Midnight Bewitched (Mated by Midnight Book 1) by Jessica Wayne & Heather Hildenbrand

Author:Jessica Wayne & Heather Hildenbrand [Wayne, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B.A.D. Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I sleep like shit that night, my nightmares full of chandeliers that morph into wild beasts and lunge at me with snapping teeth. The temptation to pop an Ambien is strong, but I refuse to lower my defenses and leave myself vulnerable. Not a soul in this town is my friend. Except for Sutton. And the more time I spend with him, the more my ovaries are not interested in friendship. Unless you count friends with benefits. All the benefits.

Sure, there’s Phineas, but I get the impression even he is hiding something from me. Outside my window, the sun peeks over the horizon in streaks of pink. It’s beautiful after all the rain and clouds yesterday, and I stare at it sleepily until my eyelids begin to droop. I’m just about to nod off again when I hear the sound of something chafing against my floor.

I sit up quickly—just in time to see a manilla envelope slide into view beneath my bedroom door. Then footsteps sound from the hall, and I toss the covers aside and leap across the space. By the time I fling open the door, the hallway is empty.

Son of a bitch.

I close the door again and lock it.

Then I bend down and pick up the envelope. It’s blank but identical to the one I received back in the city when this all began. Sliding the flap open, I reach in and pull out the single slip of paper inside.

I stare down at the news article, scanning the text. It’s been cut, though, so I don’t get the full story. And then my eyes land on—and register—the photo. It’s grainy. Black and white, but also clearly taken with a camera not from this decade. Or maybe even this century.

Still, there’s no mistaking the man in the picture.

Sutton. Or his grandfather, I guess.

But then my eyes land on the caption below it.

A date: June 7, 1912.

And a name: Sutton Hargrave.

No fucking way.

His words echo in my mind. Grandfather. Well, unless his grandfather and he were twins, I’m starting to think that story is bullshit. Determined to cut through the bullshit once and for all, I grab my phone. It takes three tries for the call to go through, thanks to shitty reception, but finally, it rings, and Allison answers.

“Hey,” she says, sounding relieved and a hundred other things.

“Hey.” Guilt pricks at me for not calling sooner.

“How’s it going? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, what about for you?”

She hesitates, and I realize there’s something she’s holding back. My stomach knots.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she admits.

“Just say it.”

She sighs. “Quincy’s been conducting interviews.”

“Interviews?”

“For a job opening.”

My jaw drops, and dread turns to shock and then white-hot anger.

“That asshole,” I say.

“I’m sorry, Ser. You don’t deserve this.”

“Hell no, I don’t. The bastard said he’d hold my job. What a crock of lies.”

“I know. I wish I could do something to fix this.”

“No,” I tell her. “You’ve been awesome,” I say, and I mean it, too. “If anything, he should give my column to you.

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