Blood Ties Bundle: Blood Ties Book One: The Turning / Blood Ties Book Two: Possession / Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes / Blood Ties Book Four: All Souls' Night. Jennifer Armintrout

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СКАЧАТЬ but I’m not about to indulge in mindless violence with a vampire.”

      “Would it be better if I was a human?” He rolled his eyes. “This will work out some of that aggression. And you can prove to me that you can stand up to Cyrus. It’s a win-win situation. Besides, right now, I’d really like to kick your ass.”

      “Kick my—” My mouth dropped open as I sputtered in resentment. “Oh, I’m going to put the hurt on you so bad!”

      I charged him with no specific plan of attack. My shoulder collided with his midsection. He tumbled backward, and I fell to the floor on top of him. We upended the table on the way down, tarot cards fluttering around us as we struggled.

      My flying hair and our flailing limbs obscured my vision. I swung at him blindly. Pain reverberated down my arm as my fist connected with his jaw.

      Nathan pinned one arm behind me and rolled me onto my back. The hard floorboards bit into my knuckles, and I arched my back to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, this motion pushed my breasts against his chest, and it was more than a little arousing.

      I used my free hand to yank his hair, pulling as hard as I could. He grabbed my wrist, squeezing brutally, and I released my grip. He forced my arm above my head and held it to the floor.

      The anger between us dissipated, abandoning us with only the raw, primal sound of our heavy breathing. I stopped struggling the same time Nathan loosened his grip. Painfully aware of how close our bodies were, I looked into his eyes.

      He pressed his hips against mine. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected.

      “You suck at fighting,” he rasped. He leaned forward, his mouth a millimeter from mine. I closed my eyes and tried to stop my body from trembling. His breath teased my lips, and I shivered.

      The bells above the shop door chimed. Nathan sprang to his feet, using a book from the nearest table as a shield to hide his obvious state of arousal. I rose clumsily beside him and hoped I didn’t look too flushed.

      The customer who entered was about fifty years old and had long, graying hair. She looked us over with knowing brown eyes. “I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be back later.” She gave the overturned table and scattered merchandise a pointed glance before turning toward the door.

      “No, no.” Nathan reached down to right the table. “What can I help you with tonight, Deb?”

      The woman looked from him to me with an expression of uncertainty. I coughed and smiled, trying—quite unsuccessfully—to hide the guilt written all over my face.

      At Nathan’s urging, the customer rattled off a long list of ingredients she needed to make a protection charm. He directed her to the herb pantry at the back of the shop and promised he’d be with her in a moment.

      “Deb is a regular,” he explained, almost apologetically. “You might as well go upstairs.”

      “Not to my apartment?” I asked hopefully.

      He stared at the ground. “Yeah, I was meaning to tell you about that.”

      “It’s completely gone.” I could tell by the look on his face.

      He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Carrie.”

      I went to Nathan’s apartment, my head still spinning. What had I been thinking? I’d met this man just over a week ago, and now I was rolling around on the floor with him. And after his tall, dark and surly act. Had I really become the wilting Southern-belle type, just waiting for a big, brooding Rhett Butler to come and dominate me?

      I wandered around, absentmindedly picking up clothes strewn around the living room. Once the dirty laundry was folded, I moved on to the coffee table.

      I straightened the hopeless pile of books and papers. Not too thoroughly, lest I be accused of snooping again. Thinking of everything he’d said downstairs only made my blood boil, so I gathered stray dishes and dropped them unceremoniously into a sink full of soapy water. I meant to wash them, until the coffee mugs turned the water a soft pink and I lost my stomach for the task.

      My manic cleaning spree continued through the house. In the past nine days, I had become homeless, hunted and, soon, unemployed. I probably had enough money in my bank account for a few months’ rent and utilities, but the point seemed moot since I didn’t have an apartment anymore.

      Did the Voluntary Vampire Extinction Movement pay a salary?

      Nathan had offered blood, shelter and protection. The least I could do was tidy up the place. Because he’s not getting anything else. My behavior downstairs might have raised some of his expectations. I’d have to nip that situation in the bud.

      Moving to his bedroom, I stripped the sheets from the bed and threw them into the corner that appeared to be his dirty-laundry hamper. Vampire or not, it appeared men just couldn’t clean up after themselves.

      A pang of sadness washed over me as I realized I no longer had a home to clean. Or clothes. Or major appliances.

      How had my life suddenly become so complicated? How would I survive as a vampire? How long has it been since he’s flipped his mattress?

      I eyed the goldfish bowl on Nathan’s bedside table as I wrestled the heavy mattress off the box springs. I’d read somewhere that goldfish had a memory span of three seconds. Every three seconds, that poor fish had to come to grips with a new and frightening reality. I could definitely identify with that.

      I lifted the bowl, pressed my face against the cool glass and counted to three. “Surprise.”

      I sighed as I set the container back in its place. It didn’t seem to phase the little orange guy. He just kept on swimming. Another three seconds passed as I wrestled the mattress over and back onto the box springs. Panting and sweating, I looked to the fishbowl. No reaction.

      Fish were survivors.

      I opened the closet doors to look for clean sheets, on the off chance he owned some. There were assorted bare hangers and a few shirts that hadn’t been worn in so long that the shoulders were dusty. Three mismatched tennis shoes huddled together in the corner next to a dried-out, curled-up object that resembled a dead mouse.

      I found a set of sheets on the top shelf and pulled them down. Something heavy and sharp came down with them and landed on my foot. I said a few choice words and leaned over to pick up the offending object. It was a small picture frame, weighty for its size. The picture was yellow and faded.

      A pretty young woman beamed at me from the photograph. She wore a simple white blouse and a long tartan skirt. She clutched a bouquet of wild flowers tightly to her chest. A young man in a plain-looking suit stood next to her. The couple posed on the stone steps of a small country church. I squinted at the man. He bore a remarkable resemblance to…

      I flipped the frame over and carefully removed the photograph. There were no names, but someone had recorded the date. June 23, 1924.

      I stared at the picture. Nathan, just twenty years old, stared back.

      “Carrie? Sorry I took so long, but you wouldn’t believe how that woman can talk about her cats.”

      I put СКАЧАТЬ