The Killing Season
“I turned toward the sound of my name, which was no more than a hoarse croak. Luke, pale and drawn, half limped, half ran down the hallway, cocking a gun as he went. He slipped an extra clip into the back pocket of his jeans. The denim—without their top button closed—hung low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair beneath his navel and the tight taper of his abs. Even with the shit storm happening around me, I couldn’t help but scowl; Eve was going to love that look on him.
“Get her in here...,” Luke commanded, his voice clearer now. He swung open a bedroom door closest to us and grabbed his mother’s slim arm. I followed them inside after checking the hall one last time, my eyes lingering on the stairs. Sin laid just down in the entry without his head.
And Abigail was covered in his blood.
Luke closed the door and locked us inside the room, as if it would do any good against a ’swang attack. “Take this,” he said, offering me his gun. “I’ll get one from someone else.MoreLess
“Get her in here...,” Luke commanded, his voice clearer now. He swung open a bedroom door closest to us and grabbed his mother’s slim arm. I followed them inside after checking the hall one last time, my eyes lingering on the stairs. Sin laid just down in the entry without his head.
And Abigail was covered in his blood.
Luke closed the door and locked us inside the room, as if it would do any good against a ’swang attack. “Take this,” he said, offering me his gun. “I’ll get one from someone else.MoreLess
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