Blood-Bonded by Force Read Online Free PDF

blocked-off sexual plumbing saying hey, watch it, bub in full contradiction to his mind shouting yahoo, let’s rock ! Such fun to have schizophrenic sex organs. He stepped out of Hadley’s arms. “Hey, now, don’t start in on that. I’ll end up on the floor.” He was smiling, though, really happy for the first time in a long time. “I gotta go, Hadley, but let’s have dinner tonight to celebrate.”
    She laughed. “It’s Thanksgiving, silly. We’re going to the Bruns’ house, remember?”
    “Oh, yeah. We’ll celebrate there, then.” What better place to raise a toast to his future than with his family and friends? “I’m really proud of you.” He gave her a quick kiss and took off down Main Street again.

    Ţărână’s hospital stood between the community grocery store and the beginnings of the residential neighborhood where couples with children lived. Every house there was painted a different bright color, but each one had a white picket fence out front surrounding a lawn of artificial turf. Various other fake plants and potted flowers littered the yards, depending on individual preferences, creating the illusion of any upper-middle-class neighborhood from topside rather than the inside of a cave. At the end of the street, there was a schoolhouse on the right, and on the left a path leading toward the Water Cliffs park, where sand, waterfalls, and pools provided for fun family outings. It was very happy-go-lucky stuff, and Thomal grinned so widely it was a wonder the sides of his mouth didn’t knock his ears in. He’d be living here soon. He knew just how he’d arrange the plants in the front yard, too…although he should probably leave that to Hadley.
    Tonĩ Parthen’s office took up a huge corner of the ground floor of the four-story hospital building. A desk of pale wood sat to the left of the door and a cluster of couch, chairs, and coffee table were situated opposite. Straight across from the entrance was a frosted sliding glass door which led out to a garden courtyard where convalescing patients could sit or hobble about. Above the couch hung a rectangular picture of one-hundred-percent girlie crap: flowers on a hillside. On the wall by the door was mounted a state-of-the-art flat screen TV.
    Raln Dodrescu, Ţărână’s media tech guy, was currently kneeling beneath it, fiddling with the TiVo. Raln was in charge of television programming for the community, which mostly consisted of him flip-flopping shows to meet Ţărână’s backward day/night cycle. Nighttime topside was daytime here, and vice versa, and it wouldn’t go down well to have primetime TV playing, like the risqué Two and a Half Men , during kids’ breakfast while SpongeBob Squarepants was the only thing available for adults in the evening.
    Raln was only a few years older than Thomal, but was of the “lost” generation of Vârcolac. He was married to a woman of his own breed and had suffered through the birth of two stillborn babies before he and his wife gave up on the idea of a family. Devastated by years of death and loss, most couples of this lost generation had stopped trying for children even long before Roth Mihnea, Tonĩ’s co-leader of Ţărână, had forbidden all future Vârcolac-to-Vârcolac reproduction. Real tragic stuff.
    Jaċken was already in Tonĩ’s office when the rest of them arrived: Dev Nichita, who was the leader of the Special Ops Topside Team, an expert military unit created to deal with problems occurring up on planet earth, then Gábor Pavenic, Sedge Stănescu, and Thomal himself.
    “Forward to the spot when the police officer leaves the house,” Tonĩ directed Raln. “Then freeze-frame as soon as the door swings open.”
    Nodding, Raln super-slow-forwarded the picture. On the TV, a female newscaster was reporting in front of a single family home, the tag of “El Cerrito” on the lower right hand corner of the screen, indicating where she was in San Diego.
    “Who did the reporter say