Authors: Kristen Callihan
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy
He
r
a
ng
e
r
wa
s
a
hot
thing
th
a
t
gr
ew
w
ithin
h
e
r
ch
e
st
.
Ma
rtin
h
a
d
l
e
ft
h
e
r
without
a
look
b
a
ck
.
R
ott
e
n
,
f
e
ckl
e
ss
b
a
st
a
rd
.
He
’d
l
e
ft
h
e
r
a
ll
a
lon
e.
He
r
lip
tr
em
bl
e
d
a
nd
sh
e
bit
it
h
a
rd
.
Dam
n
it
a
ll
,
sh
e
didn’t
w
a
nt
to
cry
.
T
h
e
littl
e
r
a
t
Billy
wa
s
right
,
crying
wa
s
for
childr
e
n
a
nd
wea
k
-m
ind
e
d
individu
a
ls
.
“
But
you
didn’t
l
ea
v
e
me,
e
h?
”
Billy’s
voic
e
wa
s
un
e
xp
e
ct
e
dly
soft
.
“
T
h
a
t’s
gott
a
count
for
so
me
thin’
.
Ha
sn’t
it?”
H
is
thin
bro
w
s
dr
ew
tog
e
th
e
r
.
“
N
ot
ma
ny
th
a
t
wou
l
d
s
a
v
e
a
hid
e
as
fl
ea—
bitt
e
n
as
m
in
e.
”
“
I
shou
l
d
burn
you
in
th
e
bed
now
,
”
sh
e
m
utt
e
r
e
d
without
h
ea
t
.
Billy
l
a
ugh
e
d
l
ow
.
“
Ay
e,
I
r
e
ckon
you
should
.
Look
it
,
”
h
e
b
e
g
a
n
,
his
long
f
a
c
e
going
a
nic
e
sh
a
d
e
of
r
e
d
,
“
I
wa
s
a
shit
,
right
.
T
o
co
me
at
you
lik
e
th
a
t
.
”
S
h
e
look
e
d
at
hi
m
a
sk
a
nc
e.
“
Ye
s
,
you
w
e
r
e.
”
He
sank
f
u
rt
he
r
i
n
t
o
t
he
p
ill
ows.
“
A
ll
ri
gh
t
,
a
huge
sh
it
.
I
’
m…
f
uck.
I
’
m
so
rr
y,
eh?
”
M
ir
anda
s
i
ghed.
“
I
am,
t
oo.
For
a
ll
of
it
.
”
He
r
body
f
e
lt
t
oo
heavy
t
o
ho
l
d
up.
“
I
’ll
go
get
some
l
audanum.
”
S
h
e
didn’t
look
at
hi
m
as
sh
e
ma
d
e
h
e
r
wa
y
to
th
e
door
.
S
h
e
’d
cry
in
th
e
priv
a
cy
of
a
noth
e
r
roo
m
a
nd
curs
e
hi
m
for
ma
king
h
e
r
f
ee
l
pitiful
.
“
M
ir
anda.
”
S
h
e
stopp
e
d
,
th
e
un
e
xp
e
ct
e
d
us
e
of
h
e
r
n
ame
shocking
h
e
r
.
B
ill
y
’
s
exp
r
ess
i
on
was
ha
r
d
and
un
f
o
r
g
i
v
i
ng
as
he
he
l
d
he
r
gaze.
He
r
e
was
t
he
f
ace
of
t
he
c
ri
m
i
na
l
,
t
he
man
who
’
d
made
he
r
b
l
ood
r
un
co
l
d,
t
hen
ri
gh
t
eous
ho
t
i
n
t
he
a
ll
ey.
“
We
’r
e
a
ll
mons
t
e
r
s,
l
uv
.
Each
and
eve
r
y
one
of
us.
So
happens
some
of
us
have
p
r
e
tti
e
r
f
aces
t
o
h
i
de
beh
i
nd
i
s
a
ll
.
”
O
n
a
t
r
a
i
n
,
s
o
m
e
w
h
e
r
e
i
n
M
a
r
y
l
a
nd
,
U
n
i
t
e
d
S
t
a
t
e
s
o
f
Am
e
r
i
c
a,
April
1881
Bon
e
wea
ry
a
nd
f
ee
ling
oddly
fr
e
tfu
l
,
Arch
e
r
slowly
ma
d
e
h
i
s
w
ay
by
t
r
a
i
n
ba
c
k
t
o
N
ew
Y
o
r
k
C
i
t
y
.
H
e
h
ad
b
u
s
i
n
e
s
s
th
e
r
e
th
a
t
n
ee
d
e
d
a
tt
e
nding
.
And
a
ft
e
r
th
a
t?
W
ould
h
e
go
to
London?
O
r
st
a
y
a
w
a
y?
He
could
not
decide.
H
is
world
f
e
lt
off
,
as
though
its
a
xis
h
a
d
been
tilt
e
d
in
th
e
oth
e
r
dir
e
ction
.
T
h
e
r
e
w
e
r
e
no
m
or
e
dr
eam
s
of
M
ir
a
nd
a.
N
o
ma
tt
e
r
how
h
a
rd
h
e
tri
e
d
,
sh
e
wou
l
d
not
co
me
to
hi
m.