Read Going Thru Hell for Free Online

in these times.”
    I detected a faint accent. “I can out eat a frat boy after football practice.”
    He chuckled, the smile transforming his face. In the hours since he’d invaded my personal space, I noticed his angular face, masculine with hints of ruthlessness. A good, strong jawline, aquiline nose, classic Nordic features, combined with his shoulder length hair, made him lovely to look upon. Add in the smile, softening the unforgiving lines of his features, made him approachable and edible eye candy.
    I swallowed hard, not sure what to say.
    A little more clearheaded than the night before, I asked. “Why were you looking for me? You’re not a god, or even descended of them.”
    “No, I am not. I am human.”
    “Not completely.” I grabbed the coffee mug and rolled it between my hands.
    “Astute observation. I am here to protect you because of a promise.”
    “Why are you avoiding my question?”
    “Why are you so calm about the events happening?”
    “Why answer my question with a question?”
    He sat back, growling. I smiled because tweaking his nose was entertaining. I could play the game with the best of them. I almost giggled when he closed his eyes, breathing slow and deep.
    “I prefer not to go into details about my life.”
    “Fair enough. That goes both ways.”
    I waited. He didn't need to know about my childhood, that I was only four the first time I'd seen a n immortal and pointed her out. Or the current events were no worse than the incident at thirteen. Or the changes I'd made to save my grandmother. He sure as hell didn't need to know about my little folly at nineteen.
    “Quid pro quo, then?” He finished the last of his coffee.
    “Bet your sweet bippy, handsome.”
    I stood and cleared the little table, stacked the dishes neatly outside the door, and took a shower. I ignored the open door, nothing I could do about it. After drying off and wrapping a towel around my head, I did a spit, polish and shine on my skin with lots of lotion. I dressed in jeans and comfortable tank top with the intention of playing tourist.
    “You are beautiful ,” he whispered, standing in the doorway.
    I jumped, nearly knocking myself out when I slipped on the tiles and landed hard on my ass. I snagged the little plastic trash can and threw it at his face. “Get out! Who the hell do you think you are?”
    I heard laughter as he left. I stood, grumbling about fidiots and their need to play peekaboo. Hair pulled into an octopus clip, clothes straightened, I grabbed my purse to leave. I decided not to play tourist, but head to the local university library. I remembered something from the night before and needed to research.
    The local university crawled with students and smelled like any other big school. The buildings spoke of the history, built with stone, ornate architectural lines, and decorated with banners for the football team. Students lay on the carefully manicured lawn with lovers or books, and in some cases, both. I followed directions to the library, and ensconced myself at a corner table with twenty or so books.
    The library was a throwback to the Victorian age, with plenty of oak paneling, bookcases three stories high, an enormous vaulted ceiling, herringbone pattern hardwood floor and long tables in neat rows. My table was in the far northeast corner, hidden from prying eyes, with a pull chain Tiffany lamp as company. Perfect.
    I could have used the internet to find answers, but when it comes to serious research, I found it easier to use real books, paper and pen.
    “Ma'am? We close in ten minutes.” The librarian, a small, neat woman in her early thirties, approached quietly, her tone low to keep from startling me. I met her beautiful hazel eyes and smiled , nodding. I closed all the books and began to return them to their proper places. I grabbed the notebook filled with scribbles, notes, hastily drawn pictures and various other information. I'd found the answer.
    I stopped at the diner, watching