Phoenix Fallen Read Online Free PDF

Confederate soldier, and deserter, among many other things. He had never lost his love for staging a good chilling show, though. And a twisted flair for the dramatic.
    Rissa shivered, her eyes popping open to stare at the ceiling.
    He was psycho-squared, with periods of charming lucidity. She'd never really gotten over the oily feel he'd left tainting her mind.
    But scary as he was, her sire didn't play ball in the same league as Rousseau. From the little Rissa knew of the ancient French vamp, he was as decent as their kind came, though most certainly not the kind you wanted to tick off. There were stories about what happened when Miles de Rousseau got pissed. Stories of mythical and bloody proportions.
    She wondered what kind of history Jules had with him. She itched to reach for her laptop again, to do a little more research on the man that drew her so strangely, but decided against it. Jules Gentry was not her problem.
    So what if she found him incredibly hot? So what if he pulled at her heartstrings?
    So what if she recognized the signs of a vamp on edge, a vamp very close to breaking…
    If he couldn't manage to accept his monster, he was better off seeking the sun.
    That was the cold, hard truth.
    If that twisted her up inside; well, too bad, so sad.
    She'd dealt with worse. Rissa watched the ceiling fan whirl until sleep claimed her, down into the old, familiar nightmares where Daimen spun her by the hand, laughing as she danced to screams that never seemed to end.
     
    Jules woke twisted up inside and for a moment he couldn't remember why. The sound of screaming rang in his ears, but that was normal.
    For him.
    He always woke to that sound. Ever since he was nine years old.  Jules supposed one day the screams would fade. Or maybe not. Maybe now that he was a vampire and the aging process had effectively been cut off, maybe he would never live to hear that pain silenced.
    The sounds of his family being ripped apart by monsters — and always the low, taunting drawl of the worst of them.
    Come out, Come out, boy! Don't ya all want to play?
    If he closed his eyes again, Jules knew he would feel the sheets of Spanish moss tickling his face, the fiery scratches on his knees, the sting of Sim's blood in his eyes, mingling with the tears choking his throat as he ran barefoot through the swamp, water flying up with every sucking step.
    Running away. Obeying his mother's last command even though living through that night was the hardest thing he had ever done.
    With a snarl, Jules got to his feet, shaking off his past until images from last night started to bleed through the older memories.
    Rissa.
    Spears. No wonder he had a sick taste in his mouth. His second drink hadn't been any better than his first. Worse, especially after getting the scent of Clarissa Styles in his nose for comparison.
    Jesus, that woman! He kicked open the bathroom door, taking a long piss before washing his hands and splashing quantities of icy water on his aching eyes. Sometimes drinking blood gave him a worse hangover that the most godawful, cotton-mouthed, rolling-gut, morning-after he'd ever had in his hellion days.
    Kelsey had never mentioned having such issues. Maybe Rissa had a point, maybe it was time to move on up. The bleeders at Spears were drained on a regular basis, after all. Maybe it did something nasty to their blood. Weakening it or something.
    Perhaps he should visit this damn place of Rissa's just to see if…
    No.
    Fuck that.
    First her voice lured him in off the street, now she was going to tighten the strings with blood? Nope.
    He needed to stay away from her. Jules raised his head, staring into his own eyes in the cabinet mirror.
    Yeah, like that was going to happen.
    He shook his head at his own stupidity, but he knew himself too well to try and fight it. Her voice was the only damn thing that settled him since he'd come back from Paris. The only thing that gave him any measure of peace.
    Without it, he was afraid he would go