How’s class going?”
Mr. Preppy rolled his eyes, fingers still buried in Bentley’s fur. “Crazy. And the headaches aren’t helping.”
*Bingo.*
This was her third college campus, and she finally got a nibble. Careful to stay casual, she forced herself not to fiddle with Bentley’s collar. “You probably need more sleep.”
He shook his head. “That’s just it. I’ve been sleeping constantly. I think I’m just burnt out.”
*No, you’re being poisoned.*
Welcome back! Chapter Three: Chelsea and Bentley starts today!
Bald, pale, red-eyed, and razor
teethed, the vampire blurred out of focus as it ran across the dimly lit
parking lot.
Chelsea pushed the gas pedal of her car all the way to the floor, aiming for where the reaver would be. She hit the vampire in the back, sending it flying into the brick wall of the condemned apartment building.
Chelsea and the rest of the hunters try to save Alex and Tiggy from the nightlings. The hunt is on!
A light rain pattered on the gravel of the parking lot, but the whistling wind promised a storm. Chelsea leaned back in the seat of her car, studying the boarded windows of Boney’s haunt.
She’d been inside a handful of times before she’d decided not to hunt monsters. Dark, dirty, and usually full of surly hunters, it was the natural place to meet and discuss the reaver hunt.
. “How long do you think you’ll be in town?”
Amber shrugged. “Boney’s place comes with a reaver hunt attached. So at least until that’s done. Two, maybe three days, and then a week at the apartment.”
“Reavers?” Chelsea winced even as she said it. She’d sworn off monster hunting.
Amber, bless her, didn’t even flash a knowing look as she answered. “A type of vampire. Like the exact opposite of a nightling: animalistic, solitary, and ugly as sin.”
Chelsea’s hair whipped in the hot storm winds as she stomped across the empty quad. The dark clouds and thunder matched her mood perfectly. She flew through the doors of the tiny student-run coffee shop as heat lightning raced overhead
Mama gave her rolling laugh. “You’re barely old enough to drink. Give yourself some time, and some slack. Now, do you have a young man?”
“Mama…”
“Or a young lady. I’m not making assumptions.”
Chelsea pouted in her seat. “This is not nearly as fun as TV makes it seem.”
Jack laughed. “Poor thing. Give me your hands.” Not waiting at all, he grabbed her stiff hands and stripped off her gloves. Chelsea’s shivers had little to do with the cold as he huffed hot breath over her frozen fingers.
The bright sunlight streaming through her window contradicted her icy feet. Chelsea tugged on her blanket, but it stuck on something.
That something turned out to be a naked, muscle-y bit of man with dark hair and sharp cheek bones.
Words That Burn Like Fire 