Chains of Frost: The Bellum Sisters 1 by T. A. Grey, Regina Wamba Read Free Book Online Page A

where she was now. Yet that presence was
still behind her.
    She’d discreetly checked the
train cars around her, eyeing people in the seats but saw no one taking
particular notice of her. Either she was paranoid, which considering her nerves
right now, was a definite possibility, or he was already here. But how could
that be?
    Was the Alpha, Lyonis Keelan,
here? Tracking her like a runaway pup or, in this case, his runaway woman? Her
hands tightened around the backpack straps over her shoulders. She barely
resisted the urge to turn around and scream I’ll never be your woman, beast!
    She was a grown woman living in
the year 2011. This was not the dark ages. These were not like the old times that
many succubi still lived by. Her life did not belong to a man; she would never
be owned by a man. She’d rather die first than lose herself. Lyonis Keelan
would have to find his mate elsewhere.
    Finally giving in to the
temptation, she darted a glance behind her. Early morning light crept in
through the windows of the train station, lighting the place up in a happy
orange glow that did nothing to improve her mood. People bustled about, getting
on and off trains with luggage and backpacks. The smell of freshly brewed
coffee and the bitter tinge of cigarette smoke floated by her nostrils.
    She saw no man following her.
What did the Alpha of all shapeshifters look like anyway? She had no clue. Big,
skinny, tall, short. It could be anyone and no one. The chances of him somehow
finding her were incredibly small, yet that nagging feeling wouldn’t leave the
back of her neck. It had her constantly searching faces, always wanting to
glance back. Logic told her he had no idea she’d gone to London or was now
wandering around in Spain.
    She couldn’t stay in any place
for too long. From here on out she was going on foot. Hiking, walking, and
maybe catching a few rides here and there.
    Willow stepped out into the fresh
morning light, bought a map from a vendor, and started out. She headed east.
Anywhere in the middle of Europe would be good.
    The further she got from the
train station, though, the more she realized someone had to be following her.
If anything, that feeling of being watched was now worse, closer, and more intense.
Her frustration peaked like a boiling thermometer.
    Spinning in a circle, she threw
open her arms and said, “Come out and talk to me, you fucking coward!”
    Trumpets did not sing to announce
some grand arrival. A red carpet was not unraveled. What did happen was that a
woman with dark hair opened a window and spoke in quick, angry Spanish at her.
    Mumbling an apology, Willow
tucked her head back down and started down the street. The more distance she covered,
and quickly, the better. As she reached the end of the street, she felt a
change in the air. A stirring in the wind rustled leaves off the street and
blew a hanging sign over a bakery. And just like that, Willow’s gaze landed on
a man leaning casually against the wall of a bookshop. He looked like he was
ready to be in a Marlboro commercial, minus the cowboy getup.
    Willow blinked and tried to get
her mind to work. He hadn’t been there a moment before, right? She thought hard
and fast, which was a struggle because she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. This
man looked simply perfect, distracting as hell. She was certain he also hadn’t
been standing there just a moment ago. He looked casual with his booted foot
resting against the wall, his arms crossed loosely.
    Only twice in her life had she
felt the urge to turn and run. Once was yesterday in the cemetery when she and
her sisters summoned a zombie, and the other was right this very second. Sweat
beaded on her brow and neck and had nothing to do with the warm temperature.
    The man watched her with a
predatory awareness that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. His hair
bordered on being a few inches too long; as if he just hadn’t bothered having
it cut in a while. His eyes were dark brown,