Deathless (The Vein Chronicles Book 2) by Anne Malcom

Author:Anne Malcom [Malcom, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-25T05:00:00+00:00

“A prophecy?” Alexus repeated, leaning back in his seat with a blank look on his face, much like some businessman would when he was presented with some form of information he knew he was far too smart to believe. “You come here, risk everything we’ve built, everything we are, as well as breaking everything we stand for by sleeping with this creature instead of killing it, and you tell me that it’s all dreamed up by the gods and communicated by a witch?” he surmised.

My hand flinched on Thorne’s thigh. His covered mine.

“It’s also written down in a very old book,” I offered through clenched teeth. “And old books are like the Internet. If it’s written, then it must be true.”

“You’ve known me for centuries, Alexus. We might have our disagreements, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know what kind of man I am. What I would do for our society. That I would never risk it if I wasn’t sure. There’s a war coming. You’ve seen the hybrids. You lost three men to them yesterday alone.”

“And we exterminated the vile abominations,” he protested defensively.

“And how many were there? Two?” Duncan cut in. “You couldn’t shoot more than that in a bucket. You sure as hell couldn’t win a war against them. Though I’d be happy to see you try, since slayers on this earth are nothing but an annoyance, like lasses who won’t bed ye until you marry them. I’ll do it, marry the lasses or save the fuckin’ slayers, because the end result is the same: I get fucked. Only one in the good way. But I’m getting paid for this, so all is not lost.”

His eyes moved to the one woman in the room who wasn’t me. He’d obviously clocked her the moment he walked in, because she had boobs and a vagina and was not hard to look at.

Yes, she was wearing the unflattering female version of the male outfit, but even the shapeless garb hinted at her slim figure and gentle curves. And her dirty blonde hair was slicked back into a tight bun, harshly showing her makeup-less face. Yet she had a soft sprinkling of freckles and sun-kissed skin to counteract the whole GI Jane look she had going, making her look slightly younger and softer.

But her violet-blue eyes that didn’t belong to the childish and pretty face told me that she wasn’t soft. That the world had done to her what it did to a lot of humans—fucked them over. And there were two options when the world did that. People might argue that point, but people were idiots.

You either gave up, let the world continue to fuck you while you coped with alcohol, drugs or just by letting the monotony of life become something that you accepted and didn’t change until you died from an overdose or suicide or just a fucking boring heart.

Or you got even.

By doing something with your life to prove to the universe that it couldn’t get you down.

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