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 I did because an awkward silence lingered between us as we both tried not to look at the bed.

      He stretched his arm behind his head and yawned to avoid eye contact. “Hey, about earlier tonight, when we—”

      “Forget it,” I said quickly. I knew I would. There was no reason to hang on to the memory when we’d be enemies this time tomorrow.

      I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes, but he shook it off with a contrived laugh. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. We were just caught up in the moment and things got out of hand.”

      “Absolutely,” I agreed. “It’s a total nonissue.”

      “Well, then, I guess I’m going to go look over my insurance papers for the shop. Did you want to watch TV or something?”

      “No, I’m actually pretty tired.” I looked at the bed. “Do you want me to take the couch tonight?”

      He pointed a finger at me. “Today, Carrie. Get on vampire time. But no, I’ll be up for a while and I don’t want to disturb you. We can work out better sleeping arrangements tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow,” I said, suddenly numb.

      With a look of concern on his face, he reached out and gave my arm a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

      “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a lie. But when we said our good-nights and he left me alone in his bedroom, I couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, I looked around the room for a pen and paper. On the floor, between the bed and the wall, I found a sketchbook with a drawing pencil tucked into the coiled binding. It would do.

      I flipped open the cover and paused. An incredibly beautiful, almost photographic-looking drawing of a sleeping child took up the first page. In the margin, in distinctly masculine handwriting that sharply contrasted the skilled lines of the drawing, was written, Ziggy, age eleven.

      Turning the pages, I found a succession of similar drawings. They were mostly of Ziggy at various stages of his teen years, sleeping. From what little I knew of Ziggy, I realized the only time he’d hold still long enough to be sketched would be while he was unconscious. The few portraits of Ziggy awake were accompanied by photos paper-clipped to them. I flipped to the last pages, hoping to find some blank sheets. The final drawing froze my blood in my veins.

      It was like looking at a photograph of the night we’d first met. He’d obviously drawn it from memory, as the coat I’d worn ended at the hips, not the knees, and my hair had been up, not curling softly around my shoulders. But it was unmistakably me.

      I was flattered, but I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of freak spent time in moony daydreams about someone they’d known for less than two weeks.

      But then again, what kind of freak trades their freedom for the life of someone they’ve known for less than two weeks?

      Trembling, I pulled the page free from the binding and folded it small enough to fit into the back pocket of my jeans. Something to remember him by, I supposed. Then I tore out a blank piece and started writing.

      The first letter I wrote was easier than I expected. My resignation from the hospital was simple, professional and, as it was handwritten in pencil on notebook paper, probably the last nail in the coffin of my medical career.

      But it really wouldn’t matter. Nathan was right. Eventually, people would notice I didn’t age. Unlike Nathan, there was no way I’d ever pass for forty. Judging from how often I’ve been carded buying beer, I could barely pass for twenty-one. I’d have to redo college and medical school every ten years just to keep being a doctor. It would be like hell, only worse.

      I’d slip that letter under the door of Dr. Fuller’s office before I arrived at Cyrus’s house tomorrow night.

      I took out another sheet and began the more difficult farewell.

      Nathan,

      I’m not going to pretend we’ll ever see each other again, at least not on friendly terms. I’ve decided that the best place for me is with my sire. Please know that while I wish you only the best, I understand you have a job to do for the Movement. I won’t take it personally if you try to follow that assignment through, but be aware that I will fight you with my last breath. No one has the power to decide whether I live or die. If you ever felt the slightest friendship toward me, you’ll forget I ever existed.

      Carrie

      Ten

      Sunset

      As much as I tried to ignore what I was about to do, I couldn’t quiet my mind enough to sleep. Instead, I consolidated my clothes into a shopping bag and waited, staring at Nathan’s alarm clock like a death row inmate. Soon, my time would be up.

      For a while, I listened to Nathan puttering around in the living room. Though he’d claimed to be set on an evening of reviewing insurance forms and serious concentration, all I heard was the popping of microwave popcorn and Led Zeppelin. He listened to Houses of the Holy twice before I heard the springs of the couch creak as he settled in to sleep.

      Ziggy left at about eight o’clock. When I heard him return at noon, I opened the bedroom door and waited for him to notice that I was awake.

      It didn’t take him long. His stocky frame filled the doorway, and he toyed with the huge skull ring on his index finger to avoid looking at me. “So, my guess is you’re leaving.”

      “Yes.” I sat on the edge of the bed, which was currently experiencing the foreign pleasure of clean sheets. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

      “You made a deal with Cyrus.” He didn’t pose it as a question. The kid wasn’t a fool.

      “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Nathan about it. He doesn’t need to know.”

      “And I’m going to lie to Nate because you’ve done what for me lately?” Ziggy demanded.

      “I’m asking you not to tell him as a friend. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

      “Why? Are you going to hurt him?” he asked as he turned to look into the living room, pulling a wooden stake from his back pocket. “Nate’s my dad. He’s taken care of me since I was nine years old. There’s no reason not to kill you if you’re threatening him.”

      “I’m not threatening him. I just don’t want him coming after me. Cyrus would kill him.”

      Ziggy laughed. “Yeah, like you’re not trying to save your ass the only way you know how. What the fuck do you want?”

      I wanted to forget all this had ever happened and get some sleep. I wanted to wake up and help them salvage smoke-damaged dream catchers from the shop. I wanted anything but to go back to Cyrus’s house. I’d spend an eternity in that house. But I just handed him my letter. “Give this to him after I’ve gotten a head start.”

      He didn’t read it immediately, like I thought he would. “Fine. Anything else?”

      I watched him slip the note into his pocket, and I closed my eyes. My throat suddenly went dry. “No.”

      “He likes СКАЧАТЬ