Edge of Seventeen Read Online Free PDF

possibility given her age. She was
wearing jeans, ripped at the knees, and a purple cardigan over a
graphic print t-shirt.
    For all her ubiquity, something about her lit
a fire in his belly that just about sent his wolf barreling out of
control. Unable to reconcile what he saw with what raged inside
him, Cyrus leered at her with a mixture of spite and disbelief.
Nothing like this had ever happened to him before and it was unwelcome .
    Her aura simultaneously trapped him in her
orbit and thrust him out of it. She was hardly a teenager and what
he was feeling was hardly seduction, but there was some
inexplicable attraction and Cyrus wanted nothing more than to fend
it off. She wasn’t a sexy woman spreading her legs and inviting him
to feast. She wasn’t a little girl with a skinned knee begging for
a protector. Yet he was flummoxed by an overpowering juxtaposition
of all of these emotions brewing within him. So abruptly, so
unexpectedly.
    Cyrus’ wolf had demanded something it never
had before, even in the face of his Alpha: it forced him to lower
his gaze. While his wolf lowered its head and deferred all
authority over to the petulant fourteen year-old god-kin, Cyrus
seethed. He was unable to understand what was happening to him and
needing it desperately to stop… now and forever. If Angel
had seen it for himself, he might still not have believed it. No
one would have, least of all Cyrus.
    Not knowing what to do or what to say or even
if he’d wanted to do or say anything at all, Cyrus hesitated. He
postured at the open car door and the girl who hadn’t even bothered
to tilt her head his way. As he geared up to bark a command at her
or stalk back to her and yank her free of the back seat, his words
caught in his throat. He was all but frozen into inaction. Cyrus
shot a frazzled look to Angel who still huffed and puffed as he
paced. Angel caught Cyrus’ unreadable expression with a furrowed
brow that told Cyrus as much about Angel’s frustration than
reflected by his own internal battery.
    I can’t do this , Cyrus thought.
    His mind blanked of anything else. There was
nothing else to think of, not when caught in her orbit, and not
when he couldn’t take a breath without feeling his eyes sting with
fiery tears.
    When the girl finally moved, it was to fill
and then vacate her lungs with a long-drawn sigh. Her entire body
slumped in the back seat as she’d sighed. She was exhausted, that
much was clear. Cyrus could see the bags under her eyes now. Heavy
lids drooped over her light brown eyes so clear that they were
almost translucent.
    All the inactivity about her was making her
tired. More than any desire to eat that she had complained about
earlier, Sunday wanted some rest; real rest, not fake, drug-induced
rest. And whatever , she told herself. Whatever to the
hunger and whatever to her abduction and whatever to
these creepazoid werewolves that hovered around her building ire
and doing nothing to release it. What Sunday was going to do was
sleep. They were at a motel, after all. She was sure they’d at
least let her have a bed.

CHAPTER
FOUR
    Quietly,
Sunday unbuckled her seat belt and stepped onto the dusty New
Mexico soil. The sky was blues and purples so vibrant they seemed
unreal. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back to face the
afternoon sun. Though the dry desert air was crisp and biting, the
sun flooded her with warmth. The instant she opened her eyes again,
she felt the weight of her day-long journey and was wracked by the
urgency to sleep.
    The biggest werewolf she had ever seen was
standing before her, gold-flecked brown eyes lashing over her. If
she wasn’t so tired, she would say something that smarted to get
him to chill the fuck out. Instead, the corner of her lip pinched
into one cheek in a twitch, and she shuffled forward without giving
herself a second to look at him.
    For as long as she could remember, Sunday
could feel everything around her. She could sense things before
they were going