Keeper of the Alphas - Complete Read Online Free PDF Page A

second dress into her purse just in case. She gave her makeup a minimalist job and it still took her an hour to get all the pieces in place.
    By time Cami made it downstairs, she could already hear clanging in the kitchen. At least she didn’t have to actively remind herself it wasn’t her mother—Lynn hadn’t spent an awful lot of time in the kitchen, unless she was microwaving food or popping open a wine bottle. Late nights working at the hospital left Lynn strapped for energy and Cami had often picked up the slack, making dinners as soon as she was old enough to play with the stove.
    Smelled good, at least. Smelled like coffee .
    Marcus was hunched over the kitchen table, a plate of toast in front of him. His plaid shirt hung haphazardly on his shoulders, buttons undone, chest bared. Below, his pants were loose, plain. Even his clothes couldn’t be bothered to fully climb on his body.
    “Good morning,” Cami said as she stepped off the staircase and into the kitchen, feeling in a reparative mood after her long night’s sleep.
    “Good afternoon, you mean,” Marcus said in his low growl. Apparently, he wasn’t feeling quite so friendly.
    She scoffed, immediately withdrawing her palm branch. “Whatever. What are you eating?”
    “Lunch,” he said pointedly.
    Cami opened up the fridge and started hunting about. She pulled out a carton of eggs and some milk and then reached into the cabinet above her for the spices. She stretched on her tiptoes, but her fingertips only just brushed the spice jars.
    Marcus, apparently, could only bear to watch her struggle for so long before he was behind her, reaching over her head.
    “I got it,” she protested, but he wasn’t having it. He plucked the pepper for her and set it down, but she added, “And the paprika. And cayenne pepper.”
    “Are you brewing a witches’ stew?” he asked. His voice rang deep in her ear and, if she leaned back just a little, she could feel him behind her.
    “It’s called fried eggs.” She brushed against his hard, strong chest and found herself tilting against him. The rough scruff of his beard scraped against her cheek and she thought she could hear him swallow.
    He dropped her spices on the shelf and quickly stepped away, moving back to his spot on the table. She grabbed the pan and distracted herself by dropping some olive oil in it. Her medications were making her feel fuzzy, out of her body, but his warmth had helped and food would do the trick to settle her back into her skin.
    “How long have you been up?” she asked as she cracked an egg on the lip of the pan, expertly removing any trace of shell.
    “Since five.”
    “You’re kidding me. No one wakes up at five.”
    “I do. Crack of dawn.”
    “I’m pretty sure even the sun doesn’t wake up at five.”
    She fried up a pair of eggs and then slid them effortlessly out of the pan and onto her plate. With that, she took a seat next to him and started digging in. Almost weird, breakfast with a guy. Most (Seth included) preferred she left in the morning. Or they were too busy, things to see, people to do, to even bother with breakfast. She wasn’t sure how to start breakfast (or lunch, depending who you were talking to) conversation, so she glanced around. “Where’s your TV?”
    “Don’t have one. Have a radio.”
    She stopped chewing to narrow her eyes suspiciously at him. “What century are you from?”
    He lifted his eyebrows. “What century are you from?”
    “1991.”
    “Twenty-three. Aren’t you a little young to be so bleak?”
    “Twenty-four. Aren’t you a little old to be so bad at math?”
    He scowled.
    “Okay, so what do you do for fun around here?” Cami said and poked at her eggs. He seemed to lapse into thought at that, so she added, “You do know what fun means, don’t you?”
    “I keep busy,” he said. “I hunt. Chop wood for the fireplace. Keep the place upright.” He pointed to the staircase. “Rebuilt the bannister on that one.”
    Ah . So