When Wolves Howl (Bedlam in Bethlehem Book 2) by Nicole Zoltack

Author:Nicole Zoltack [Zoltack, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

The last time around, when I tried to lure out the vamps, I went the whole goodbye routine. Diego saw through me, so I can’t dare risk doing I again… at least not beforehand. Once Dean leaves to pick up some lunch for us, I quickly write a note for Travis, Samantha, Diego, and a few others. If I don’t make it back, the letters will be found. Hopefully, they won’t be needed, but I’m not willing to risk never saying my farewells.

By the time Dean returns, I have to wipe a few tears away. I’m not ready to die yet. Not really. But I am willing to put my life on the line for everyone. That’s just who I am.

Maybe I need to recognize who I am, too.

“Clarissa?” he calls from the living room.

“Be right there,” I answer. Do I look like I’ve been crying? It’s not like I’ve been bawling. Just a few tears. Nothing major.

A few deep breaths do nothing to settle my nerves. I’m so uptight and anxious. Seriously. It’s like fright has taken up residence within me, making me second guess every move I make.

It’s not until tonight. You can forget about it for now. Just live in the moment.

“Clarissa?” Dean sounds like he’s just outside my door.

I hinged it shut, and he makes no move to open it, opting to give me privacy. While I appreciate it, I also want him to stop tiptoeing around me. We’re so timid yet. Just finding our middle ground. Who knows if our relationship will ever get to that easy, comfortable point where one will just know what the other needs. Without having to say a word or ask a question first. Truly knowing and understand and accepting the other.

Maybe, maybe not. It depends on tonight, but even if I somehow survive, it doesn’t mean our relationship will thrive. Dean’s hiding something else from me, I think. I have a sense about those kinds of things. There’s something else bothering him, more than just his sister.

“Come in,” I say. My fingers brush against the frame of a picture of my parents and me on my nightstand. We’re so happy in it. It takes my breath away. We went to Musikfest not that long before they were murdered, and we had been so happy. Dad forced us to go with him to see a country act. Mom doesn’t mind country, she can take it or leave it, but I hate country music. Give me rock and roll. Give me the classics. Heck, give me jazz or R&B. Anything but country. And anything but rap.

He begged me to come with, so I did. Now, I’m so glad I did, even though I hated the music for those two hours.

Dean touches my shoulder. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.” Adoptive, but I don’t bother to mention it. It’s nothing something I broadcast, and it doesn’t matter to me. They’re my parents, pure and simple.

“You have your mom’s…” He stares at the picture.

I pat his hand.

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