by Shelly Crane
Bridgette pushed her way through the crowd and hugged me like we were sisters. Her Devourer came forward, too. They weren't bonded, just mated, and you could tell that he wasn't as sweet and loving as Eli was with me, but he wasn't a jerk like the rest of the Devourers either.
I watched as the Devourer with Eli kept looking back at Bridgette. It wasn't love, it was more like possession, but it was more than just being a mate, too. Interesting.
Eli talked to him while Bridgette filled me in on everything that had happened in the past few weeks, and even started on some camp gossip.
Wow. I was pretty lucky. I had two families now.
Later that night as we ate bowls of soup around a large fire, I looked forward to what was to come; with the rebel camp, with my parents who were safe in Montana since the Horde knew we left, with Eli…
I gripped his fingers as his hand was already wrapped around mine. He looked at me from speaking to someone and I smiled. He looked serious as he said, "Come with me for a minute." He pulled me up from the bench and took me to a little alcove of trees.
I was confused. "Eli, what-"
His lips stopped everything. He put his hand on my cheek and leaned back just enough for him to murmur against my lips, "I love you, Clara."
Even though he gripped my thigh as he pressed me to the tree, pulling my leg up and kissing my lips with fervor as he groaned, I knew I was safe.
In every way.
~ ~ ~
I didn't think I would be one of those fidgeting girls. It was the thought of being in front of all of those people more than the thought of what I was doing. Mrs. Ruth fussed with my hair and I swatted her hand away gently and smiled at her. "You're more nervous than me. Come on, deep breaths."
She sighed and looked around the corner. "Eli has an…extensive family," she said, trying to sound polite. I held in my giggle, just barely, at knowing exactly what and who was out there.
I was barefoot with a plain white slip dress. Mrs. Ruth's pearl earrings hung from my ears and a bouquet Ariel had made from honeysuckle sat in my fidgeting fingers. I was itching with anticipation to peek around and see Eli. We'd said low-key. The guest were wearing casual. It was outside in the park and it couldn't have been a more beautiful day. I glanced up and looked around me, taking deep breaths.
There was a cloud rabbit above me and it seemed to seam the threads of our fates together even as this day was doing just that. I smiled.
"What?" Mrs. Ruth said and looked up. "Is there a bird's nest? They'll poop on your dress!"
"No," I laughed and gripped her hand. "It's nothing."
Then we heard the music. As if my eyes had been waiting for that one note to sound, they filled with happy tears. This was it. As Patrick's guitar strummed an acoustic version of Red's "You Are Not Alone", and his tenor carried the words through the park, Mrs. Ruth wound her arm through mine and we turned the stone wall corner. The rebel camp was there, every single one of them. The church congregation was there, too.
It had been a short engagement. Two weeks after graduation, we could wait no longer and caved. We spilled our plans to Pastor and Mrs. Ruth, who both seemed not-so-surprised by the news. They arranged a very low-key and simple wedding, which was what I wanted more than anything, and four weeks later there we were. All of our family was there, no bridesmaids to fuss with, no grooms to buy tuxes for, no seating charts, no caviar or photographers or coordinators. Just us and our family as they watched us say that we would love each other forever, however long that may be.
I had been worried about the Horde since we learned that they reformed. I wanted to do the Justice of the Peace thing, but Franz was having none of that. He insisted on a wedding where my family could come and that with the whole rebel camp there, there was no way the Horde would make a move. Eli had taken the opportunity to remove all of his funds from the banks as well. He had it stashed in all sorts of places with all sorts of people, but at least it was available to us, and the rebels, and wasn't traceable.
Franz smiled and winked at me as I passed him. Bridgette grinned and wiggled her fingers at me. Ariel bounced on her toes in excitement. I could wait no longer and lifted my gaze to Eli.
His mouth was slightly open as he watched me come towards him. He was wearing khakis and a white button up…along with Enoch. I gasped as I saw him and looked at Eli questionably. He shrugged and smiled. I swung my gaze back to Enoch. He rolled his eyes and huffed in that way that was becoming so familiar. I smiled at him. He would never be like Eli, and probably would never even like me, but he was trying. For his brother. What more could I ask of him?
We arrived and Mrs. Ruth gave me over to Eli's awaiting hand. Pastor was watching me and twisting his lips, trying to hold back tears. I looked away so I wouldn't burst myself. But then I looked at Eli and it seriously didn't help. He tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled that smile. The smile that had me hooked from the moment he walked into my town.
"Ready, Mrs. Thames?" he said happily, his grin infectious and breathtaking.
"Oh, yes," I breathed and laughed a little when he wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Very much ready."
Within minutes Eli was mine.
He was what my mom would have wanted me to find. He was a creature put on earth to manipulate and hurt, and instead had taught me to really love and feel again. Though I had bound us physically with the string, he had reached into my soul and bound us together long before that.
Eli was the love of my one lifetime and I was now the love of his. The future was uncertain and shaky and foggy, and filled with love that I couldn't wait to explore.
And we were just getting started.
The Very End
Oh, the thank yous could go on for miles. First off, thank you to my God and my family. To the readers who have picked up this book and my others as well, you are the reason I do this. It’s been SO much fun getting to know all different kinds of people from all over the world who have read something of mine. It’s humbling in every sense of the word and I thank you for allowing me to be a little piece of your world. You guys are the best and I love to hear from you! You rock!
Shelly's other series that are available
The Significance Series
The Collide Series
The Stealing Grace Series
Smash Into You
Be sure to find and follow Shelly on these avenues for updates and information regarding upcoming books and sneak peeks.
www.facebook.com/shellycranefanpage
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Playlist
Paradise : Coldplay
Philadelphia : Parachute
Sweet Resistance : Civil Twilight
Hostage : Jack's Mannequin
Absolutely Still : Better Than Ezra
Run For Your Life : The Fray
Green Eyes : Coldplay
Truth : Jason Reeves
My Stupid Mouth : John Mayer
I Can Barely Say : The Fray
Everything :Tyler Ward
Homesick : Sleeping At Last
Ghost In Love : Mikey Wax
Fidelity :Regina Spektor
Restless Dream : Jack's Mannequin
Coming Up Strong : Karmin
You Are Not Alone : Red
Now please enjoy an exclusive excerpt from Amy Bartol's novel, Inescapable.
CHAPTER 1
MOVING DAY
As I drive past the placid façade of Crestwood College’s stately clock tower, I realize that this is the building they refer to as Central Hall. It’s the trademark of the school, and they stamp its image on everything they use to represent them. My acceptance letter had been embossed with its seal. The scent of autumn drifts through my open window along with the deep, echoing bell from the clock as it tolls out the hour. The loud, desolate sound sends a chill over my skin. It is funny to me how something as harmless as a clock tower can be winsome and sinister at the same time.
In the car behind me, my Uncle Jim gives me a couple of short honks of his horn. As I gaze at him in my rearview mirror, I see him gesturing for me to turn left at the next stop sign. His paranoia that I will miss the street to my dorm makes me smile, so I turn on my signal to relieve his anxiety. Crestwood’s campus has only a few streets; if I miss the turn, it won’t be fatal. If I manage to get lost here, then I don’t deserve the academic scholarship they gave me, I think to myself, using my mirror to refresh my lip-gloss.
I ride slowly under the tunneling oak trees that line the pavement. I had always thought that I would go to a larger school—one in a major city, like New York or Chicago, but when Crestwood offered me a full ride with no strings attached, I couldn’t pass up such an amazing opportunity. I mean, who needs a sprawling city if you’re totally broke all the time? And Crestwood is consistently ranked as one of the top private schools in the country for academics. Plus, this way I get to stay in Michigan so I can visit Uncle Jim more often. He’ll only be a few hours away—and he needs me. I’m his only family, just as he is mine.
Unease creeps over me as my dormitory comes into view. I don’t know a single person at Yeats Hall, or even Crestwood for that matter. I had met a few coeds on my brief tour of the school last year, but I had been just a prospective student then, so none of us really bothered to make friends. A fresh wave of panic hits me, or maybe it’s remorse for all the familiar things I’m leaving behind. Don’t stress, I tell myself while taking a deep breath. This place will be the making of you. Everything will be fine.
I park in a spot under a shady elm tree and cut the engine, waiting for my uncle to slip into the spot next to mine. Pulling up next to me, he parks his truck and leaves it idling. With his stereo blaring Baba O’Reily, he is head-banging and playing air guitar to the raging bass.
Normally, something like this would horrify me, especially since he is drawing frowns from the other parents hauling boxes and desk lamps out of their cars, but not today. Today, I’m trying to take a mental snapshot of this moment because it’s so quintessential Uncle Jim.
We had basically raised each other, he and I. When my mom died soon after I was born, he stepped up and assumed guardianship of me. It couldn’t have been easy; he’d been a kid himself at the time, only twenty years old.
As my eyes rove over him, lip-syncing with his mouth curling in a rocker-like scowl, I smile, knowing he is doing it for me. He is trying to make me laugh so that I won’t be nervous.
As I climb out of my old Jeep, I pretend not to notice when small pieces of the rusted door flake off as I close it. “You rock a mean air guitar,” I say after he cuts his engine and grins at me through the truck’s open window.
“I know—missed my calling. I was born to rock,” he replies with hubris, climbing out and joining me.
“Undoubtedly,” I agree. He slips his arm around my shoulder, trapping my long, auburn hair beneath it as he gives me a quick squeeze before letting it drop.
“You ready to check in?” he asks me as he runs his hands through his dark-brown hair, which immediately falls back over his forehead again.
“Yeah,” I nod, handing him a comb from my purse.
He smiles, taking the comb from me. “You know what I like most about you, Evie?” he asks me.
My eyebrow arches. “Umm, I’m not sweaty?” I ask.
His grin deepens, reaching his gray eyes as he shakes his head. “Well, that, and the fact that you think of everything. It makes me worry less about you because I know that you’ll cover every angle before you attack a problem,” he answers.
I give him a furtive glance as I retort, “You know what I like most about you?”
“My musicality?” he asks with a straight face.
I grin because we both know he is completely tone-deaf. “Well, that,” I agree, “and the fact that you always manage to say just the right thing.”
“You liked that?” he asks me while we walk up the sloping sidewalk to the entrance of my new residence. “Good, because I practiced it in the car all the way here.”
“It sounded very parental,” I compliment him as he holds the door for me to enter.
“That’s what I was going for,” he acknowledges, approaching the wide mahogany table in the lobby.
“Evie Claremont,” I say to the perky brunette seated in a wing-backed chair behind the table.
She scans the roster before looking up and asking, “Genevieve Claremont?”
“That’s me,” I breathe nervously, “but everyone just calls me Evie.”
She glances from me to my uncle, and her smile becomes toothy. My Uncle Jim and I both pretend not to notice when she begins flirting with him: me because I'm uncomfortable and him because he's not into females my age. Anyway, I’m used to it—it happens often; I think that every one of my female friends was in love with my uncle at one point or another.
As she begins outlining all of the upcoming dorm activities for him, I take the time to gaze around at the old building. I know that it was once a home to a wealthy Crestwood family, but they had donated it to the school around the turn of the previous century. The interior is elegant, with ice blue, silken wall-coverings, crown molding, rich deep-brown wainscoting, and leaded-glass windows.
Uncle Jim nudges me before handing me my new keys and motioning with his chin toward the stairs.
“She was friendly,” I tease him as we climb up to the second floor.
He nods his head and feigns ignorance, muttering, “Very nice.”
Locating my room, we open it, and I set my purse down on the low table by the door as I enter. The room comes fully furnished with a single bed, a desk, a dresser, a bedside table, and a small lamp. A bathroom-style sink and a closet are the only other appointments to it.
“Home,” Uncle Jim says with a sanguine glance at me. He must be reading the dark excursion my mind is taking because he adds hurriedly, “Don’t worry; when we get your stuff in here, it won’t feel as strange.”
“I’m not worried,” I say, flashing him a faux grin.
“C’mon,” he says, putting his arm around me and tugging me to the door. “Let’s go get your stuff.”
We get to work unloading my swag from his truck. After bringing a few boxes up several flights of stairs, I stay in my room and begin unpacking them. “Where do you want me to put this box?” my Uncle Jim asks me, breathing heavily and staggering through the doorway.
Narrowing my eyes, I murmur, “Umm, let me think,” while looking for available space on the floor. “What’s in it?” I ask, sifting through the box in front of me.
He grunts before saying, “Judging by the weight, I’d say it has to be either your ex-boyfriend’s dead remains or…books.” Pressing the front of the box against the wall, he tries to keep from dropping it.
“Ah, it must be books—all of my exes are buried in the backyard at home, so pleasant dreams when you get there tonight,” I reply with a smirk, putting my alarm clock on the nightstand near my bed. “You can just set it down by the desk, thanks.” Shuffling across the room, he heaves the box down with a loud thump.
“I was wondering what happened to the last one. The one that took you to the movies…” he replies. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his Ramones t-shirt. Poor Dee Dee Ramone on the front of it looks a little soaked.
Giving him an ironic smile I shrug, “His name was Greg, and like I said…backyard.”
“Good, I never liked him,” he says with the same kind of smile. “Do you want help unpacking these?” he asks, indicating the boxes strewn around the room.
“I’m not sure where I’m going to put everything yet. Maybe I should just do it myself,” I say almost as a question.
“I’ll set up the Internet connection so you can send email and surf,” Uncle Jim says as he finds my laptop and places it on my desk.
“Thanks. I register for classes tomorrow, so I’ll email you—let you know how that goes,” I promise.
He byp
asses the dormitory’s LAN and gives me my own Internet access and firewall so that I can maintain my privacy. I can probably do it myself because he taught me how, but I’m grateful that he is taking care of it.
Finishing the set-up, he turns his grayish-blue eyes to me, smiling in triumph. I think my mother also had the same color eyes as her brother and I do, but I have to rely on old, grainy photos of her in order to see them. As for the rest of my physical characteristics, like my auburn hair and my tall, slender frame, they could’ve come from my father’s side of the family, but since neither of us knows who he is, it makes proving that theory slightly difficult.
Uncle Jim loses some of his smile as he looks around and sees there isn’t much left for him to do now. “So, you have your cell phone,” he states as if going over a parental checklist in his head. “If you need anything, you can call me. Do you need any money?”
“You already gave me money,” I say, seeing him reach into his pocket for his wallet. I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “I have more than enough money for all of the beer and drugs I plan on experimenting with,” I tease him gently. “When I blow it all on Internet gambling, I’ll call you.”
