Breed of Havoc (The Breed Chronicles #3) (47 page)

Then again, even if I had, I never would have expected to be the research that was stolen. Was that irony or just fate being a bitch?

“Jade? You okay?”

“Sorry. Yeah. Just lost in thought.”

Linc stopped and studied my face. “Anything you want to share?”

“Classes,” I lied.

“Canceled for the duration.”

“What?” I frowned. “They can’t cancel class. I want to finish one Phase like a normal person. I haven’t yet, you realize that?”

“Too late. The day after you…disappeared, Greene said they were canceled for now. I think everyone—including the staff—is still kind of reeling from…things. Nothing like this has happened before,” he said quietly, “so I’m not sure anyone really knows how to handle things. I think the CGE is prepared for just about anything, except—”

“What happened to me. Leave it to me to always have to be the first at something,” I said, trying to laugh and smile. It was fake, and we both knew it, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes anyway.

“There’s a bright side to all of this, or at least a less dim side.”

“There is? I could use a bright side—or a less dim side.” I could use a whole bucket of them.

“We’ll be hunters by this time next year.”

I didn’t respond with anything but a nod. I’d meant what I told Creeper, that I’d hunt him down. I wasn’t the most patient person in the world, but I would make it my life’s mission to find him—and the demon that killed my family—no matter how long it took.

So as far as I was concerned, Phase Four had already started. I was a hunter and I knew my prey. I just had to find him first.

The End

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Breed of Havoc
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C
OPYRIGHT

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity between actual persons living and dead is purely coincidental. Any use of locales, establishments, or events are used fictitiously.

BREED OF HAVOC

Copyright © 2014 by Lanie Jordan. All rights reserved.

Cover art Copyright © 2014 by Lanie Jordan.

ISBN: 978-1-890785-56-7

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A
BOUT
L
ANIE

Lanie Jordan writes stories. Sometimes her characters drive her crazy, but then she gets her revenge by making their lives more difficult. Fictional payback is fun.

To find out more about Lanie and her stories, you can visit her at the links below. And if you want to say hi to her, she wouldn't mind that either. (She's only mean to her characters. And sometimes her cats—but only when they really deserve it.)

Website:
http://www.laniejordan.com

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http://twitter.com/#!/Lanie_Jordan

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O
THER
T
ITLES BY
L
ANIE

Available Now:

Breed of Innocence
, Book #01 in The Breed Chronicles, a YA Urban Fantasy.

Breed of Envy
, Book #02 in The Breed Chronicles, a YA Urban Fantasy.

Shadow and Light
, a YA Fantasy.

Twin Tied
, a YA Paranormal.

Next up: Book #04 in The Breed Chronicles.

Keep reading for an excerpt of TWIN TIED.

E
XCERPT

Twin Tied:

The streets were mostly deserted. Stores were closed and the sidewalks were bare. Things were peaceful. Relaxing.

And peace was something I very much needed at the moment.

My parents were out of town for two weeks to celebrate their nineteenth anniversary (in the freaking Bahamas!). Unfortunately, when you were one-half of a set of twins, it left an almost-empty house still very full.

I loved my sister, really, I did, but sometimes she was just too much. Way, way too much. Like tonight.

I wanted one hour of peace and Kailee—my annoying other half—was too busy yapping on the phone to give it to me. So I’d grabbed my iPod, stuffed the ear buds into my ears, and relinquished the house to her. It’d been over an hour since I’d left, so hopefully when I got back, she’d be off the phone and I could go hide in my room until tomorrow.

With
Nickleback
blasting in my ears, I stopped at the side of the road and looked both ways. I spotted headlights down the street, but after a minute of waiting, I realized the car they were coming from must’ve been parked, so I shrugged and started to cross.

“Watch out!” I heard when I made it to the middle of the road.

I turned to see who was being yelled at and who had yelled. The glare of headlights shone in my eyes, nearly blinding me, and I realized the warning was meant for me. My eyes went wide.

Move! Run!

I heard the words, but I couldn’t tell if they were from another source or inside my own head. Either way, my legs wouldn’t follow the simple command. The car got closer and closer, and I could’ve sworn that, instead of slowing down, the car actually accelerated.

Something slammed into me from the side and then I was flying. I landed hard, with the upper half of my body sprawled awkwardly on the sidewalk and the lower half on the road. My breath whooshed out in a painful exhale, and my chest hurt, like a team of football players had trampled me on their way to a goalpost.

There was an insane buzzing in my head.

I took a shaky breath that burned my lungs. I lay there, unmoving, eyes closed, trying to gulp in air. Everything hurt. I was afraid to move, afraid to try since I could feel something wet creeping down my arm and leg.

“Are you okay?” a panicked, male voice said from above me. At least, I assumed it came from above (I still hadn’t risked opening my eyes yet).

I nodded once. Slowly, I moved one of my arms, and then the other, trying to gauge if anything was broken. “I—yeah. Maybe?” I questioned it because I wasn’t really sure. All I knew with any kind of certainty was that I was alive.

Being dead couldn’t hurt so much.

“Can you open your eyes?” At the same time I heard the voice, I felt a hand touch my face, then the back of my head.

I opened one eye to a squint. Immediately I regretted the decision, groaned, and re-closed it as the world began to spin. Nausea churned in my stomach like the craziness of white water rapids, and my head hurt something fierce. Had I hit it?

I had a hard time telling what hurt—or rather, what
didn’t
hurt. The head made the list, along with my right arm and leg, and an unknown number of ribs.

“Head hurt?”

“I’m not sure what doesn’t,” I replied. My tone was something between a whisper and a croak. Taking a deep breath, I released it slowly and opened both of my eyes. A face swam into view and I tried focusing on it instead of the various parts of my body that ached. Hazel, concern-filled eyes stared back at me.

The guy chuckled and I tried to glare, though just narrowing my eyes hurt my head. “Mind keeping it down? I think the ground hurt me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I groaned at their stupidity.
I think the ground hurt me? Really?
Geesh. I shook my head for the half-second it took me to remember doing that hurt. “Ignore that.”

The chuckle sounded again, but as requested, this time it was much lower. “Sorry about that,” the guy said quietly. He turned, looked at…something. I couldn’t see what with his body blocking my view, but when he turned back, his eyes seemed darker. Dangerous. “It was either tackle you or let you get run over. I figured you’d prefer not being hit.”

Whatever he’d seen had made him angry. Even if I hadn’t caught the look in his eyes, I caught the tone of his voice. There was a hardened edge to it. “What is it?” I asked.

“Hmm?” He peered down at me with a quizzical look. “Oh, nothing.”

I looked down the street. I still didn’t see anything that might’ve made him angry. Frowning, I shot a look at my tackler.

The almost-frown vanished and an easy smile appeared in its place. “Think you can move yet?”

“Can and want are two different things,” I muttered. Moving sounded like a very bad idea and I’d hoped to procrastinate a while longer before I actually had to try. Moving my arms had been bad enough. “Give me an hour, and then I’ll let you know.”

He grinned again and my breath caught. It was still semi-painful, but at least this time it had nothing to do with being mowed down.

He held out a hand for me, obviously not taking my statement seriously.

“Fine, I will if I have to.” With a preemptive wince (because I was sure there’d be more pain), I pushed myself to a sitting position. As expected, everything protested at the movement. I really hoped that was the most I’d have to move for at least another five minutes.

“Come on,” he said, bursting my small, naïve bubble of hope. “You can’t be comfortable.”

I wanted to argue but didn’t. He was right—the ground wasn’t comfortable and I couldn’t see that changing. I let out a loud sigh and brushed the hair from my face. “Okay.”

Taking my hands in his, he pulled me to my feet. My right arm stung and ached and my ribs screamed in renewed agony.

“Dizzy?”

I shook my head. “No.”

After a second, he released his hold and backed up. Gingerly, I took a step forward. My leg gave way.

With quick hands, Tackler grabbed me and kept me from falling again. Although ‘falling again’ probably wasn’t the most accurate term since I’d been tackled the first time. Not that I was complaining. I definitely preferred that to being run over.

That definitely wasn’t on tonight’s to-do list. Cleaning, laundry, reading, Kai avoiding. Those were on the list.

Death by vehicle was not.

“Thanks,” I told him. My voice came out as shaky as my legs felt. I looked down the street, frowned. We were the only people in sight. I opened my mouth half a dozen times to say something, but no sound ever came out. I couldn’t think of what
to
say.

“Brennan.”

I glanced back at him and looked into his eyes. They were the prettiest color I’d ever seen. They weren’t quite hazel like I’d thought at first, more of a teal. I gave a mental headshake and cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”

“My name.” One side of his mouth raised in a partial smile. “Brennan Ward.”

“Oh.” Heat crept up my cheeks and I struggled not to blush at my own idiocy. “I’m Lexa. Lexa Tate”

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I will be.” Probably. “I’m just a little banged up.” I finally looked at him—somewhere other than his eyes, anyway. He was tall, I realized dimly. At least four or five inches taller than me, and I was five-six. His hair was black and spiked. My gaze traveled down his arms. My earlier thought of being trampled by a football team hadn’t been far off—he looked like he played, or at least could. Defense or something. “Thanks, by the way.”

He—Brennan—had risked his life to save mine and all I could think to say was
thanks
? Well, wasn’t that great. Silently, I wondered if one of the card companies made
Thanks for saving my life!
cards or balloons.

His dark eyebrows drew together. “For?”

“You know—the little part you played in saving my life.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, looking almost as uncomfortable as I felt. “It was no big deal.”

Nice hair, nice smile, and humble too. My very own knight in shining armor.

“I mean it. What you did was really brave. You could have been hurt.”

“You’re welcome.”

I glanced up and down the road, sighed. “I really don’t know what happened. The car was parked before I started to cross the street. It was clear—or so I’d thought.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks. Again.”

He nodded, then after a moment, smiled and said, “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but...”

“It’s nice to meet you too, and can I just say I’m glad you were around?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here.
A shudder racked my body.

“Are you cold?” Even as he said it, he was already pulling his hoodie over his head. His shirt rode up, showing off his stomach and abs before he pushed it back down.

Forcing my gaze back to his face, I shook my head. “Not really.”

Brennan raised an eyebrow and gave me a funny look. “You’re shivering.”

“Oh?” I looked down and sure enough, I
was
shivering. I hadn’t noticed. “Well, huh.”

He pushed the shirt at me but I shook my head. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

He tossed it to me. “Don’t worry about it. Just take it.”

Obediently, I pulled the hoodie over my head—which was still warm from his body—and got a whiff of his scent. I didn’t exactly go around sniffing guys, but most of the ones I’d known wore enough cologne or body spray that it’d make you gag from miles away.