“Where in the hell have you been?” he growled.
“In bed, sleeping?” I replied, rolling my eyes. I looked at my alarm clock and it was only nine-thirty in the morning. “I guess I slept in a little.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” he said. “Your mother and I have been worried sick about you. Jesus, we almost took a trip back out there to make sure you were okay. But we promised to give you your space and… oh, hell, maybe this apartment was a mistake.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Have you checked your phone lately?”
“No, I just woke up. I had a late night.”
“I guess. Look, we’ve left you several messages the last couple of days and heard nothing from you. Your poor mother has been on the brink of a nervous breakdown not hearing back from you.”
“Last couple of days?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah, it’s Saturday.”
I paused. Did he just really say Saturday?
“Emily.”
“Uh, yeah”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You aren’t doing drugs now, are you?”
“No!” I protested.
“Your mother wants to talk to you.”
She got on the phone. “What’s going on, Emily?”
“Uh, nothing. I’m fine,” I lied.
“Do you want us to come and get you?”
“No,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Mom, I’m fine. Look, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll call you guys back in an hour or so.”
“Okay, honey. Are you sure you’re okay?”
No.
Was it really Saturday?
Am I still dreaming?
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Okay. Call us back as soon as you can, dear.”
“I will.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, mom.”
We hung up and I looked at my phone. Sure enough, it showed Saturday and several missed calls.
Dazed, I shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the light.
“What the hell?” I whispered, staring at my pale face.
Scratch that, it wasn’t just pale, it was ghostly white.
I leaned closer and studied my emerald eyes, which seemed unusually bright.
“Okay, I’m still dreaming,” I said out loud.
I touched my cheek and it was cool.
“Okay, wake up,” I said, pinching my cheeks, hard. “Come on.”
I winced. Okay, I’m not sleeping.
Was I sick? That made sense. It would explain a lot and I had to admit, my throat was a little scratchy.
I opened my mouth to check my tongue and screamed out loud.
Fangs!?
“Oh, my God,” I gasped, touching them. The tips were sharp. Sharp enough to sink into someone’s throat. To drink their blood.
My stomach growled hungrily.
Horrified, I slid down to my knees and began to cry.
The End
Blur
(Night Roamers)
Book One
By Kristen Middleton
Copyedited by:
Carolyn M. Pinard
www.thesupernaturalbookeditor.com
Cover Design – A collaboration by
Mae I Design and Emma Michaels
www.maeidesign.com
www.Emma Michaels.com
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright ©2012 by Kristen Middleton
All rights reserved.
Warning – This book has adult situations and is intended for mature readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author.
Prologue
“Mom left the door unlocked,” I hollered at my twin brother as he slammed the door to his ’67 Mustang. It was the last day of eleventh grade, and we’d stopped off for burgers and malts at Grannie’s Diner with some friends to celebrate after school. Nathan and I were officially seniors and neither of us could wipe the grins from our faces.
“That’s weird,” he said, brushing a hand through his sandy-brown hair. “You know how she’s always nagging us about doing it.”
I grinned and held the door open for him. “I’m certainly not going to let her live this one down.”
Mom was married to a cop once, my father, and he’d drilled into her head how important it was to keep the doors locked, even when you’re home.
Nathan followed me into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“Oh, my God,” I teased him. “How can you still be hungry after eating that monster burger and malt?”
He flexed a muscle. “I’m growing,” he said. “Just ‘cause you’re a skinny little twerp doesn’t mean everyone else has to eat like a bird.”