Free Jennifer Estep Bundle by Jennifer Estep

way to sleeping with most, if not all, of the hottest girls at Mythos. Supposedly, he signed the mattresses of the girls that he scored with just to keep track of all of them. Something that the other guys had taken to doing, although not with as much success as Logan. Except maybe in Morgan McDougall’s room.
    Logan Quinn was also descended from a long line of Spartans. Yeah, those Spartans, the warriors who held off thousands of bad guys before most of them kicked it at the ancient battle of Thermopylae. All of which had been brought to life by Gerard Butler and his chiseled man abs in 300. Professor Metis had let us watch the movie in class three weeks ago, before she proceeded to lecture us about the historical importance of the battle. But Gerard’s abs had been impressive enough for me to daydream about them and tune out Metis.
    There were only a handful of Spartans here at Mythos, but all the other students tread carefully around them. Even the richest, snobbiest kid knew better than to piss off a Spartan. At least, to his face anyway. That’s because Spartans were hands-down the best fighters at the academy. Spartans were born warriors. That’s all they knew how to do, and that’s all they ever did.
    Unlike the other kids, Logan Quinn didn’t carry a weapon with him. Neither did the rest of the Spartans I’d seen. They didn’t need to. One of the things that Spartans were known for was their ability to pick up any weapon—or any thing —and automatically know how to use and even kill someone with it. Seriously. Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.
    Sometimes, I didn’t know if I really believed all the crazy stuff around me. Like Spartans and Valkyries and Reapers. Sometimes, I wondered if I was stuck in an insane asylum somewhere, just dreaming all this. Like Buffy. But if that was the case, you’d think that I would be having a better time, that I’d at least imagine myself to be one of the popular Valkyrie princesses or something—
    Logan reached for one of the Wonder Woman comics that had been in my bag. The motion snapped me out of my daze.
    â€œGive me that!”
    I snatched the comic book up off the grass. I didn’t want Logan Quinn contaminating my things with his scary, Spartan, psycho-killer vibes, which could happen if he touched them. That’s how objects got emotions attached to them in the first place—by people touching and handling and using them over time. I stuffed the Wonder Woman issue deep into my bag, along with all the others and the empty cookie tin, which was shaped like the chocolate-chip treats it had once held.
    Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything at my obvious freak-out.
    â€œSorry I ran into you,” I muttered again, getting to my feet. “Don’t kill me, okay?”
    Logan also stood, and this time his mouth lifted up into something that almost looked like a smile. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Gypsy girls make for awful easy killing. Wouldn’t take but just a second.”
    His voice was deeper than I’d thought it would be, with a rich, throaty timbre. Startled, I looked up and stared into his face—and spotted the amusement sparkling in his icy gaze.
    My own eyes narrowed. I didn’t like being made fun of, not even by a dangerous bad boy like Logan Quinn. “Yeah, well, this Gypsy girl happens to have a grandma who can curse you so bad that your dick will turn black and fall off, so watch your step, Spartan.”
    That wasn’t true, of course. My Grandma Frost saw the future. She didn’t curse people—at least, not that I knew of. It was hard to tell with Grandma sometimes. But there was no reason for Logan Quinn to know that I was bluffing.
    Instead of being intimidated, his mouth made that smiling motion again. “I think I’d rather watch you walk away, Gypsy girl.”
    I