Wicked Kiss (Nightwatchers) - By Michelle Rowen Page 0,40

me again.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Too many maybes.

Tomorrow was Monday. I had school bright and early. I hadn’t given up hope so much that I planned to start cutting classes. Going to school represented my continuing hold on my future—and that I had a future to hold on to. Despite any drama I faced outside of McCarthy High, I’d keep up my grades so I could go to my first choice college next year. One day, my life would be far outside of the Trinity city limits.

It would happen.

I sat at my vanity table and brushed all the tangles out of my long, wild mane of hair. I planned to get it cut to a more manageable length so I wouldn’t always have to pull it back into a ponytail, but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

I stared at my reflection for a long time, trying to see some sign of the supernatural in my eyes. I knew it had to be there, since I had enough of it swirling around inside of me, but they looked the same as always. Brown. And currently filled with anxiety.

The room was stifling. I’d cranked the heat when I got home and despite my constant chills, I desperately needed some fresh air. I went to the window and pushed it open, inhaling deeply. It made me shiver, but the cold October air helped clear some of the fog from my head.

Then I turned to my bed and grabbed the sheets—but I froze in midpull.

After staying at a low level ever since getting back home from the mall, my hunger suddenly surged to the forefront. My breath caught and held as I sensed his presence.

“You shouldn’t leave your window open,” Bishop said. “Anyone might be able to get in.”

I spun to face him, my eyes wide with shock at what I was seeing. But there he stood, framed by moonlight near the open window.

A gorgeous, blue-eyed, six-foot tall angel of death was standing in my bedroom.

I grappled for something to say, anything at all. My pulse raced. “How did you...” I gestured at the window behind him, my gauzy curtains fluttering with the cool breeze. “This is the second floor and there’s no ladder or tree out there.”

My flustered reaction made him smile, an expression that shot right to my heart. “I have a few hidden talents.”

His gaze lowered to my clothes—or, rather, lack of them. My cheeks started to burn. I certainly wasn’t naked, but a snug tank top and a loose pair of sleeping shorts weren’t exactly modest.

I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest. It wasn’t like I had that much to cover. “Why are you here?”

It sounded much ruder than I meant it. Seeing him gave me a wild inner thrill that I tried to cover, especially after my conversation—or warning—with Cassandra earlier. Seeing Bishop alone like this was dangerous. It triggered my hunger like nothing else in the world.

He shouldn’t be here and he knew it, too.

But here he was anyway.

Bishop wrenched his gaze back up to my face. It took him a moment to say something, and the weighted silence stretched between us. “I wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re all right.”

I sent a quick glance over my shoulder at my closed bedroom door. “Be quiet or Cassandra will hear us.”

He didn’t come any closer to me. He stayed by the window, which helped me keep most of my head together. “She knows what happened...between us. Did she tell you?”

I nodded. “But I already knew.”

His gaze met mine directly as he studied me, frowning. Then clarity crossed his expression. “You know, I’m really not thrilled with this handy eavesdropping skill of yours.”

I bit my bottom lip. I was so cold that goose bumps had broken out over my bare skin. I crossed them, shivering. “I can’t control it. It just happens.”

He turned to the window and closed it. “What did you hear?”

A thousand different emotions bubbled inside me and I wanted to force them down and keep my game face on. Pretend that nothing affected me. Too bad everything affected me lately. My analytical and detached view of the world around me had dropped away, leaving me completely raw and vulnerable.

Bishop affected me. Sometimes I forgot how much, when he wasn’t this close to me, but he did. His scent, his presence, his warmth—everything called to me across the six tiny feet separating us right now. I wanted to close that distance, throw my