Free Chasing Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) by Christina Moore Page A

supernatural world? Would he be pursued relentlessly because of the narcotic properties of his blood?
    An almost hysterical giggle escaped me as I suddenly realized that I had the premise for my next book right in front of me.
     
    *****
     
    It felt like I had just fallen asleep when my alarm woke me the next morning. With a groan, I rose and went into the bathroom, took care of my personal business, and rinsed my sticky mouth out. Moe and Cissy were already dancing around my feet wanting to be fed.
    “Alright you monsters, give me a couple minutes,” I said, smiling down at them. I ran my brush through my hair vigorously and dressed quickly, then followed the tiny dogs down the stairs and into the kitchen. I filled the water dish with fresh water and poured half a scoop of dry food into the other bowl—they would get more outside. I then pulled the bottle of pig’s blood out of the fridge and poured the last of its contents into a mug, throwing that into the microwave to heat. I had to hurry and get my fill of blood before Mark came knocking on the door; I’d told him last night that he could come back for breakfast before we began work, and he would be here soon. I didn’t think it would sit too well with him if he caught me drinking blood before I could explain to him precisely why I did.
    That got me wondering, as I had almost from the moment we met, whether or not Mark would be able to accept the truth. Would he laugh it off as a joke? Would he think I was crazy? And not only the truth about me, I amended silently, but the truth about himself— would he accept that? How could I get him to believe he was an immortal human without proof?
    As if I had called him with my thoughts, there was a knock at the door. I downed the last swallow of blood and rinsed the cup quickly, then walked over to the door to let him in. He smiled when I opened the door, and I could not help but smile in return.
    “Morning, Boss,” he said lightly.
    I chuckled. “Good morning, Mark,” I said, standing aside so he could enter. Angel the dog filed in silently behind him, though she looked up and gave me the barest hint of a nod.
    “Good morning to you too, Angel,” I said, reaching down to scratch the Siberian between the ears as Moe and Cissy bounded over, barking at her and demanding her attention. The shifter trotted off into the living room to play with the two smaller dogs.
    “I am so glad they get along,” Mark mused, watching the three dogs from the arched doorway to the living room.
    “Me too,” I agreed, then bent and retrieved the griddle from its place in a lower cabinet. “Pancakes okay for breakfast?”
    He turned back to me. “Sure thing. Do I need to help?”
    His tone was teasing so I laughed. “Not this time, but if you’d like to, you can get the plates and silverware and put them on the table. Do you remember where they are?”
    Mark nodded and moved to gather the items as I reached for a mixing bowl and then got the box of pancake mix out of the pantry. Once again we exchanged light banter as we worked, and I couldn’t help feeling a little euphoric—this was exactly the kind of scene I had often dreamed of, although in the last two hundred years, such a scene often ended with us abandoning the food for other more delightful pursuits. I found myself almost laughing out loud as I tried to push the image of Mark backing me against the dining table, our mouths fused together in the heat of passion, out of my mind.
    I didn’t realize he’d been watching me. “Did I do something funny?” he asked.
    I felt heat rise in my cheeks as I switched off the stove and we carried our plates over to the table. “No. It’s nothing,” I said dismissively, then turned back to the refrigerator for the orange juice.
    I enjoyed having breakfast with Mark, and couldn’t help longing for the time—hopefully soon—when we’d be doing this every day. I filled him in again on how the day would go, and said that after the