Aiden jerked back, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. We didn’t—”
His apology only angered me further. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him let me go. I wanted… I wanted… I didn’t know what the hell I wanted, but I couldn’t stop myself from screaming, clawing, and kicking him. Only when Aiden pressed his long, lean body against mine did I stop. His weight, the close proximity, held me immobile.
There wasn’t an inch of space between us. I could feel the hard ripple of his abdominal muscles pressing against my stomach, could feel his lips only inches from mine. Suddenly I entertained a wild idea. I wondered if his lips felt as good as they looked… because they looked awesome.
That was a wrong thought to have. I had to be crazy—the only plausible excuse for what I was doing and thinking. The way I stared at his lips or the fact I desperately wanted to be kissed—all wrong for a multitude of reasons. Besides the fact I’d just tried to knock his head off, I looked like a mess. Grime dirtied my face beyond recognition; I hadn’t showered in a week and I was pretty sure I smelled. I was thatgross.
But the way he lowered his head, I really thought he was going to kiss me. My entire body tensed in anticipation, like waiting to be kissed for the first time, and this was definitely not the first time I’d been kissed. I’d kissed lots of boys, but not him.
Not a pure-blood.
Aiden shifted, pressing down further. I inhaled sharply and my mind raced a million miles a second, spewing out nothing helpful. He moved his right hand to my forehead. Warning bells went off.
He murmured a compulsion, fast and low, too quick for me make out the words.
Son of a—
A sudden darkness rushed me, void of thought and meaning. There was no fighting something that powerful, and without getting out so much as a word of protest, I sank into its murky depths.
***
Jennifer L. Armentrout lives in West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. Well, mostly. When she’s not hard at work writing, she spends her time reading, working out, watching zombie movies, and pretending to write. She shares her home with her husband, his K-9 partner named Diesel, her hyper Jack Russell Loki, and her pet turtle called Michelangelo. Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent her time writing short stories... therefore explaining her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes Adult and Young Adult Urban Fantasy and Romance.
Come find out more about the books of the Covenantseries at: www.ACovenantNovel.com.
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Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer L. Armentrout
Spencer Hill Press
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Contact: Spencer Hill Press, PO Box 247, Contoocook, NH 03229, USA
Please visit our website at www.spencerhillpress.com
First Edition: May 2011.
Armentrout, Jennifer L. 1980
Daimon: The Prequel to Half-Blood : a novella/ by Jennifer L. Armentrout – 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary:
Seventeen-year-old Alexandria isn’t a normal girl. She and her mother have been on the run for years – and what’s looking for them isn’t exactly human.
Song lyrics in this work are a parody of the original song and adhere to the fair use principles of Section 107 of the Copyright Act.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and the copyright and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction: Chewbacca/Star Wars, Clash of the Titans, Count Chocula, Gap, Greenpeace, iPod, Krispy Kreme, MP3, Muppet Baby, Polo, Ren and Stimpy, US Weekly, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, Xena: Warrior Princess.
Cover design by K. Kaynak
ISBN 978-0-9831572-5-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9831572-6-7 (e-book)