Few Are Angels 1 by Inger Iversen

Author:Inger Iversen [Iversen, Inger]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Coming of Age, Romance, New Adult & College, Paranormal, Vampires, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban
Amazon: B0086Z2KT0
Publisher: Inger Iversen Books, LLC
Published: 2014-01-19T05:00:00+00:00

We were on the second of three floors. The place was small and cozy, so it’d be difficult not to run into him if he were in the hallway or lobby area. Outside my door, the hallway was empty and quiet. I could hear the TV in the room across the hall, and I used that as cover. I closed the door as quietly as possible and inched toward the stairs. The hallway was filled with dinner scents from the small kitchen, and my stomach argued in protest as I abandoned the wild mushrooms and chicken sautéed in a garlic sauce that would have soon filled it. On the stairs, I passed an older couple who were far too busy kissing to notice my presence and peeked into the lobby. They partially blocked me from view, but if anyone were to come in through the front doors, they’d see me hiding behind Mr. and Mrs. Kissy face, so I had to be quick. I didn't see Alex or anyone else I’d arrived with, but it was dinner time, and I knew they would be downstairs either in front of the fire or in the small dining area near the kitchen. The setup of the Lodge made it possible to sneak out without being seen. I’d been standing in the same spot for a few minutes when the blond-haired man who couldn't seem to kiss his redheaded partner enough looked at me through wrinkled brows. I took that as my cue to leave, and I dashed down the remaining stairs and flew out the door. I probably looked like a psycho to the couple, but I didn't care. If they were going to be so rude as to suck face in public, then I wasn’t going be polite and sweet around them either. My annoyance subsided as the yellow and white cab pulled up to the curb. Once inside, the driver smiled into the rearview mirror and took off into the night. Only then did I worry about my decision to meet Kale.

I had left the lodge telling no one where I was going, or who I was going to meet. Though I’d been to the lodge before, I’d never left at night by myself. I had no idea where Stony Brook Drive was, or where the little cabin Kale had described was. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

The driver was quiet and so was I. I had nothing to talk about. He must not have either, because all the times I had called a cab in Virginia Beach, the cabbies were more than talkative. The drive lasted ten minutes. The driver finally spoke, his voice gruff from smoking or age, I couldn't tell.

“You want to be dropped off by the front door or at the mailbox, miss?”

I looked out of the window and could see we’d come to a long driveway with a mailbox that read 5435 Decanis. I wondered if this was Kale’s home and if his last name was Decanis, but I was pulled from the thought by the driver.

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