- •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 squeeze his hand lightly and reply, ““He’s more of a techie than a sportsman.”
“Can he tell me why my computer is lockin’ up and makin’ me reboot after bein’ on only fifteen minutes?” Russell asks offhand.
“Sure, give me your IP address, and I’ll email it to him. Turn your computer on when you get back to your room and make sure you have access to the Internet. He’ll either fix it or tell you what you need.”
“Are ya serious?” Russell asks in amazement.
“Oh, there is one thing we take very seriously in our family, which is comprised of Uncle Jim and myself, and that’s technology. Do you have a firewall?” I ask.
“Umm, no, I don’t think so,” he replies.
“Russell, no wonder it’s not working. Do you know how easy it is to get into your computer? Not to mention that you’re open to attack from viruses, worms, and Trojans. We’re getting you a firewall!” I say adamantly.
With a sexy grin, he replies, “Okay! We’ll get a firewall or a whole darn fire station if we need to. Now, explain to me an IP address and the Trojan thing sounds interestin’, too,” he says, revealing just how anti-geek he is.
I roll my eyes at him. “When you go back to your dorm for the dorm meeting at four, talk to Freddie. I think he’ll know what an IP address is and will help you get it off of your computer. I can get it from him at dinner.”
“Yer having supper with Freddie?” Russell asks as we stop in front of Yeats. There is an edge to his voice that I haven’t heard before. It sounds suspiciously like Russell is jealous, but that would be insane.
“Yeah, I asked him if he wanted to have dinner with me when we were at breakfast this morning,” I say, noticing that Russell dropped his eyes. “You can come too, you know. It’s not an exclusive thing.”
“Oh,” Russell says in relief. “I wish I could come. The coach scheduled a team meal tonight at the field house. He’s tryin’ to promote unity—they’re havin’ it catered. I don’t think I can bail ‘til at least seven.”
“The food might be better than Saga,” I agree.
“Well, that goes without sayin’. So, when can I see ya again?” he asks me, smiling and showing his sweet dimples in his cheeks.
“I don’t know. How about tomorrow sometime?” I ask him, wondering when I’m going to stop being surprised about his interest in me.
“How ‘bout tonight? We could go for a walk after supper,” Russell suggests.
“Okay,” I agree as my heart beats a little faster in my chest.
“Do ya have a phone? Can I call ya, or text ya when I’m done with the supper thing at the field house?” he asks, producing his cell phone from his bag.
“Sure.” I give him my number and he programs it into the contacts of his phone. Finding my phone at the bottom of my own bag, I program his number into it. Russell then hands me my books out of his bag.
“I’ll see y’all tonight,” he says before smiling and walking away.
CHAPTER 5
Field Hockey
I walk down the stairs to the lobby from my room before turning left towards the formal reception hall of Yeats. The dorm meeting starts in five minutes, so I have time to look around and find a seat. A sign-in sheet is on a table outside the room and the residents are lining up to check in.
Peering over the shoulder of the brunette coed in line ahead of me, I see that the reception room has several elaborately carved mahogany tables with matching chairs; it also boasts a grand fireplace with leather armchairs around it. Old photos of students past cover the walls; the gilded frames reflect the light from the elegant crystal chandelier.
The RA I’d met yesterday, I think her name is Megan, is posted like a sentry outside the room. She is scrutinizing each student signing in as if she is TSA at an airport screening. I am nearly to the front of the line when an upperclassman with honey blond hair and cornflower blue eyes stops me by tapping me on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” she whispers, looking over my shoulder at the RA.
“Yes?” I whisper back, not really knowing why we’re keeping our voices low.
“You live on the second floor, right?” she asks me conspiratorially, tucking her long hair behind her ear.
My eyes widen as I reply, “Um, yeah—two o eight—I’m Evie.”
“That’s a single room—you must be on smart-girl scholarship. I’m Buns,” she whispers quickly, and then she smiles when she sees my crooked smile. “My real name’s Christine Bonds, but everyone just calls me Buns.”
“Oh,” I reply, not really sure how to respond to that, but she saves me by forging on.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” she whispers quickly. “I was wondering if you could help me out?” she asks, peering over my shoulder again at the RA ahead of us. “My roommate couldn’t make it to this meeting, but if she doesn’t come, she’ll get in trouble with the house mother. So, I was wondering if maybe you could distract the RA for me so that I can sign her in?”
I look away from Buns, back to RA Megan. She’s still watching every name being added as if terrorists are afoot. Glancing beyond Megan, I notice that there is another mahogany table with several large stacks of handouts on it.
Turning back to Buns, I whisper, “Um, I think I have an idea. Give me just a second.”
When it’s my turn to sign in, I add my name to the list. Strolling casually toward the table with the packets on it, I pretend to trip over my own feet; then I launch myself at the table with my arms out, and I sprawl into it, knocking the stacks of handouts off the tabletop and onto the carpet beneath it. To make sure I’ve gotten Megan’s attention, I say loudly, “Oh oww!”
I know I shouldn’t look over at Buns to see if my ploy is working, so I immediately begin picking up the papers from the floor and arranging them in stacks where they’d been. RA Megan hurries over to help me, and I feel guilty for about half a second until she says, “Freshman,” under her breath and rolls her eyes at me in a derogatory way.
“Sorry…not too bright, huh?” I ask, knowing that she thinks I am referring to myself and not her.
Buns joins us then, helping me pick up the remaining handouts. We each take a packet and then hurry over to a pair of delicate wing-backed chairs in the corner by the bookcase. “Thanks, sweetie!” Buns whispers to me as her blue eyes sparkle with humor.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, facing all the staring eyes of the other coeds who had witnessed my fake fall. Some of the girls are still smirking, talking about me behind their hands.
Buns seems not to notice them. “You think fast on your feet! I probably could’ve added the entire lacrosse team’s names to the sign-in sheet with all of the time you gave me!” she gushes.