The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series) by Tricia Wentworth

Author:Tricia Wentworth [Wentworth, Tricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-14T05:00:00+00:00

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I’m woke up in the middle of the night and immediately can tell from the smell and the dangerous tension in the room that Lyncoln is back. It’s weird I know who is here based on their smells. They are different but equally enticing. One is more outdoorsy and one is fresher and almost minty.

“Regs. Regs, you need to wake up for a minute.” He nicely tries to wake me up by squeezing my hand and tracing his fingers on my palm.

“Mmmm,” I roll my head and try to flip over to my side to get comfortable. Hopefully, that is as awake as he needs me to be. I’m getting really sick of this waking up every few hours business.

“Regs, you need to say something other than grunts and groans so I know you’re okay,” he says and although it’s dark, I’m certain he’s at least half-smiling.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special,” I groan as I sit up and glare in his direction.

“Mission accomplished. Thank you.” He keeps my hand in his and sits down in the chair he and Henry have set up beside my bed. Their whole taking shifts thing is freaking me out and making me feel despicable. I hope the rest of the candidates don’t know they are here doing this. It would make me some enemies I’m sure. Marisol would have a heyday.

“Don’t you have something more important to be doing, macho man?” I ask, sounding annoyed.

“Macho man, huh?” He seems amused.

“What’s your military rank, anyway?” I ask, feeling more awake now. He bosses most people around, even men older than he, so I’m assuming it must be high.

“Does it matter?” he deflects. Knowing him, the little that I do know him, I understand that he doesn’t like to brag about himself. He doesn’t need to; he just has that air of importance about him.

“Yes. You said I should get to know you. This is me getting to know you.” I’m rather impressed with how strong willed I sound coming out of a deep sleep. It helps that it’s dark and I can barely see him.

“Lieutenant Commander.” I can almost see him shrug.

“Wow.” I pause. “You’re only 21. Sarge is a Sergeant, and you’re a Lieutenant Commander? Impressive.”

“Well let’s just say I have a certain skill set that makes me valuable.”

Like his broad shoulders and dangerous eyes? Or the way he is a natural predator?

“Sarge would be higher than a Sergeant too, but he has a family and chose to stop climbing the ranks a while ago,” he explains.

I don’t even hesitate to ask, “What is your valuable skill set?”

“Tactical Special Forces.” He uses the politically correct term, the same one that is in the packet of information we receive on the candidates. So really, he isn’t telling me much.

“Which means?”

“Which means I’m good in combat. Some would say ruthless. I started out as a sniper, but am more useful in hand-to-hand combat. I’m too aggressive to be a sniper. I want to be up front instead of sitting in wait.

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