01 Some Girls Bite by Chloe Neill

Author:Chloe Neill [Neill, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0451226259
Publisher: NAL Trade
Published: 2009-04-02T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

THERE’S NOT MUCH WRONG THAT

CHUNKY MONKEY CAN’T FIX.

I thought I was in a coffin. I thought I was the brunt of some horrible Navarre joke, or some horrible Cadogan hazing ritual, and I’d been stuffed into a pine box like the dead girl I’d once thought I was. Starting to hyperventilate, I clawed at the blankets around me, then pounded on the walls, screaming for someone to let me out. I fell forward when Mallory pulled the door open, landing face-first in her poofy slippers. Face flush with embarrassment, I rose to my elbows, spitting out bits of pink polyester fuzz. So much for the hard-ass vamp. Mallory’s voice was strangled, and I could tell she was working hard not to laugh. “What. The. Hell.” “Bad night. Really bad night.” I sat down on the floor, tucking my legs beneath me, and checked the status of my arm. It was lobster red from fingers to elbow, but the blisters were gone. Supernatural healing was a handy trick for an absentminded vampire, although it would make my enemies harder to kill. Tit for tat, I guess. Mallory crouched beside me. “Jesus, Mer. What happened to your arm?” I sighed and spent a few seconds wallowing in self-pity. “Vampire. Sunlight. Poof.” I waved my arms in the shape of a mushroom cloud. “Third-degree burns.” “Dare I ask why you were sleeping in the closet?” I didn’t want to embarrass her with a replay of her late-night antics, so I shrugged off the question. “Fell asleep, got too close to the sun, hunkered down.” “Come on,” she said, taking my free elbow and helping me to my feet. “Let’s at least put some aloe on your arm. Does it hurt a lot? Never mind. Don’t answer that.

You’ve got a master’s degree in English and you’ve yet to string a subject and predicate together. I’ll draw my own conclusions.” “Mallory!” Catcher’s voice boomed down the stairs. Mallory fixed her mouth into a tight line and walked me into the kitchen. “Ignore it,” she advised. “Much like the bubonic plague, it’ll go away if you give it enough time.”

“Mallory! You weren’t finished! Get back in here!” I glanced up the stairway. “You didn’t leave him handcuffed to the bed or something, did you?” “Jesus, no.” I incrementally relaxed, until she continued. “My headboard’s a single piece of wood. There’s nothing to handcuff him to.” I groaned and tried to wipe the image of a naked, bound Catcher writhing on the bed from my mind. Not that it was a bad image, but still . . . Mallory kept us moving toward the kitchen. “He’s pissed because he doesn’t think I’m paying attention to his incessant goddamn lectures on magic.” Her voice went lower, and she mimicked, “Mallory Delancey Carmichael, you’re a fourth-class sorcerer with duties and obligations, blah blah blah. I think I understand now why the Order kicked him out; he was too bossy, even for them.” We went into the kitchen, and I took a seat while Mallory pulled a tube from a drawer next to the sink.

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