to regret that question,” I mumble as I blush.
- •I stare at him in utter amazement. “Ha, ha, you’re funny, Russell. You know who I am,” I say, but I see by the look on his face that he is confused now.
- •I stare at it breathlessly before I find my voice to ask, “Russell, your necklace…” I want to reach out and touch it, but my hands are shaking, so I put them in my lap to hide them.
- •I see him smile for a second until he reads the serious look on my face, then his smile falters. “Ya do wut?”
- •I squeeze his hand lightly and reply, ““He’s more of a techie than a sportsman.”
- •I shrug, and say with a small smile, “Megan totally fell for it, too. It was worth the stink eye she gave me.”
- •I recognize it immediately as an ip address. “You got it! I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” I say proudly, reaching over and giving him a soft tap on the shoulder.
- •I could spot Reed from a mile away, even with his helmet and face guard on. It is the stealthy, predatory way he moves that completely gives him away.
- •I ignore his confidence in the fact that my knee is going to all but fix itself shortly. “Wouldn’t that be off the hook?” I mutter, and take another sip of cognac.
- •I frown at him while I nod.
- •I hesitate before saying, “But you haven’t done it yet, so one can only assume that you may have envisioned a scenario in which eliminating me is not advantageous?”
- •I turn to see my new professor hailing me back into the classroom. I walk back in slowly, unsure of why Mr. MacKinnon is singling me out. “Yes?” I ask.
- •I look away from him, replying sarcastically, “Well, you can tell jt and Pete for me that the next time they hold a knitting bee and gossip circle, I could use a new sweater!”
- •I give him a funny look, then explain, “Your vitals—your email and all of the websites you think you need to sweep,” I say, smiling at his anti-geek question.
- •I program my number in Freddie’s cell, and then giving it back to him, I look at Russell. “I was going to tell you,” I lie to Russell.
- •I take a huge bite of oatmeal and chew it demonstratively, “Mmmm…oatmeal…my favorite.”
- •It takes me several breaths to answer him because I have never seen him smile like that—it’s intoxicating, especially because I never thought he would smile like that at me.
- •I don’t look at him, but hold the stick tighter. “Because I need it,” I reply evasively.
- •It’s probably nothing to him if I get hurt. I mean, why would he care?
- •I rest my hand on his chest, before cautiously peeking around him. Coffee grounds litter the floor by the coffee maker. “Coffee?” I whisper.
- •I’m not disappointed; it is extremely dreadful to me when he says, “Destroying evil. Fighting the legions of the Fallen damned. I’m a soldier, Evie, an assassin…I told you that.”
- •I stir uneasily to see his face, asking, “But if protecting me will be dangerous for you, why would you take on that responsibility?” He’s crazy to get involved with me.
- •I sigh. “I mean, what are they like when you’re not fighting?” I probe, hoping to get a glimpse into his world.
- •It would’ve been much nicer to hear him say he was ecstatic that I exist, so I try to ignore his comment and ask, “So I can’t tell anyone?”
- •I sigh, “Do you want to come with me?”
- •I set my plate on the table next to Reed’s as he pulls my chair out for me. “Better?” he asks when I am seated.
- •I think for a second, and then say in disappointment, “Oh, yeah, I get that I’m a frustrating creature.”
- •I give a little shrug, “You probably would’ve made the second half, but the Kappas had to forfeit—it was a shut out,” I reply, grateful that there’ll be no second half.
- •I nod, feeling a lump forming in my throat. “So, are you saying that it probably thought that I was one of them—an evil spawn released on the world to destroy it?”
- •I think I really touched a nerve in Reed because he seems to want to say something else as his eyes argue with mine, but after a few seconds, he nods while he says, “Of course. Goodnight, Genevieve.”
- •I try to smile back at Owen, but I hear two sets of growls, one from Reed and the other from Russell. “Thank you, Owen,” I reply, but I’m on edge now, waiting for the next shot to be fired at me.
- •I almost smile, because as I glance around the table, everyone here looks to be feeling completely awkward. Everyone, that is, with the exception of Reed; he’s cool and removed from all of this.
- •I am about to leave but he holds my arm and says, “You should be with Russell.”
- •I let out a breath like he has punched me in the stomach. Holy Freaking Crap! He’s an angel! Don’t freak out—ask him his name, like you’re interested—buy time, I think.
- •I try desperately to reason with Russell again, “We have to help Reed!”
- •I stop kissing him. Straightening, I search his stormy-green eyes again. “But that’s cruel,” I murmur warily.
- •I take a step back from Reed, frowning at him because he knows his voice doesn’t work on me. “Reed…” I say, holding my ears, trying to get the ringing to stop.
- •I don’t get a chance to finish, because he is up rushing around again. “No, we go tonight,” he says as he continues to pack my things.
- •I frown. “Oh…” I breathe, trailing off.
- •I cringe. “I’m only half human,” I correct him softly.
- •I am startled by the angel’s soft, deadly tone as he says, “No, I think I will stay. Something very interesting just walked in.”
- •I shake my head. “I never met my father. I didn’t know that he was an angel until recently,” I reply.
- •I don’t even want to talk about their color, I think.
- •I swear, if he keeps doing that I might purr like a kitten. Don’t think about that right now, just concentrate!
- •Intense frustration shoots through me then as I open my eyes. “Why are you stopping?” I demand breathlessly, searching his face, which looks a bit too smug for my liking.
- •I pull Russell over to the sofa. Sitting down in the middle of it, I make Russell sit next to me. “Did they realize that you were watching them?” I ask him pointedly.
- •I’m not doing this well! He doesn’t understand. I have to do something, but what? I think in desperation.
- •I stop smiling when Reed says, “Evie, we really do have to leave Crestwood now. This place is going to be crawling with curious angels.”
- •In the morning, I awake to sun streaming in the windows of Reed’s guest bedroom. Reed is next to me when I open my eyes.
- •I interrupt him. “Why would my soul give you redemption? How do you know that it’s not evil and would bar you from your Paradise?” I ask him searchingly.
- •I wince at his words. “Purify it? How?” I ask him urgently.
- •I rest my hand on his arm pleadingly. “You don’t want to do this, Freddie.” I say, trying to reason with him. “You and Russell are friends. Russell loves you, I know it,” I beg.
- •I sniffle. “So…Russell’s alive?” I ask.
- •I shake my head. “No, not yet. I don’t want anyone but you right now,” I whisper honestly. “Is he okay?” I ask as Reed tucks the blankets back around me.
- •I sigh tiredly, rubbing my forehead. “Ugh, there is so much to do. I don’t even know where my books are,” I say unhappily. “I have to do well or I’ll lose my scholarship.”
- •I can feel my face paling. “Russell, Alfred is still out there. He still wants my soul, so you aren’t safe until we get him,” I say with urgency.
- •Intuition: The Premonition Series
- •I give Buns a skeptical look. I doubt that any of them would ever think I’m darling. “Pampering is for wimps,” I say, trying to make light of it all.
- •I look over at Reed and see him frowning. “Buns, can you find something else…something a little more feasible…tactically?” he asks.
I go rigid when I hear echoing undertones in Reed’s voice. The student immediately leaves without a word. Reed’s green eyes shift back to mine as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
His eyebrow rises thoughtfully as he asks, “Is that what you think this is about? That I’m being a big fish and asserting some kind of supremacy over you?” The corners of his lips twitch with irritation before he asks, “What if I tell you we aren’t in a pond? What if I say we happen to be in an ocean, and the coral reef we’re living in will soon be teeming with the worst kind of sharks that only a fish like you can attract?”
“And what kind of fish attracts sharks like that?” I ask feebly, wondering if he’s crazy or if I am.
“A fish that has never been seen before. A brand new fish that could change the ecosystem of the entire ocean,” he replies, watching me close.
It takes me a second to process his response. I try to give a little laugh, but it sounds hollow, even to my own ears. Faking an indifferent smile, I reply, “That is quite a special fish…and where in this vast ocean could a fish like that go, you know, to avoid those sharks that would like to get it?”
“There isn’t a safe place for the little fish in all of the oceans of this world,” Reed says flatly, and there seems to be a hint of pity in his response.
The pity scares me more than if he had sneered at me. I feel crushed, and the air is suddenly too thin to breathe. “Well,” I manage to say as my throat tightens, “what if I stay and try to have as much fun as I can until the sharks come? I promise I won’t mention you to them.”
“The sharks would know about me, even without your mentioning me to them. They have a great sense of smell, those sharks,” Reed says quietly.
“But if they just came for me, would they even bother with you? After all, you wouldn’t really have anything to do with me. It’s not like you’re helping me. In fact, I’m pretty sure that you hate me. That may garner points for you, with the sharks.” My voice falters as I add, “I can’t go home. I would bring the sharks there, wouldn’t I?”
Reed nods solemnly.
“No, I can’t do that; I have an uncle who loves me…” I say, raising a shaky hand to my forehead.
I have to think, why can’t I think? Shock—maybe panic.
I exhale deeply before I ask, “So, since you know I’m not a fish, and I know you’re not a fish, what does that make us?”
Reed stands up from his chair and leans across the table, motioning to me to do the same. His cheek brushes mine softly as he whispers, “That makes us completely and utterly screwed.”
It takes me a second to understand what he just said because being near him is intoxicating. “That’s not what I meant,” I whisper back when I recover. “What I meant was…”
“I know what you meant,” he all but growls in frustration.
“I get that you want me to leave; that’s crystal clear, but look at it from my point of view for a second. What would you do if you were me—if you found someone who seems to know what’s up with you? You asked me about my father, at the lake, remember? What do you know about him?” I ask him, trying to hide my growing desperation.
“I don’t know who your father is,” Reed says evasively.
“Okay, who do you suspect he is?” I ask with dogged persistence.
Reed’s eyes soften, “What are you, prelaw?” he asks.
“Maybe, I haven’t decided yet. I thought that there would be plenty of time to figure out a major, but apparently, I was wrong,” I say softly. “Never mind. I have to know what you know. You have to tell me what’s going on. Maybe you can tell me why I keep having the same nightmare over and over.”
“You have seen visions?” he asks abruptly, searching my face for an answer.
“Well, I’m not sure you can call them ‘visions.’ It’s more like having the same nightmare every night. What do you think it means?” I ask him.
His jaw sets stubbornly.
“You know, but you’re not going to say?” I ask in frustration. “Okay, how about an easier question. Why does my stomach flutter like it’s filled with a thousand butterflies whenever I get near you? And I don’t mean when I see you, I mean before I see you,” I inquire as I search his face.
That question makes him look completely superior because his face changes instantly from stubborn to smug, but he doesn’t answer that one either. “I can tell that I’m going to regret having asked that question,” I say, muttering to myself.
He loses some of his smug smile as he says, “I can’t tell you anything. You may be what you appear to be, or you may be something else entirely. I have to be sure before I do anything. If you are what I think you are, you probably won’t believe me and will want proof, and I can’t give that to you now. I don’t even know if I should help you out at all,” he says grimly. “But since you’re here, and apparently you’re staying, we will have to see what we can do to camouflage you, at least until I am sure about you.”
My eyes narrow, “Why should I trust you?” I counter. “You have made no secret of the fact that you hate me.”
His eyes soften again. “Hate you?” he asks. “Not as much as you might think. And then there is the…what was it…butterflies? That can’t be a bad thing, can it?”