Read Dead Of Winter (The Beautiful Dead Book 2) for Free Online Page A

already know. Hel and I already assumed. I can’t ask what they named the baby because anything I ask feels like I’m intruding somewhere that I will never, ever belong … the world of the Living.
    Not that John’s shown me much kindness at all, either. The one Human with which I thought I could share everything … I thought he’d understand, but at the end of the day, with all the Humans here now in Trenton, I know where his true loyalty lies, and it is certainly not with a dead girl in a creaky little house.
    I’m not sure I can stay here much longer. I have Brains to deal with. Oh, if I had a nickel.
    I get up from the table, deciding to go to the sink. I can wash my hands six or seven more times, they won’t feel any more clean, not after what I’ve done.
    “Winter.”
    I stop halfway past the kitchenette, turn to look back at him. He’s still watching me. His brown eyes show fiercely, even from across the room.
    After a very long pause, I respond. “Yes, John?”
    “I’m alive because of you.”
    I press my lips together. I’m not sure what his angle is, what he’s getting at. Even the way he says it, it sounds half an accusation. As though my helping him to survive were yet another bad thing I’ve done. Shame on me.
    “Okay,” I say back curtly, needing to hear where he’s going with this.
    He looks away. I can tell he’s troubled. What he faced in there … Gill losing his mind and attacking anyone in sight … Even from across the room, I can see the bruise forming on John’s nose where Gill’s elbow unkindly bashed him.
    I can’t stand waiting for him to speak. “Is there … something I’m supposed to be saying?” I know I sound less kind than I ought to be, considering what he’s gone through, but the hurt feelings he’s put into me are starting to stubbornly scratch their way to the surface.
    His face is pale and stern, his eyes not able to rest on anything in the room. “There are demons in me, Winter.”
    Leaning against the counter, I wait for more.
    “Demons. Bad, bad demons that I can’t get rid of.” He crosses the room, which is startling because he’s suddenly very close to me. Next to the table now, he starts picking at the wood, pensive, staring down at it. “They don’t let me sleep. They’ve made me … awful.”
    Is this an apology? “We all have demons .”
    “But yours are a lifetime ago. Literally.” He chuckles without a smile, empty and feeble. “Winter, what I’m trying to say is …” He looks up finally. The effect his eyes have when they burrow into mine is staggering. Those Living earthen orbs of light in his face, they smolder. John and his wet, totally-alive, tear-capable eyes.
    “Yeah?” I encourage him.
    He takes another step closer to me. I resist an urge to back away, resist another urge to press into his solid, inviting body. “Please don’t mistake my demons for hate. Winter, you’ve shown me so much care … You’ve given me a home … You risked everything. I’ll never be able to repay you, ever. In ten lifetimes. I don’t hate you.”
    So many words are caught in my throat suddenly. The only one that escapes is: “Okay.”
    “Okay,” he agrees.
    I could almost trick myself into believing that I feel the warmth of his body. That I feel the racing of my own heart. That my knees are noodles in his presence.
    “I don’t hate you,” he repeats. “I … I don’t hate you at all. You’re … you’re not a bad roommate. You’re actually very …” John looks down at his feet, his face scrunched up. He rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
    I hang on his words. I want him to say something else. I want him to keep talking. I want to hear more. “Yeah, it has,” I agree. “What am I, John? You were about to say—”
    “You’re very—I don’t know. You’re very kind.” He meets my gaze again.
    Kind. I’m very … kind .
    “Thank you,” I reply.
    “I should, um—” He keeps rubbing his eyes, gives