By Colleen Foley
I dropped my head, listening to the birds chirp through the grey/red haze ripping my mind. It hurt.
knew why Seth needed my blood. It made perfect sense. But damn if I
wasn’t feeling threatened, angry, and mean into the bargain. This isn’t me.
right. He was my brother. ‘Nuff said.
Madam Nightingale, we’d better hurry and jab me. This thing ramps up
aggression, I think, and since I’m already a son-of-a-bitch…”
Seth hit the gas hard enough to spew gravel.
He said nothing for a while and then, softly, “It’s making your jokes suck, too.”