Keeping 13 Read Online Novels & Stories

Chapter 14: Three Years Later Arlo's Pov: “You’re ignoring me.” “I’m listening.” “You’re typing.” “I can do both.” Kevin leans over, trying to peek at Arlo’s laptop. “That’s offensive.” Arlo tilts the screen away without looking up. “That’s private.” “It’s economics,” Kevin says. “How private can it be?” “Very.” Kevin huffs, then nudges Arlo’s shoulder with his own. “You’re actually impossible, you know that?”

Unbelievable. After a day of hesitation, I attended the job interview. The interviewer was a middle-aged woman with a one-inch scar running along the corner of her eye. She introduced herself as Emmy. “I’ve reviewed your resume.” Emmy scrutinized me from head to toe for three whole minutes, her arms folded, even demanding that I got up and do a turn for her. Then, she said emotionlessly, “Strip.” Taken aback, I nervously glanced at the door. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

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After that, she took my hand and pulled me into the kitchen while mumbling words of gratitude. The kitchen was dimly lit. Almost immediately, I could feel chills running down my spine. At that moment, I had the urge to flee from the house. Mrs. Hackett sat me down on a stool before taking a seat next to me. She murmured into my ear, "Run, lassie. Quick, escape." Those words were spoken in proper Anglanish. I was rendered shell-shocked by the warning. I was about to ask Mrs. Hackett what was going on when I saw her pouring out some warm water from the thermos flask.

It was winter break. I could still remember the first drop of snow had settled down on my window pane as I sat and watched. Snow didn't fall much here in Miami, and when it did, it was never for long. Christmas was more beautiful in New York, more lively. I should have stayed back with Jasmine instead of coming here. But what choice did I have, especially after my mother had cried her eyes out over the phone the night before I got here. She was always so good with emotional blackmail.

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She did not have to wait long. End of Chapter 13

… Early that morning, the sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming my skin with soft, gentle rays. My cheek was pressed against Clayton's taut muscles as I pulled my phone from under the pillow. My friend, Helen Watkins, had sent me a text. "Where are you? Did my weird little shut-in sneak home again?" I replied," No. I bought a new venting beastkin yesterday. I was busy venting." Lisa replied with a "?" before sending me a whole barrage of texts. "Layla, how could you do this?" "I know your beastkin isn't unruly, and you're upset, but you can't just get a venting beastkin and take it out on them!"

This felt like it was vibrating on the page and she could not help but touch it. A light electric shock struck her hand and a warning appeared on the page, “This book is meant for the eyes of the Holy Clan. None but those whom are members of the clan may read this book. Great protections shroud this book and anyone defying this requirement will find themselves turned to stone.”

Some disgusting. 'Of course it's an older woman. He always had a mommy kink.' 'She's cheap. You can see it in her eyes.' 'Just another distraction before he goes pro again.' 'Guess he couldn't get a real girl, so he picked the janitor.' My chest constricts. The words don't feel like text on a screen—they feel like knives. Each one carving out the soft places I tried so hard to keep hidden. "Chelsea," Chase says firmly. "Don't read them. Seriously. People are jealous, stupid, nasty. Don't give them space in your head."