The Night Has Teeth Read Online Free PDF

tease,
withholding the fact that I managed to do the same.
    Josh planted himself between us, but now settles
back in his chair as we examine what is clearly Amara’s sample
book. Getting a tattoo is nothing I’ve ever considered. Like I said
to Madison, not in this lifetime. And I meant it. But my confidence
wavers when I take in these images. This artwork isn’t just
breathtaking. It draws a sense of daring out of me from a place I
never knew existed. Not that I would ever say that out loud.
    Rising to his feet, Josh asks, “Where’s the boys’
room?”
    “There isn’t one,” Madison tells him with a smirk.
“It’s a girls’ boarding house, remember? Powder room’s in the
foyer.”
    With a shake of his head, he walks inside. Not even
a fraction of a second passes before she jumps into his seat to get
a better view of the sketches. When she reaches to turn the page,
she pauses for a moment, hand mid-air. It takes me a stupid amount
of time to clue in that my fingers are resting on the edge of the
paper, then I move them out of the way. Without Josh around to take
the edge off her, I can’t seem to find my words, so I just admire
the artwork in silence, all the while wondering when he’ll be back
and trying to figure out how to stop my palms from sweating.
    “It was pretty epic,” she admits.
    Believe me, I’m trying to figure it out.
    “Lone Wolf and Cub ?” she says in that questioning, testy
voice she turns to whenever someone hasn’t filled in the blanks
fast enough for her.
    “Right. Um, cool.”
    The tight edges of her lips tell me that she’s
trying not to laugh at me. For some reason it’s funny to me, the
way she restrains herself. Like she might hurt my feelings or
something when she hasn’t shown any indication of caring one way or
another about what other people think before now. When I chuckle,
she lets her laughter loose, too.
    “Geek.”
    “Takes one to know one,” I lob back.
    A shadow looms over us. Josh stands by her side,
expectantly waiting for his seat back, casting her a look that she
tries to ignore by averting her eyes to the drawings. When I glance
over at him, his focus remains on her for a long and hopeless
moment. Then his eyes flick over to me. He smiles, but it doesn’t
reach his eyes. Instead of taking the chair by her side, he walks
across from us and leans against the balcony railing to stare out
at the woods. After about five minutes of listening to us talk
about tattoos and Japanese films, he sort of drifts away. I feel a
little guilty for unintentionally shutting him out.
    Eventually, Josh lets out an annoyed sigh. “Why
don’t you two get a room already?”
    “Shh!” she says dramatically. “Don’t let the
schoolmarm hear you talking like that.”
    The woman who runs the boarding house is one who, in
Madison’s estimation, could be Miss Manners herself. Personally, I
don’t think she’s really all that bad. After all, she clearly
hasn’t set any ground rules about Madison’s appearance. Not that
there’s anything wrong with how she looks. It all adds to her
charm. But the changing eyebrow rings, mini skirts and brightly
dyed hair seem to fly in the face of everything this place stands
for: tradition and decorum. Maybe she’s Miss Manners for the 21st
century.
    “I love this one,” Madison coos, pointing to a
black and red image of a wolf done in a Native American
style.
    I take it as a good segue to ask her about her
background, but Josh interrupts again.
    “Can we please change the topic?” he begs. “It’s
not like you can afford another tattoo right now,
anyway.”
    “Another one?” I’m unable to hide my
surprise.
    We all look up at the sound of someone clearing her
throat. A middle-aged woman stands at the open French doors. She
wears a billowy white blouse and high-waisted gray slacks. Her
hands are crossed neatly in front of her. In fact, everything about
her is tidy, from the dark hair pulled back into a chignon to her
polished