Echo, Mine Read Online Free PDF Page A

judge. She beat her friend by a narrow margin, only because
she could actually make coffee .
    She left the kitchen. A quick shower first,
it would refresh and prepare her for whatever torture Lore had
planned for her tonight. She texted him, Be there in
ten.
    Lessons had started two weeks ago. And no
matter what Aethan said, there was no way she would cancel her
session, short of something cataclysmic happening.

Chapter 3

     
    “Damn, you're easy to beat today,” Týr
taunted as he rescued the small, checkered ball and dropped it back
on the foosball table. “Should have raised the stakes instead of
letting you buy me my next supply of candies.”
    Aethan snorted, well aware he’d lost because
his mind was elsewhere. “Why would I bet you something I actually
like?”
    Týr laughed. The door opened and Blaéz
sauntered inside, a book in his hand. The bruise on his jaw had
faded somewhat.
    “Yo, Celt, a game?” Týr called out.
    Blaéz glanced at him, his light eyes cool,
calculating. “Stakes?
    “My Easy Rider against that pair of bronze
daggers you recently acquired at the auction.”
    Aethan spun the foosball rod
once more and stepped back. No way would Blaéz bet those. He’d been after the weapons for a long time,
and he’d paid about as much, maybe more than the price of Týr’s
Harley.
    Blaéz handed Aethan the book and took his
place. “Very well.”
    Apparently, he was wrong. The warriors liked
living on the edge. He ought to know since he’d done the same
before Echo came into his life.
    Aethan left them to their game and prowled
past the leather armchairs and couches to the wet bar. Set in the
corner of the huge rec room near the French doors, it overlooked
the terrace where Echo’s overweight cat lay splayed out like
roadkill in the late afternoon sunlight. Insects buzzed around him.
Bob opened one amber eye, flicking his chimney-soot tail to chase
them away and nodded off again.
    Blaéz and Týr slammed their way into the
game, the bangs and grunts reverberating through the huge room. Dropping the book on the counter, Aethan
retrieved a can of orange juice from the bar fridge, cracked the
tab, and took a long swallow.
    He picked up the remote lying on the counter
and switched on the huge flat screen mounted on the opposite wall,
National Geographic came on. Several whales glided through the deep
blue ocean, blowing out a torrent of water into the
air —
    He raked his fingers through his loose hair,
his thoughts back on Echo . His power roiled within him,
demanding the calming effect only she could provide. He hadn’t
touched her in two days and he’d almost lost control outside—nearly
thrown out all his caution and just taken her right there, but
seeing that damn scar had halted his ardor.
    Gods , he pinched the bridge of his
nose. Images from last fall flooded him. She’d taken the hit—a
spelled bullet meant for him—blood flowing profusely from the wound
on her chest as she breathed her last and died in his arms. He
inhaled a harsh breath, his heart felt as if a giant fist was
squeezing it just remembering. Before the pain rendered him
helpless, he sidestepped those dark memories. His mouth tightened
with determination. No matter how annoyed Echo became with him, she
needed time. He’d give it to her.
    But she was pushing herself to the edge in
her effort to become stronger faster. He had to do something about
that. Switching off the TV, he tossed the remote back on the
counter.
    “I win,” Blaéz said. “The Easy Rider’s
mine.”
    At the warrior’s cool statement, Aethan
glanced at them. The Celt appeared about as excited as the
furniture in the room.
    “I don’t fucking believe it,” Týr swore,
tunneling his fingers through his messy hair. He glared at the
foosball men as if they’d betrayed him. “I lost my Harley.”
    “Don’t bet what you cherish. Later.” With a
smirk that didn't reach his winter-pale eyes, Blaéz strode out of
the room.
    Scowling, Týr crossed to