Edge of Seventeen Read Online Free PDF Page B

to happen; mostly, because people made those things
happen and, usually, people brewed with intention to do it before
they did. Even thoughts and feelings that occurred so quickly that
people considered them “passions” or whatever, Sunday felt for a
long while before people even realized what they were going
through.
    The blond werewolf’s crazy sudden tsunami of
emotions wasn’t technically a dime-a-dozen kind of inner turmoil,
but her curiosity wasn’t getting the best of her. If it was hard
enough to diagnose mundane adults, it was probably impossible to
read and comprehend a werewolf. What she knew was this: This
was a man who needed a reason to hate her because, whatever it was
that he was feeling, he didn’t want even a bit of it. The thing
was, he also needed a reason to stop from tearing her to pieces.
She was a job, and he couldn’t turn up with an Incarnate carcass in
his hands and shrug it off like he’d only squashed a fly. It might
have made her woozy with the way everything he felt rolled off his
skin, but she needed to walk away from it.
    Quite frankly, it wasn’t her responsibility.
She figured that, whatever he needed, Fate would find a way to give
it to him. She fully intended on ignoring him. Sunday didn’t know
what would happen exactly . She didn’t know why she was so
important, precisely . But she knew that things happened and
that, in some way, she was supposedly some big deal in the
preternatural community. Her life was mapped out, at least for the
time being. To Sunday, this happened. Furthermore, to
Sunday, so much more would happen. She figured that she’d
just as well let whatever was going to happen happen .
    This afternoon, Sunday wasn’t going to say
anything to the werewolf drawing hard breaths and standing in her
way. There’d be no consolation and there’d be no prize. Rather than
incite any more fury from another person who could rip her to
shreds, she rubbed her eyes, turned back to the open car door, and
reached in to collect her purse. With the straps fisted and her arm
lax, her bag dragged by her feet as she walked past the new wolf
and Angel, still stomping and glowering at her from where he stood
at the back of the truck.
    For a heartbeat, Sunday halted. She craned
her neck to look behind at the big bearded werewolf and at least
give him the benefit of a sideways glance, but she found his eyes
turned away. With eyebrows furrowed heavily and an expression so
sharp it could cut through steel, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
    Sunday rolled her eyes and shook her head,
the wisps of her long brown bangs catching in the momentary breeze.
This man wasn’t going to show her the slightest modicum of respect.
He wouldn’t even talk to her like the others did. When she realized
that any acknowledgement sought would be in vain, she sighed deeply
and drew her eyes away from him. It still wasn’t her problem.
Regardless, if it was, she was too damn tired. The drugs might be
out of her system, but they had taken their toll and she was
wrecked.
    One of the motel room doors behind him was
ajar. It had to be theirs. She slung her knapsack strap over her
shoulder and her body slumped beneath the weight of it. When she
eventually reached the room, she walked in as casually as if she
were entering her own room.
    Stephen looked up at her with a Cheshire
grin. Thick rippled arms crossed behind his shaved head, the
shortest of the three werewolves had his legs outstretched on the
bed. Though she looked at the empty space beside him for a second’s
consideration, she knew she wasn’t so tired that she would jump
into bed next to a werewolf. Her eyes flicked to the empty bed with
the sheets still tucked under the mattress at the other end of the
room.
    “Glad to see you’ve made it, kiddo,” Stephen
said. He wasn’t trying to hide the entertainment he found at her
ultimate submission to getting out of the car.
    “Whatever,” she retorted. If she could have
peppered it with a little