by Kant, Komal
Wow. Real subtle.
“Um, yes.” Veritas cleared her throat awkwardly. “Goodbye, Katerina.”
As Tyrone and Veritas began walking away, Tyrone suddenly turned and ran back to me. “Oh, hey, I got you something.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a golden object. “I owed you one.”
Taking it from him, I starting laughing at his thoughtful, yet ridiculous, gesture. It was a corndog.
“Wow, you really care.” I placed a hand over my heart dramatically.
Tyrone ruffled my hair in response before returning to Veritas.
“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” Veritas warned. “He’s had stranger things than a corndog in that pocket.”
With that, the two of them walked away, and I stuck the corndog in my coat pocket. I wasn’t going to eat it—you know, just in case I got food poisoning—but it was the thought that counted. I was gonna miss that guy.
“Um, we have to go that way,” Misha said, pointing somewhere to her left.
“We do?” Anna asked, glancing around in confusion and clearly not taking the hint. “Why?”
“To look at snow!” Misha glared at her and threw her hands up in the air. “Who cares?” She grabbed Anna by the hand and dragged her away.
As they disappeared, my eyes fell on Loire who was studying me with that unreadable expression. I would give ten pennies for his thoughts.
“Come sit with me,” Loire eventually said, ambling over to the edge of the fountain.
My eyes followed his every move, trying to memorize the exact way he walked—he was always so graceful, and you know, he had a nice butt, too.
I sat down beside him, staring at the muscle that was working in his jaw. Clearly, he had a lot on his mind just like I did.
“So, Veritas and Tyrone are the reason you want to use the Mortal Blade to bring balance into the world,” I said finally. “They’re the loved ones you want to protect.”
“Yes.” He nodded, his slate blue eyes finding mine. “They told me you know everything and that you promised to keep their secret. Thank you.”
“I guess I should give this back to you, huh?”
I reached over to my side and pulled the Mortal Blade out from its sheath, reluctantly holding it out for Loire to take. At the same time, I could feel the blade’s magic coursing through me, like it was breathing life into my veins. The last thing I wanted to do was let it go.
He gave me a slow smile and placed his hand on the hilt. “Shit!” he swore, quickly pulling his hand away. There was a burn mark—exactly like the one Valeska had received—where his skin had touched the blade.
Loire quickly reached down and stuck his hand into snow, still cursing. “What the hell?” he said, standing up and shaking his hand.
I stood up too, putting the Mortal Blade back in the sheath as realization hit me. “When truth and lies break all the ties, only will the Mortal Blade choose a new ally.” The final two lines of the prophecy had come true.
Loire stared at me in surprise before releasing a sigh into the cold air as my words registered with him. “So the prophecy was about you this whole time.”
“Yes.” I bit my lip, worried that he’d get mad that the Mortal Blade had chosen me. “I didn’t ask for this; it just happened this way. I had every intention of returning it to you.”
“It’s okay, Kat, I know you did. Neither of us can control fate.” Loire reached out with his uninjured hand and grazed it against my cheek. His hand was warm against my cold skin, and I pressed into it, soaking in his touch. “It was yours all along. This was your fate, not mine. All I can do is be there for you like I said I would.”
“But you’re leaving,” I whispered.
The clawing in my chest was back again, ripping me apart from the inside. Loire had been a steady presence in my life the past two months; it hurt to think about him not being there anymore. I had grown to depend on him.
“I know, but I will come back if you need me. Always.” He lowered his face to mine until our noses were almost touching. He entangled his hand within my long hair. “You’re important to me.” He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.
“You’re important to me, too,” I whispered back.
Maybe I wanted to say more as well, but for now this was enough. It was enough just knowing that I meant something to him.
His eyes searched mine before he pulled me into a kiss that I felt right down to my toes. My head swam, my skin tingled like it was on fire, and every single part of my body felt like it was alive. If I could have Loire’s lips pressed against mine for an eternity it still wouldn’t be long enough.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there for, not wanting to let go—it felt like he was the only thing holding me together right now—but finally Loire broke away. “I don’t want to leave you, but Tyrone and Veritas are probably waiting for me.” He pressed his lips together, his forehead creasing. “And to think that I couldn’t wait to move onto my next assignment when I first had to guard you.”
I punched him lightly on the arm. “Hey, I wasn’t so hot about you either.”
“And now you are,” he said, a smile playing around his mouth. “I can’t blame you; I am pretty hard to resist.”
“Get out of here,” I said with a laugh.
His eyes crinkled. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
I nodded, letting him kiss me one more time before he walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, I sat back down by the edge of the fountain again, letting my thoughts overtake me.
Losing Loire was a shock to my senses, but it was something I would have to overcome. I knew that this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him or his triad.
It was amazing that I’d managed to do what I’d been trying to do from the beginning—prove my innocence and find Headmistress Melkane’s killer. I hadn’t expected my life to take the twists and turns that it had.
Fate may have a path set out for me, but I made my own choices.
Right now, I didn’t know what path the Mortal Blade would take me down or where I would end up. All I knew was that now I was in possession of something that could bring about a change in my world, and I was not going to stop until I made that change a reality.
If I really was descended from the cast out children of Heaven like Delware had said, then Heaven better be prepared because this long-lost daughter was about to come a-knocking on their door. And if they didn’t let me in, there was always a back door.
What could I say? I never did things like a normal, seventeen-year-old should. That just wasn’t my style.
At least everyone could agree on one thing—Katerina Lyrille was consistent.
[Fluffer Nutter]
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I first came up with the idea for Runaway Mortal in early 2011 and was the first story I ever considered publishing. After I wrote it, I decided to put it away and published Impossible as my debut novel instead. Despite releasing Contemporary Romance novels since then, Runaway Mortal always stuck with me and I’m so excited I finally get to share it with my readers.
I can’t thank Michelle Flick enough! She has been supportive of this book from the beginning—long before she ever got to read a single word of it. She has helped so much with the editing process and making this story what it is. I love you, M!
Lots of thanks to Erica Cope who is always super positive and happy to give me feedback whenever I need it. Erica is like my personal cheerleader; she is always encouraging me and making me feel good about everything that I write. I’m so glad to have you as a friend!
Heather Diemer, thank you for your advice, support, and all the fun conversations. We will always be connected through cheesecake.
Thank you to Eden Crane for designing the perfect cover for this book! This is the first cover she ever designed for me, way back in November, 2012, and it is still one of my favourites!
I am so grateful to the readers, authors, and bloggers who continue to read, shar
e, and promote my work. I wouldn’t be doing what I love today without their support. A special shout out to one of my readers, Veronica, who takes out her time to make teasers for my books.
Finally, thanks to my fiancé, Chase, for telling me to publish Runaway Mortal before I started working on anything else. It’s the best decision I ever made and I’m so excited that I finally get to share Katerina’s adventure with everyone!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Komal Kant is the best-selling author of WRONG SIDE OF TOWN. Her other books include IMPOSSIBLE, FALLING FOR HADIE, RUNAWAY MORTAL, and UNFAMILIAR (co-written with Erica Cope). She currently lives in Sydney, but wishes she lived all over the world.
Komal enjoys super geeky things like Pokémon, Call of Duty, and Final Fantasy. She figures she has too many Huskies, but as a result also has lots of Husky kisses. You can often find her swooning over fictional male characters who smirk a lot, superhero-related movies, Ryan Gosling, and her readers.
You can find out more about Komal on her website: http://komalkantbooks.com/
OTHER BOOKS BY KOMAL KANT
With Me Series (Can be read as stand-alone novels)
Impossible
Falling for Hadie
Wrong Side of Town
Stand-alone novels
Unfamiliar
Sneak peek of WALKER by Michelle Flick
Available now on Amazon!
Walker
I stared out into the great, big backyard my sister now owned. It stretched on for acres and nowhere did I see a house or a road cut across the hills. There were bare trees and gray sky. This was where she brought me – the Middle of Nowhere.
Fergie, my collie, brushed up against my legs and looked up at me, smiling at me. Her tail wagged and beat against the porch railing, causing snow to fall from it. She, at least, was happy about this place.
“Want me to throw the ball?”
She turned twice in a circle almost knocking me off balance with her butt.
“She sure isn’t little,” said The–one–who–had–dragged–me to the Middle of Nowhere.
“Lay off my dog.” I didn’t snap at her, but I wasn’t pleasant either. I just couldn’t believe she dragged me here in the middle of my junior year to a place no one in my school had ever heard of. She wasn’t the boss of me, but according to Mom’s and Dad’s will, she was, at least for another year and a half.
“I was just saying. Want to help me unpack the kitchen?”
“No.”
I could see her out of the corner of my eye. She kept her sigh silent, tucked her hair behind her ears, stared out into the great big back yard of the Middle of Nowhere for a moment and turned to go inside. I could have added to my ‘no’ it was because I was going to play with Fergie out back. I could have told her I would help in a bit. I could have been a bit nicer to her. I just couldn’t.
Fergie ran her nose into my leg and I would have expected to see the ball in her mouth, but she was staring up at me with concerned eyes. She sat down and patiently looked at me, waiting for me to tell her what I needed. I could only stare down at her. She repeated her gesture. I leaned down to her, “I know girl. You’re there for me.” I hugged her tightly and told her to get her ball.
I turned toward the kitchen window and saw Jesse watching us. She didn’t smile or frown or wave. She stared back.
We hadn’t always been this way. I mean, she was eight years older than I was. She was good at talking to me about boys when Mom couldn’t. She was really good about being sympathetic to me when Dad wouldn’t see reason about my first boy–girl party when I was 13.
She had a long time boyfriend named Aiden. In fact, they dated for so long, I thought they would marry and I kind of hoped they would. Aiden was a good fit for our family, but they weren’t together any more. I think their break up had more to do with our move to the Middle of Nowhere than my parents’ deaths. She needed out of where she was and I had to go with her. And I know that was my biggest problem with her. I had enough to deal with and now I was being punished for her inability to keep a boyfriend.
Fergie came back with her ball, dropped it at my feet and waited in the snow for me to throw her ball. I launched it as far as I could and she took off. We would be out here for hours if it were up to her. Unlike her, with her thick tri–color coat, I did not withstand the cold as well. But she loved it and I would stay out here until my nose was red.
We went inside to find Jesse still working on unpacking the boxes in the kitchen. Fergie got a drink and plopped down by the floor heater. I untied my boots and watched my sister. She unpacked things that were our mother’s and things that were hers. Between Mom, Dad, her and me, we had more than enough possessions to fill an old, wooden farmhouse. We didn’t need to take it all; we just didn’t want to get rid of anything of theirs. Not yet.
Jesse had been tiptoeing around me for the last two months. She let me stay at my house when we first found out about Mom and Dad and not her apartment. She didn’t bother me with anything when it came to the funerals. She didn’t fight me when I screamed at her that Mom would never want stuffed shells as a meal after the funeral. She didn’t say anything when I told her she was miserable and Mom and Dad were crazy to have left me with her when she told me we were moving. I had been horrible to her since the day they died. I just couldn’t help it.
“I start my first shift tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning, we are going to pick up your schedule for school. And you’ll start the following day.” Her new job, the reason she picked the Middle of Nowhere, or so she said.
“I’m not ready,” I said flatly.
She gave another silent sigh. “You can’t miss school. You can’t fall behind anymore than you already are.”
“You know I wouldn’t even be behind if we hadn’t come to this place.”
She set down the plates she was removing from a packing box. “I’m only thinking it would be best for you to start meeting people, figure out where you stand with your classes and start settling in. If you want to wait another day or two, fine. I’ll go get your schedule tomorrow though.” She picked the plates back up and took them to a cupboard. She stared out into the vast landscape as I had done only a short time before.
I looked at her brown hair, her green eyes, her tall frame, a profile that mirrored a younger version of our mother and an older version of me. It hurt to look at her.
“Come on, Fergie. Let’s go to our room.”
I trudged upstairs, leaving Jesse with the mess of boxes containing our old home. This house would not be my home. I walked into my new bedroom, ignoring the boxes labeled “Kate’s” and flopped myself on my bed. It creaked as I got comfortable, all sounds and sensations I was used to. At least this was something familiar to me. I settled in and fell into a deep sleep.
I awoke sometime later; the sun was still up, but considerably lower. I was spending a lot of time sleeping, but sleep was the only time I didn’t think about my parents, about how much I missed them, about the horrible drunk driving accident stealing them from Jesse and me. When I sleep, I’m blank, devoid of anything. I like it.
Fergie stretched out by my feet, her nails digging into my left calf. She hopped off my bed and patiently waited for me to move. I grumbled I wanted to go back to sleep, but she pressed her wet nose into my arm. I rolled my head away from her. She let out a short bark.
“What, Fergie? I want to sleep.”
She pressed her nose one more time into my arm.
“Out?” I ask.
Nothing.
“Food?”
Her ears perked up.
I reached for my cell phone in my pocket. It was 5 o’clock, time for her to eat. “You’re really going to make me get out of bed?” She moved toward the door. I sighed in defeat. “Alright.”
My stomach, as I stood, let me know that it’s hungry too. I wondered if we even have any food in this house.
Jesse was still in the kitchen. She doesn’t acknowledge me as I poured Fergie’s foo
d in her dish. Jesse slid a ham sandwich and a bunch of chips on the now clear kitchen table towards me.
She must have gone shopping while I was sleeping.
Still she doesn’t acknowledge me, but the sandwich was for me, because she has a half–eaten one on the counter. I sat down and took a bite and munch. The house was so silent the only sound I could hear was Fergie chewing her food.
I think about our home in Canton. It wasn’t as big as this house Jess bought, and it probably seemed smaller because Mom had amassed so much stuff. I’m pretty sure in 22 years, maybe more, Mom had not thrown out any of our artwork, poems, pictures, clay ashtrays and anything else we created. Music always played in the house. I would wake up and had no idea if I was going to be listening to Frank Sinatra, Lenny Kravitz, The Who or Reba McEntire. She burned candles constantly.
I looked at the walls in the kitchen. I missed the atmosphere of our old house.
“We’ll fill them up, slowly, but we will fill them.”
“I don’t want to put all that stuff up again.”
“Me either,” Jess replied. “I was thinking about putting up some of Mom’s artwork, some of my photography and some of your sketches.”
“I don’t sketch anymore.”
Our mother had an amazing talent when it came to painting. Her abstract pictures always seemed like crazy dream landscapes. Mom always said she got them from her dreams. She and a friend had opened a small art gallery only featuring local artists. Mom had put several of my sketches and a bunch of Jesse’s pictures up. The store was really beginning to take off, along with Mom’s notoriety, when the accident happened.
“OK, well, if you ever do, I’ll add them to the walls too.”
She turned back around and I could tell she was frustrated by my comment. She cracked her neck and flexed her fingers. There was a time Jesse would not be silent for any reason. She has an opinion about everything and was unafraid to share it, very much like our father. But since their deaths, when I say something like not sketching anymore, when I secretly love it, she just makes some round–about comment about how she patient she is. She’s different.