Fever Series 2 by Bloodfever

Author:Bloodfever
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-03-29T02:48:20+00:00

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One afternoon,” I insisted. “I spent maybe six hours there, Barrons!” I’d lost a month of my life, on a beach in the sun with Alina. It was inc omprehensible. Had I aged a month or stayed the same? What if I’d chosen t o hang out with Alina for a week? Would I have lost a year? Ten? What had changed since I’d been gone? I glanced out the window. One thing hadn’t—it was still raining.

“In Faery, you fool,” he snarled. “You know time doesn’t move the same th ere! We talked about that!”

“V’lane promised it would be only an hour of my time. He tricked me,” I sa id hotly.

“‘V’lane promised. He tricked me,’” he mocked in falsetto. “What did you expect? He’s a bloody Fae, Ms. Lane, and one of the—what do you call them—

death-by-sex ones. He seduced you and you fell for it. What else did you f all for? Why did you agree to give him an hour in Faery in the first place

?”

“I didn’t agree to give him an hour in Faery! I agreed to spend an hour wit h him at a time of his choosing. He didn’t say anything about where it would be spent.”

“Why did you agree to spend an hour with him at all?”

“Because he helped me clear the Shades from the bookstore!”

“ Iwould have helped you clear the Shades!”

“ Youweren’t there!” We were shouting at each other.

“Deals with the devil, Ms. Lane, never go well. That’s a given. You will n ot make one again. Do you understand me? If I have to chain you to a fuckin g wall to protect you from your own stupidity, I will!” He glared at me.

I rattled my chains. “Wrists. Beam. Chained already, Barrons. Come up with a new threat.” I glared back.

He tried to stare me down, make me quail and look away. I didn’t. Not even with my arms chained behind me, wearing only a string bikini. I was losing the ability to quail and I would never again be the kind of girl that look ed away.

“Who trashed the bookstore, Barrons?” I demanded. I had a lot of questions and so far I’d not gotten the chance to ask a single one. The moment he’d seen me, he’d charged me, roughly bundled me over his shoulder, hauled me t o the garage, stripped off my tool belt, and chained me to a support beam.

I hadn’t even tried to fight him off; there was more steel inside Barrons t han the post behind me.

A muscle in his jaw worked. He turned away, walked to a small metal workt able on wheels, and rolled it over next to me. Then he retrieved a long, f lat wooden box from one of the many tool shelves.

“What are you doing?” I said warily. He removed items from the box and be gan placing them on the table next to me. First came two tiny bottles that contained liquids: one crimson, one black.

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