Halflings Read Online Free

the clothes she had on.
    She jumped from the bed, and the room spun around her. “Whoa,” she muttered as fingers scrambled for the bedpost, holding on with white-knuckled determination until the walls slowly sharpened into focus.
    In the dream, she hit the fence. She remembered the slicing pain when the chain links cut into her flesh. Lifting her hands, she examined them, front and back.
    Nothing. Not a scratch on her fingers, not a cut on her hands. And no jacket. Nikki’s mind raced. She had her jacket on in the dream and it snagged and tore on a branch. Her gaze darted from the small bistro table sitting in one corner to her laptop in the other corner, but no sign of her light coat. The room whirled again. Nikki sank to the bed and her hair fell across her face. A few calming breaths later, she shoved the loose strands back as the nausea passed.
    “It had to be a dream,” she whispered.
    No, the hounds were real.
    And those beautiful eyes, they
had
to be real. She rolled her pant leg and searched for the mark the monster dog left. Twisting, she squeezed her calf. No wound. No pain. As sheunrolled the material, however, a spot of blood appeared on the denim. She unsnapped and unzipped her jeans and dragged them from her body, turning them inside out. Skin exposed, goose bumps spread along her thighs.
    The spot on her jeans was larger on the inside than on the outside, making it clear the dried blood had come from her. Using one hand to tug her hair over her shoulder and out of the way, she propped her foot on the bed and examined her calf again.
    Nada. She poked at the spot where the bite mark should have been.
Not even sore.
She lifted the jeans for closer inspection. Just above the dried blood, a tiny hole. Frantically, she brought the material to her face and searched. A black hair was partially buried in the blood. Clasping the thing between her finger and thumbnail, she tugged it from its cocoon, finding it half an inch in length and … wiry. She placed it on her night-stand and repeatedly wiped her hand against the bed, removing the dead sensation the hair created.
    Standing on shaky legs, she peeked from her bedroom window. A cloudless Missouri sky hovered above the world,
her
world, and the home she’d known since birth. She took in the room that had grown with her, first filled with baby dolls and teddy bears, then Barbie and the preferred G.I. Joes; now replaced with karate trophies and artwork. All of her favorites splashed across her walls, with
Starry Night
’s swirls shimmering down on her. And somewhere in the deepest corner of her closet her much-loved teddy rested in a box. Yes, this was her world. Safe. Normal. Without wolf-dogs.
    In the kitchen, her mother was probably baking as she did every Saturday morning, while her dad puttered around in the garage playing with ancient swords and daggers. As antiqueweapons dealers, her parents’ passion for history had always fascinated Nikki, and likely spawned her interest in art. They’d taught her beauty was often hidden in ordinary items, but with the right amount of care, patience, and a dose of determination, what most see as junk could become a treasure.
    She drew a breath and started to turn from the window, but something flashed in the fringe of woods alongside her house.
    Cold chills ran up and down her spine as she squinted into the darkened edge of trees. Off to the right, movement. She tried to swallow against the desert growing in her throat, but gulped down only hot, sticky air. Her hand trembled, squeezing the curtain with such force she felt each pulse of blood pumping through her closed fingers.
    Something was lurking in the shadows. And it was waiting for her.

     
    “So, can you give me a reason why you’re so distracted today?” Krissy asked, batting thick lashes at her while sinking into the coffee shop seat.
    Nikki pulled the latte to her lips and took a long, lingering drink. Explain?
I wouldn’t know where to begin.
    Krissy