Crazy in the Blood (Latter-Day Olympians) Read Online Free PDF Page B

slithered to the floor. He pushed the door open and picked me up again. It probably would have been romantic if I hadn’t wanted to puke down the front of his shirt.
    Even my back hitting the bed was almost too much to bear. It was a bed of nails or hot coals or razor blades…
    Armani vanished and was back, dumping half the contents of my medicine cabinet, water, a half-finished package of saltines and what I guessed was a barf bowl onto my bedside table.
    “I’ll sit with you,” he said, brushing my hair back from my face. His hand was like sandpaper.
    Shaking my head hurt, so I worked my throat to croak, “No. Won’t be pretty. Don’t want you to see me this way.”
    He didn’t move, but sat studying me. I’d never told him about the ambrosia. I was sure I could kick the addiction and was too embarrassed about my own stupidity in consorting with the gods…well, god . But mostly, I was afraid he’d righteously try to kick Apollo’s ass. Afraid he’d fail.
    Which made me an addict and a liar-by-omission.
    My stomach lurched and I reached for the bowl. Armani jumped out of the way.
    “I’ll check in later then,” he said hastily. “Call me if you need anything.”
    And he fled. Coward.
    It was a false alarm. I fell back against the pillows, bowl clutched in my arms, and prayed for death.
    My eyes closed, and I fell into a hell of shakes, sweats and lost time.  
     
    My face and neck split open from the razor-sharp claws that slashed from every direction. So quickly that I only registered the pain as I was falling. Teeth flashed then, so many. Drawn by the blood? Definitely slathering—drool dripping down, burning as it hit my open wounds, then seeming to bubble like acid, eating right through me, melting me away. The better to eat you with, my dear . Those teeth—biting, rending—rivaled even the breath, hot as the fires of hell, that seemed to cook me on contact. It smelled of death, and not just one. An entire abattoir.
    Spreading numbness started to chase away the pain, and I knew I was lying somewhere, bleeding out. Literally half the girl I used to be. Chill air hit my exposed…everything…temporarily whipping up the pain again, bringing the nerves back on-line. I knew from the breeze that I was outdoors, even as I knew that didn’t make any sense.
     
    I burst awake, flailing, panicked, my heart pounding as if to prove it still could. I wasn’t going out like this, dammit. I had things to do, a mystery to solve.
    It took two tries before I could get my hand to obey me and move. The buttons on my phone betrayed me, but I still had voice dial.
    “Call—Apollo,” I managed.
    I faded again until his voice startled me out of it. “Tori?” he answered. “You have a lot of nerve—”
    “Help,” I cried.

Chapter Three
    “What doesn’t kill you doesn’t necessarily make you stronger. Wiser, maybe, but don’t count on it.”
    —Christos Karacis
     
    I opened my eyes to the face of an angel—the fallen variety. The kind designed to lead others into temptation and have them thank him for it. Repeatedly. To make matters worse, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight slanting the mattress so that my body seemed inclined to slide toward his.
    Apollo’s golden hair was wild, like the corona of the sun, like it would look after someone had run their fingers through it, clutching his head to their breast or…elsewhere…urging him not to stop. My mind supplied an image of me in that position, Apollo above me, gazing down with those impossible turquoise eyes turbulent with emotion…
    I shut it down, closed my eyes and focused on breathing. In and out. No, that was bad. Just…bad.
    “Move away,” I said through gritted teeth.
    Apollo shifted fractionally, but I could feel him staring at me still. My body cried out for contact, but I ruthlessly ignored it, even though every single cell seemed to strain toward Apollo. I felt alive. More than alive. Manically, enthusiastically, quite