Trouble Bruin Read Online Free PDF

energy was in the air again, crackling over her skin, humming through her veins. Her nipples were hard against the cotton of her T-shirt and there was a pulsing between her thighs that was impossible to ignore.
    Art was looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive, then lick the plate clean. He fisted his hands by his sides, as though fighting the temptation to touch her. Without her volition, she swayed towards him. Her heart thundered in her chest. He bent his head, his lips almost grazing hers…
    There was a deliberate cough. Charlie jerked her head around to see Titch with her hands over her eyes. “Just tell me when I can look. I’m okay with the violence, but I get traumatized by mushy stuff.”
    Art stepped back from Charlie so fast she almost stumbled, leaving a hollow ache in her center. A muscle in his jaw twitched and he refused to meet her eyes.
    They stomped off to opposite sides of the campfire and, despite Titch’s doomed attempts to get them talking again, they stayed there for the rest of the night.

Chapter Six
     
    Charlie stumbled, and Art caught her arm to steady her. His fingers were strong and sure, and she could have smacked herself for enjoying his touch on her skin, despite her tiredness. He seemed such a steady, reassuring presence that it was easy to forget he was a Starweed junkie – about as unpredictable as they came. And clearly suffering from paranoia. She couldn’t allow herself to be swayed by his sincerity, his apparently rock-solid belief that Dynamic Earth were out to get him – once they were deep enough into the addiction, from what Dr. Atkins had told her, Starweed users jumped at shadows and heard voices – and often listened to them, and the conspiracy theories they spun.
    If anything, his sincerity, his apparent gentleness, made her all the more determined to help him, whether he wanted her to or not.
    That didn’t mean she was going to let her guard down, though. She wouldn’t soon forget the rage burning in the depths of his eyes the previous night. She wouldn’t want to have it directed at her.
    Titch was chattering away, regaling them with version four hundred and twenty-six of what she planned to do with the rest of her life. “So my great uncle’s a count, and he has this castle in Romania…”
    Charlie cast an affectionate glance at her. “Are you ever serious?”
    Titch looked hurt. “It’s true!” she replied, crossing her heart with one grubby finger. “And anyway I’m serious a lot. About the important things. Like food – I’m very serious about food.”
    “That’s true,” Art said. “She is. It’s kind of scary. When I was cooking the rabbits last night, she was slavering. I thought she might just dislocate her jaw and swallow them whole, like a python. I shudder to think what she’d do if faced with silverware.”
    Titch scowled. “Transylvanian nobility do not slaver ,” she said firmly. But the banter had lightened the mood a little.
    The cliffs to either side had been closing in as they walked, and soon they entered the mouth of a shallow dry gully. Its steep walls cast a pleasant cool shade, and by mutual unspoken agreement, they slowed their pace, dawdling along and enjoying the more refreshing temperature and the dappled shadows.
    Charlie spun as there was a soft thud behind her. A man had dropped into the gorge, and he stood with his feet planted and his arms spread wide, as if to block her escape should she try to run. He had a thin, unhealthy looking face covered with several days-worth of salt-and-pepper scruff, and his body odor had the unpleasant undertone of sickness – but he looked wiry and strong and, worse, desperate. When he spoke, his voice had a clotted, growling quality. “Don’t give us any trouble, and maybe we won’t hurt the little girl.”
    Another muffled sound, and Charlie turned again to see that the man was not alone. His two companions had boxed in Art and Titch, leaving the three of them surrounded.