Read Forbidden, Tempted Series (Book 1) for Free Online Page B

“So I never realized it was weird or different until later. When others told me.”
    Janet’s grin was huge. “I so wanna see that.”
    “Oh, well. It’s been... a while. I’m probably pretty rusty now.” Though not as rusty as her father might think. Flint hadn’t given up the arts completely; she just didn’t want to do it in front of a thousand eyes anymore.
    Janet cocked her head, a look of concentration on her face. Frowning, Flint tried to listen, hearing nothing but the eerie hum of the generators.
    “Rhi’s calling for me. I’ll be back—you stay here. I wanna see you walk, ’kay?”
    Flint frowned. She hadn’t heard a sound or a word. Janet bounded down the steps, running through the ring and then exiting through the curtained tunnel.
    Drumming her fingers on her leg, she stared at the cable rigging fifty feet above her head. She had done lots of tumbling at her last high school, but she hadn’t walked in forever. What if she couldn’t do it anymore?
    Twitchy, overcome with the queasy anticipation of walking, she stood. It really wasn’t safe to walk without a harness. But she’d gotten so good at it at one point that she’d stopped needing one. Glancing around, she looked to see if anyone was coming. No surprise that she didn’t hear another soul around.
    Ignoring her better judgment, eager to feel that thrill again, she walked quickly down to the tower, easily maneuvering her way up to the small platform, proud that her body didn’t tremble or shake with nerves.
    There was a net beneath. It looked like braided rope, not something she cared to fall into. It could scrape the skin right off her body, especially if she landed wrong. Which meant she had to do this without falling.
    The worst part of walking was the nerves. If she let herself think she was too high, she’d fall. And she’d be lucky if all she did was get a giant bruise on her thigh and butt. Lots of walkers had suffered broken legs, backs, some—like her mom—had even died.
    The sport was dangerous, but it was in the blood—a lure that drew the chosen few in like a moths to flame. Was that why she’d worn her walking slippers today? Hoping, maybe, she’d get a chance to walk the rope again?
    Flexing her thighs, she slapped them, getting the blood to circulate. The sting of opening her blood vessels only heightened her tension, her desire to do it.
    Testing the tensile strength of the rope with her foot, she sighed with relief as she felt it give just slightly. It was perfectly balanced. She didn’t have a balance bar, but she’d been training before Mom’s accident to learn to walk without it.
    Her mom had told her once that her skills were superhuman, beyond amazing, which had only made Flint push harder. This had been her passion once too.
    The first step was always the hardest. Finding that perfect balance between life and death, upright or falling.
    Her calves shook as her toes gripped the black cording. Sweat dotted her brows. Flint threw her arms out to the side and slowly, inch by terrible inch, settled more and more of her weight on the rope. It shook for a moment, making her tighten her abs in response as she went perfectly still and breathed through the first initial step.
    When she settled and the rope stopped swaying, she took the next step. Leaving the platform and getting back on the platform, that was the most dangerous part of the entire stunt. That was where a walker lived or died.
    The rope shook harder and her heart stuttered, beating wildly in her chest. Forcing herself to reason through the panic that was trying to claw up her throat with desperate fingers, she waited until the wave of vertigo passed before lifting her back foot and stepping forward again.
    Somewhere between the fourth and sixth step she found her rhythm. Smiling, she increased her pace just a little. Not jogging, definitely not running, but moving at a brisker stride.
    Exhilaration pulsed through her blood like a drug, bringing back