2. Darkness in the Blood Master copy MS 5 Read Online Free Page A

smelled icy somehow. “Mmm. Ethan. Hello.” I tried to smile, but I didn’t have the heart for it. I could hear how tired I was. I tried to remember the last time I had slept. I couldn’t. “Logan and I were just chatting about deadly and uncontrollable gifts. Have a muffin.”

Chapter Three:
    Close to Home

    Logan threw the paper he’d been reading earlier on the table like he was declaring checkmate. “Ethan. Good. My hard-headed sister seems addicted to monumentally stupid risk-taking.” I shot him my evilest glare.
    Ethan brushed against me as he slid into a chair. I inhaled the scent of flannel and cotton warmed by his skin; crushed juniper and soap; towels fresh from the dryer. I didn’t want to hear any more bad news. I wanted to lean against the arms I knew were waiting for me and go back to sleep. Ethan. Home. I didn’t even realize I was leaning towards him until I opened my eyes to his amused blue-green ones. “Have you had your third cup of coffee yet?” he asked, brushing my hair back from my forehead and tucking it behind one ear.
    “Just the one.” I looked mournfully at my now almost cold cup of coffee. “Logan’s being big brotherly at me.”
    “Sounds painful.” He smiled as if he hadn’t been writhing in pain for most of the night. He started for the coffee pot before I realized what he meant to do. “We’d better fix that immediately. Caspia without her coffee isn’t…”
    “ No!” Logan and I shouted simultaneously before he had a chance to pick up the coffee pot from its burner.  I half-rose from my chair, ready to lunge if needed. Logan was faster; he’d actually taken two steps towards the kitchen, dumping an indignant Abigail on her tail. Ethan froze at the sound of our shouts, the muscles of his shoulders tensing. He stood perfectly still. Only the tightly controlled way he held himself let me know just how much our reactions upset him.
    “It’s fine,” he said after a long moment. Abigail prowled between us, unsure which human most deserved her queenly scorn. Ethan, the muscles of his back practically vibrating with tension, wrapped his hands in two dishtowels. “Please sit down.” He held the coffee pot, the last remaining breakable item in our kitchen, with careful determination. I sat, my eyes on him the whole time. Logan followed more slowly, flushed with embarrassment. I refused to be embarrassed. I’d seen him get hurt too many times to care. His mortal body possessed remarkable strength. But he was still learning muscular control and hand-eye coordination. Routine tasks were fraught with danger. As Ethan gingerly set the glass pot full of scalding hot liquid down between us, I reached for his hand.
    “I’m sorry.” He let my hand linger for a second or two, but he wouldn’t look at me. The muscles in his jaw were as tight as his back had been. “It just hasn’t been that long since the hospital.” I sighed. “How are your stitches?”
    Without a word he flipped his arm wrist-up and yanked off the bandage. I winced. I felt queasy every single time I looked at it. Seventeen stitches from mid-wrist to just below the crook of his elbow.
    “I’m sorry,” I repeated automatically as he slid back into the seat next to me.
    “Don’t.” He touched my forearm, drummed against it lightly with his fingers. “It’s not your fault.” His smile was more bitter than graceful, but it was there. “I’m getting a little better. There’s hope I’ll figure this human thing out eventually.” But the closeness we’d shared, the thoughtless, automatic joy at sharing a morning together, was gone. 
    “Well.” Logan swirled a spoonful of honey into his green tea. “I, for one, was only trying to save you from drinking any more of that awful crap. Coffee is bad for you.” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, saluting us with his mug. “Green tea is full of anti-oxidants. The body is a temple.” He leaned back in his chair, radiating smugness.