Silver Blood (Series of Blood Book 1) by Emma Hamm (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📕

didn’t have any reason to think that he would hurt her. She didn’t have any reason to think about him at all. Yet those green eyes were fascinating when they were frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Burke. Really I am.”

He shrugged. “I have time to convince you. But not as long as you might want.”

He headed towards her window and slung a leg over the sill. He hesitated for only a moment before turning to look back at her. She was hung over the edge of her white tub, watching him with storm gray eyes and long, wet limbs.

It was a hard sight to leave.

“You don’t have a lot of time to change your mind, Wren. And I need you to change your mind.”

Wren finally relaxed when he disappeared out her window. The man had a way of making himself seem larger than he was. Burke’s broad shoulders and height were enough to fill a room. He took up so much space with that intense stare and power.

She was going to continue telling him no. It wasn’t easy to keep doing, because she really did want to help him. But Burke wanted to pull her out of her life and put her in danger. Why would she ever agree to something like that?

E didn’t trust him, and that was enough to make Wren nervous. Not once had the entity inside of her done anything that had endangered either of them. E had always liked her, and she had always liked having it with her. Losing each other would be unbearable.

Wren sighed as she stood up from the tub. The towel was held in her hand limply as gooseflesh spread across her skin. Her life had gone from predictable to unpredictable, and she didn’t like that in the slightest.

A slight knocking sound at the window had her eyes darting towards the opening and to the figure that stood watching her. She shrieked and desperately attempted to cover herself with the blood stained towel. The shadowed form darkened her window for a moment longer before she saw a flash of teeth.

“Sorry, just a reminder that I’ll still be in your shop tomorrow.”

“Out, Burke!”

She tossed the vial of Comfort at him as he disappeared. It shattered against her windowsill in a splash of glittering gray. Satisfied in that at least, she stomped to the window and shut it firmly. For good measure, she turned the lock and yanked the curtain down as well.

She couldn’t help but smile after that. Burke had always seemed less of a man and more of a shadow to her. He lingered at the edges of her vision, but whenever she turned to look at him, he became less solid.

Now she was certain that he was just a man.

Wren opened the towel and glanced down at her thin body.

“Well, it’s not nothing.”

“It’s fine.”

“E!” She turned her head back to stare up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Not you too.”

T  he note that was slipped under her door was an invitation to a party she did not wish to go to. Wren didn’t like the mass of human bodies pressed against hers. There were too many people, too many noises, and far too much cement around her.

Pitch was the only person that would try and do something like this. He invited everyone that he could and then some. The types of people he invited were from all manner of life. Delicate high born ladies with dresses made of butterflies and men with metal decorations that followed them around. These people would mingle with Wren’s kind. She came from the kind of people who wore clothing made of wool and whose eyes were darkened with hatred of the world.

Or at least that was the romantic way to see it. Really, Pitch just invited everyone that he could, because they would be more likely to buy at least something. A club was a rather safe place to indulge in all manner of foolishness.

Wren avoided them like the plague.

This time, the note that was slid under her door didn’t give her any options. The invitation was just as vibrant as always with a professional black base and silver letters that seemed to glow. The handwritten part underneath the generic note was what caught her eye.

No excuses. Box outside.

Pitch had signed his name under the warning with a flourish. Of course he wasn’t going to let her have a quiet night in. He never had liked how much of a homebody she was.

Outside her door was a box in similar colors. The black base seemed to suck the light into it, and the grey ribbons fluttered in the slight breeze. She scooped it off of the step and wondered if Pitch realized that someone could have stolen it.

She could use that as an excuse. Wren could tell him that she never got any of his notes or that she had waited for the referenced box, but it never showed up. Except he’d probably know that she was lying. He knew how to sniff out lies like a bloodhound on a manhunt.

Sighing, Wren tucked the letter into the back of her jeans and flipped her store sign off. Someone had fixed the letters so that they all worked, probably Burke with his endless amount of money trying to sway her to take the job he offered.

He said he didn’t have much time for her to change her mind, yet he was still here. She avoided speaking to him. He avoided listening to her. It worked out well for the two of them. It wasn’t working out for what he needed her to do.

Wren could tell that he was pushing her. Burke made himself more available. He asked the question more often, he put himself in the way of her and her customers. He was trying to wear her down, and it wasn’t going to work.

On second thought, this party might be a good idea. Burke wouldn’t be able to get in, because he didn’t have an invitation. Wren