ETHAN’S MATE (Book One: The Vampire Coalition) by J. S. Scott Page B

head
involuntarily. Connected? What in the hell did that mean? Yet
somehow she knew it was significant, that calling him meant
something.
    Brianna sighed as she pulled herself out of bed and
rose to her feet. Stretching lightly, she cursed her weak and
aching body as she made her way into the kitchen, her hungry feline
tangling around her feet. She picked up Mr. Wiggins, named after a
wonderful old gentleman she had worked with who couldn’t keep the
cat, and stroked him, enjoying the soft feel of his fur against her
cheek.
    “I’m just not ready to die yet, Wiggs,” she told him
softly as she continued to rub her cheek against his fur. “I don’t
feel like I’m supposed to die.”
    It was denial. She hadn’t yet made it to the
acceptance stage of her impending death and maybe she never would.
It seemed like she had been stuck in the denial stage since her
mysterious illness had struck. If she didn’t hurry up, she would
probably never make it through the stages of anger, bargaining,
depression and acceptance. It seemed like she had been stuck in
denial since the day her illness had been diagnosed.
    She dropped Wiggs to the floor lightly and dug
through her cupboard for the cat food. She filled the bowl and set
it on the floor. Wiggs, who was plump to begin with, devoured the
meal like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
    She raised an eyebrow. “Greedy little devil.” Wiggs
eyed her briefly with a look she could have sworn was kitty disdain
before returning to his gluttony.
    Brianna sighed as she plopped onto a stool at the
breakfast bar and watched Wiggs make a pig of himself. She was
still tired, but filled with a restlessness that she knew would
never let her sleep. Truthfully, she didn’t want to sleep anymore.
Tomorrow she would be back in the hospital for another transfusion
and she wanted to enjoy her one day of freedom.
    She needed to call her mother and let her know she
was still among the living. Maybe that was a bad expression to
use with Mom. Brianna decided she would just check in and leave
out the black humor that didn’t usually go over well with her
concerned parent. She’d just let her mom know that she was doing
fine. If she didn’t, her mother would come running over to check on
her.
    Denial! Denial! Denial!
    As Brianna headed for the shower, she decided she
really didn’t care if she lived out the rest of her short life in
that particular stage. If she only had a limited time in this
world, she would enjoy it in any stage she damn well pleased.
    She stopped in the bedroom to gather a clean pair of
jeans and a shirt, frowning as she caught a glance at her
reflection in the mirror over the dresser.
    It had been several months since they had tried their
last effort at chemo, so her blonde hair covered her head in a
short, spiky style, but her face looked haunted and old. Dark
circles framed her green eyes like she hadn’t slept in days,
whereas the truth was that she slept most of the day. And
night.
    But nights haunted her. She felt a yearning for…
something. And then there were the night terrors, a time where she
felt something evil lurking in the shadows. It might be the fear of
her impending demise, but she didn’t think so. She was still in
denial after all and it felt more like a dark presence and
impending doom. Every night the unknown entity felt closer, more
suffocating. Every night it kept her awake longer, making her
shiver under several blankets.
    Brianna slammed the drawer, angry with herself for
giving in to the fear. She would fight the darkness. If she could
fight leukemia, she could damn well shake off this feeling that
threatened to consume her after darkness had fallen.
    As she determinedly made her way to the bathroom for
a nice hot shower, she decided that she would enjoy every moment
she had left and leave the darkness behind.
    She marched into the bathroom, dropping her clothes
on the vanity and stripped, knowing she made that promise to
herself every day and it always