Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,75
out of my hand as I flinched to my left, away from the threat. I felt the air over my head shift as a huge hand crashed into the side of the house, right where my right ear had been a moment earlier. When it pulled back there was a fist-sized dent in the metal siding.
I came up with my fists held in front of my face like a boxer, dancing back to get a glimpse of my attacker. And for the second time in fifteen seconds, I froze from shock. Because of the size of him. His eyes were at least two feet above mine, which had to make him well over seven feet tall. He wore an enormous, buttoned black raincoat that must have been made for him, because it went down to his midcalves. His body still strained against the fabric, but not because of that carved, gym-rat look. No, his bulk was hard and dense, concrete poured into a man-shaped mold.
My eyes finally made it all the way up to his face, and with another shock I realized that his skin was . . . blue. I blinked hard to make sure the overcast daylight wasn’t creating an optical illusion. But no, it was definitely a washed-out, frostbite blue. His features were cruel, commanding, and so remote it chilled me. I had thought that Quinn’s expressions were impassive. This guy looked like he came from another planet.
No, that wasn’t right. He should have looked silly, too big and too alien to fit in against the background of the world around him. It should have been absurd. But there was such an intense quality of menace coming off him that I could nearly taste it on the air. It turned my insides to snow.
“What the fuck are you?” I blurted.
A thin smile appeared on his thin lips. “Careful, daughter. Do not ask questions unless you are certain you want the answers.” His voice was low and hollow sounding, the way a big dog’s bark sounds from its barrel chest. Despite his earlier attempt to clobber me, he stood there unmoving, his hands drooping down by his sides.
“I’m not your daughter,” I said automatically.
“Semantics. Your mother’s egg was fertilized with my seed. You are my biological material.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact that I didn’t have it in me to doubt him. In that moment, somewhere in the back of my mind, something delicate and vital began to break down. I pushed it away. “Did you hurt my animals?”
Genuine confusion appeared on his broad face. I pointed toward the door. “My dogs. Did you . . .” I swallowed hard, unable to stomach the word on my lips. “Hurt them?”
Distaste twisted his features. “I see. No. I have not entered your abode.”
Then why weren’t the dogs barking? “What do you want?” I blurted.
The smile that twisted his lips was greedy, a child set loose in the candy aisle at the grocery store. “I want you, Allison Alexandra Luther. Revenge on an old foe is an attractive boon, but she hides like a cockroach from the light, and I grow tired of her games.” He spread his hands wide, and I almost bolted at the small movement. “You are mine, and you have value to me.”
He said it like I should be honored.
“No. This is . . . no,” I sputtered. I began backing away slowly, because that’s what you do with really super crazy people. The creature advanced at the same pace. I retreated to the wide area I’d left between my car and the garage door, but it wasn’t far enough. I eyed the car door. Could I move fast enough to get in and get the car started before he stopped me?
He saw me looking and smiled indulgently. With an amused shake of his head, he leaned down and picked up the front bumper of my old Subaru with one hand, lifting it to his waist. His movements were graceful, easy, and so human . . . and so was his cruel little smile as he let go of the bumper, letting the car crash down. Both front tires gave out with a nervous pop.
I began to choke on the air I was breathing. I backed up a little farther, shaking my head in denial. I was going into some kind of shock. This couldn’t be my father. This made no sense. Nothing made sense. “This can’t be happening,” I whispered.