Abandon The Night by Ware Joss

Author:Ware, Joss [Ware, Joss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Romance, Paranormal, Horror, Dystopia, Zombie, Apocalyptic
ISBN: 9780061734038
Google: Y1AQyBuLMQgC
Amazon: 0061734039
Barnesnoble: 0061734039
Goodreads: 6614277
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2010-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Fang bared his teeth, showing off a broken eyetooth that nevertheless looked wicked enough to do a good bit of damage.

Quent looked at him and said firmly, “Fang, chill,” and walked through the courtyard, toward the entrance to Zoë’s hideaway. Despite his cool actions, the hair at the back of his neck prickled as he strode confidently past the annoyed wolfhound, who sat right inside the doorway.

But other than a low, warning growl, the creature remained still and Quent considered himself successful when he got into the little flat unscathed.

He looked around, but his first instinct was right: Zoë wasn’t there.

Marley had followed him, of course, and when she came in behind, Quent stepped aside and gestured. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to see if I can find Zoë. I may be gone awhile.”

Ignoring Marley’s amused grin, he walked across the room toward the hanging beads. A low glow came from beyond, and he gathered up the clinking strings and walked through. He found himself in a short little passageway, and then came upon a pair of swinging doors like one might find in a restaurant. The glow was stronger, and he felt a wave of heat emanating from beyond.

When he pushed through the metal doors, which were warm to the touch, Quent was blasted by a wall of heat. Immediately, he felt the weight of the heat in his nose and lungs, and the sweat springing along his lower spine.

Kitchen and forge, indeed. The only light came from the red-orange glow of coals spilling from inside an arched brick opening in the center of the room. Heat waves radiated from the oven that had originally baked bread or pizza, shoved in on long wooden paddles. Zoë stood to the side, and as he watched, she used a long pincerlike tool to fish a slender metal rod from deep in the fire pit.

The tip of the rod glowed yellow-white, and she applied a different tool to pinch and flatten the molten metal. Without acknowledging his presence, Zoë rested the metal rod safely on one of the small industrial kitchen’s steel countertops, lining it up with several others. Then she turned back to the forge and reached her tool in for something else.

Her bare arms bulged and gleamed with sweat, and she’d donned a white tank top that appeared to have been trimmed to just below her breasts. Its frayed hem curled up in the back, exposing the long flare of her waist, and a hint of the dimples just above her arse rising from low drawstring trousers. A heavy apron covered the front of her body, strings crisscrossing into a low tie at the back. Zoë’s messy dark hair shone, winging about in every direction except where it was flattened by the ski goggles she wore for eye protection. Gloves covered her hands, but the rest of her mahogany skin glistened and her lean muscles shifted and slid as she used two clamping tools on what looked like the tine-end of a fork.

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