Free Your Lycan or Mine? (Broken Heart Book 14) by Michele Bardsley Page A

for the terrier. If he barked, he might wake Mom and Dad.
    The sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted from the vines entwining the metal fence. She leaned down and tugged off a yellow blossom. Gently she pinched the stamen and withdrew it, licking away the pearl of nectar on its end.
    Her mother had taught her how to do that.
    Guilt crimped her stomach. She looked at the desecrated flower and wished she hadn’t plucked it, hadn’t stolen its honey. The yellow petals were already browning and curling inward. Sighing, she tossed it to the ground.
    She unlatched the gate. As she pushed it open, the hinges squealed loudly. Crap! She stepped inside the backyard. Heart pounding, she stood still and listened for the rumbling yell of her father or the tapping of her mother’s slippered foot on the back porch.
    Wait a minute. When she’d crept out of her bedroom window a few hours ago, the front and back porch lights had been on. She hadn’t even noticed the lack of illumination until now, a sure sign of her guilt. Or maybe it was that she’d always been able to see well in the dark. Her dad teased her about this quirk, calling her “cat eyes.” It didn’t help that her eye color hovered between gray and blue.
    She pressed a palm against her warbling belly and studied the shadowy exterior of the house. It was a simple, one-story, three-bedroom house. It looked liked the others in the neighborhood. Normal. Plain. Boring.
    Her gaze drifted away from the house and up to the sky. The full moon stared at her like the round eye of God. She felt that awful judgment of a deity she didn’t know. Her parents were scientists, pragmatic to their very cores. They said that religion was for the superstitious and the weak-minded. But secretly, she believed that there was something, maybe someone, all-knowing and intelligent watching over the Earth. Watching over her. Judging her.
    Sighing deeply, she trudged toward her bedroom window. Her room was in the back, just off the kitchen. Her parents slept in the bedroom in front of the house. Nerves jumping, she put her hand on the windowsill. The curtain blocked her view.
    Oh, c’mon. If her parents weren’t such stick-in-the-mud jerks, she wouldn’t have had to sneak out to go to Rick’s party.
    Her face warmed. Rick Huntson was so nice. He had the bluest eyes and the cutest dimpled chin. Tonight, he’d almost kissed her. Just remembering the close call in the kitchen, when he’d gotten her the second beer and leaned toward her, his eyes dipping to her mouth, made her feel all tingly and wonderful.
    But his lips hadn’t brushed hers. Instead, he said that he liked her T-shirt, which was blue and said “Baby Doll” in a glittery scroll across her chest. Her jean shorts were faded and tight. She’d given herself a pedicure—her toenails were sparkly blue—and wore black flip-flops.
    Now, she felt unprotected in the summer clothing, as if she needed armor and shield to face what lay ahead. Even though it was nearly May, the air felt chilly. Her flesh goosepimpled and she rubbed her bare arms.
    The window slid open easily. Tashie pushed aside the curtain and peered inside. She saw the familiar shapes of her bedroom: the twin bed with its fake occupant; the desk with its pile of books and papers; the listing floor lamp; and the boom box pushed against the closet door.
    Nothing looked disturbed. Grinning with relief, she climbed inside and shut the window. She tossed off her flip-flops and thought about how to retrieve Jack. She wanted the companionship tonight. He was probably tucked into her parent’s room, snoring away.
    Quickly, she went into her private bathroom and rubbed off her make-up then she put on her pajamas. At least if her parents woke-up, she’d look as if she’d been tucked into bed all night.
    When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the kitchen, her skin prickled. The house was eerily quiet and too dark.
    Something felt … wrong.
    Think it through, Tashie. Fear