Blood Descendants (St. Clair Vampires Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

and prayed that he didn’t see me.
    After a few moments and
more talk about when and where my mother was suppose to deliver me
and how she was going to collect her money, the white-haired boy
walked off. My mother turned toward the window at that time and I
jumped back, not wanting her to see me, then ran up to my room before
she came into the house. I climbed onto my bed and pretended to be
asleep. Like clockwork, she opened the door to check on me. This was
a nightly ritual that I had always thought was a display of love and
concern. The fact that her concern for my well-being was attached to
a dollar amount made me sick. She stood in the doorway for a few
moments before closing it and walking away.
    Anger, fear and sadness
overwhelmed me. When my adoptive mom agreed to take me in 5 years
ago, I thought that I had finally found someone to love me. She had
read all about my problems with my other foster families and didn’t
even blink. But, in the end, she had just wanted money. It wasn't
love that made her look past all of my faults and mishaps. My first
foster family was a middle class family from Atlanta and I was their
pride and joy. They would dress me up in the cutest little dresses
and parade me around their church as if I was a prize they had won.
    One day during Sunday
school, the Pastor’s granddaughter pushed me down and got my
dress dirty. When I started to cry, she started to laugh. The more I
cried the more she laughed. It was horrible. As I stood there with
clenched fists, crying over my dirty dress, I tried to catch my
breath. Her laughter quieted with each breath I took. After a few
deep breaths, her laughter was silenced and she lay at my feet
fighting for air. By the time the Pastor’s wife found us, the
little girl was gasping for breath and I was smiling over her prone
body. The younger members of the congregation were terrified and my
foster parents were scandalized. Needless to say, I was returned to
the orphanage the next day.
    For the next several
years I had tried to control my anger in order to stay in my foster
homes. And time after time I failed. My first foster parents thought
I was possessed by the devil. The rest of them simply thought I was
too much trouble for the pay. For 9 years I was shuffled from home to
home feeling like a living, breathing version of Carrie and the
fire-starter. The entire time I was only trying to find someone to
love me. But, after 5 years in the Redding home, I was faced with
another rejection; a true betrayal.
    My plan was to wait
until my mom got into the shower before I got off the bed. I took a
couple of deep breaths, trying to fight back the tears that were
inevitable. When my vision began to blur I had to admit that I was
losing the battle and my world began to spiral before me. Closing my
eyes to keep from throwing up I was well on my way to calming down
when a hand covered my mouth. Futility I screamed only to have the
sound muffled and the hand clamp down harder. I struggled against
the weight that was holding me down and tried to get a look at my
assailant.
    “ Will
you stop?” asked the familiar voice of my best friend, Tabitha.
“It’s only me!”
    “ Only
you?!” My heart was pumping so hard it felt like it would jump
out of my body. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    “ Shhh,
Cheyenne”, Tabitha hissed. “Someone is watching your
house and I really need you to be quiet. I am going to crawl over to
the window and get a closer look. Don’t you dare move!”
    I felt Tabitha’s
weight lift off of me and lost sight of her in the dark. Someone was
watching my house? Crap. And what was Tabitha doing in my bedroom
at…2:00 AM? This was crazy, but I lay as still as possible as
I heard a scrape on the window sill and I stayed there until Tabitha
returned to kneel on the side of my bed.
    “ They’re
gone and we have to go, too. You need to get changed.” Tabitha
waltzed over to my closet and threw a pair of black jeans and a black
t-shirt