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The Pledge trilogy. Kimberly Derting The Essence (#2 Pledge) part 1 of 2. 47 . Separation Games (The Games Duet #2) by C.D. KB. 2. by: Kimberly Derting. 1. The Pledge - Kimberly KB. 2. The Essence - Kimberly KB. 3. The Offering - Kimberly Derting. epub. The Pledge Kimberly Derting Epub Download Mac The Essence Pledge 2 Kimberly Derting The essence (the pledge, #2) by kimberly derting.

The Essence Kimberly Derting Epub

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Kimberly Derting - 2. The essence - dokument [*.epub] Thank you for downloading this eBook. Sign up for the S&S Teen Newsletter - Find out. The Essence (The Pledge #2) ". By: Kimberly Derting. Ebook Downloader Online , Bookseller, Ebook Reader, Epub Download For Pc, Ebookers,. Pdf Free. Kimberly Derting is the author of the Cece Loves Science series, the Body Finder series, the Pledge Kimberly Derting Author cover image of The Essence.

Automatyczne logowanie. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise-without prior permission of the publisher and author. Cover and interior design by Alistair Wells. I did know I wouldn't be getting anything done until I read the whole book. A real page-turner, this will have readers checking behind themselves and refusing to go anywhere alone.

But I wasn't. And I couldn't. Sighing, I dropped my feet as I turned to roll onto my stomach so I could push myself up from the ground.

And then I froze as my numbed mind recalled the first rule of battle: Never turn your back on your opponent. Before I could reconcile my mistake, he was on top of me.

I never even heard him. He was stealthy, like a tiger. And I was at the receiving end of his claws. The knife at my neck seemed to have materialized from nowhere, and there was a moment when my blood turned to ice as he dragged its blade along the base of my throat until its point converged with my hammering pulse.

Then he withdrew his blade, shoving me back to the ground. And again, I found myself eating dirt.

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I took it, but only because my back was still throbbing where the rock had jabbed me. Remember that. I swayed slightly and glared at him, but kept my mouth shut. He was right, of course. I was inadequate. I waited while he waded up to his ankles in the shallow pond to retrieve my sword-his sword, actually-and wipe it clean.

Bending over, I stifled a groan as I hefted the one he'd been using from the ground where it had fallen. It weighed at least five times what mine did and had intricate carvings, not just around the hilt but continuing along the length of its curved blade. To anyone else, the carvings would appear to be gibberish. To me, the girl who could understand all languages, they were poetic: Danii, a weapon forged of steel and blood.

I grinned over the fact that Zafir's sword bore its own name. And that whoever had crafted his steel had lovingly engraved a message declaring not only its name but also its origin. I'd asked him about it once-about the origin of the weapon and the language engraved into its blade. He'd told me only that he wasn't born in Ludania, and that the weapon had been an ancestral gift. I'm a reluctant participant. I might as well be spending all my time in riding lessons considering how little my fighting's improved.

At least then the horse might do what I want her to. You need riding lessons, not fighting lessons. You're a queen, not a soldier. During the day, the drooping branches' tips, which nearly brushed the ground, were extinguished and the trees served as the perfect shelter for the enormous animals we'd ridden, shielding them from view. At night, however, the nibbed ends of each branch would burn bright in shades of blues or reds or white, depending on the blossoms.

A million tiny buds of light would flicker and flash, casting this entire sector of the forest in an ethereal glow in which nothing-and no one-could hide. Something I understood all too well, I thought as I glanced down at my hands, where light flickered just beneath my skin. Zafir slipped through the curtain of wilting boughs and, after a moment, returned holding the reins of two magnificent mares.

Magnificent, that was, to those who appreciated horses. Unlike me. It was unnatural for humans to be riding animals. Or at least that was what my aching body insisted, even before I readied to take the saddle once more. I wasn't like Brooklynn. I seemed incapable of learning that natural rhythm required to master horseback riding, that same rhythm she possessed when sitting astride her stallion. The easy way her body moved and rocked, not just in sync with the horse, but almost as if she'd become an extension of it.

Like part of a single fluid wave in which they seemed to become one. I, however, remained separate from my animal, remaining stiff, and bouncing and lurching uncomfortably. My body fought the motions of the beast beneath me, resistant to its gait. In truth, they terrified me, the horses. All of them. They were large and unpredictable and far too powerful. Yet another reason I could never truly be warrior. What kind of soldier couldn't manage her own steed? Stretching my back and preparing for the ride home, I reached up to the saddle's horn and balanced one foot in the stirrup as I hauled myself up, throwing my other leg over the smooth leather seat.

Once I was settled, Zafir handed me the reins, and as he did, my stomach tightened. I hated this part. I hated that it was in my hands to command this beast. A country, sure. An animal larger than my royal guard, no thank you. When we returned, Sebastian was already waiting for us in front of the stables. The theme for the stories was "road trips. I decided that Rafe needed a backstory, preferably one that would haunt him forever.

He tried to gauge how far the road stretched before him, tried to calculate how much farther he had to walk. He really didn't need to see, though. He knew, even without ever having been there before. He was close now. He started walking again, counting his paces as the chain that dangled from his wallet slapped against his hip in a steady rhythm. Trees framed both sides of the narrow stretch of deserted highway, and the sound of gravel crunching beneath his heavy black boots was the only noise he could hear.

Even that seemed too loud, reminding him how alone he was out there, in the dead of the night. He felt like a target, walking down the middle of the road like that. It had been easy enough to ignore the strange look he'd gotten from the trucker he'd hitched a ride with when he told the old guy he'd be walking the rest of the way.

Rafe knew what he'd been thinking when the rig shuddered to a stop in front of the insignificant mile marker-not even a real exit-with no restaurant or gas station in sight: Walking to where?

Where the hell was this kid going, out here in the middle of nowhere? But it didn't matter what that grizzled old fart thought; Rafe needed to be here. He had to find out if this was real or not. From somewhere behind him, he heard a bird-an owl, probably. He'd never actually heard one in real life before, only seen them in cartoons when he was a kid.

But that was exactly what they'd sounded like on TV, that hoo-hoo sound. He continued counting his steps and doing the math in his head. Fifty-six down.

A hundred and sixteen to go. A hundred and fifteen,,,a hundred and fourteen,,, How do I know that? How can I possibly know how many more steps I have to take till I get there? He shrugged to himself, the weight of his backpack heavy on his shoulder. He just did, that's how.

He used to doubt them, his dreams-the ones that came to him like memories-but he was starting to realize they were rarely wrong. Even when he wanted them to be, like this time. He wanted so badly for this one to be wrong,,,just a plain old stupid, fucking dream.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the cell phone he'd bought at the truck stop where he'd hitched his last ride. It was one of those prepaid deals, so no one could track him down, so no one could figure out where he'd gone. He flipped it open to make sure he still had service-way the hell out here. There were three bars left; he shouldn't have a problem placing the call when the time came.

When he tucked the phone away again, his fingers brushed over the doll Sophie had given him before she'd disappeared. His chest ached as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the woolly hair sticking up from its head.

He missed Sophie. He missed holding her, kissing her, arguing with her. The doll was one of those ugly little trolls with a scrunched-up face and a naked stocky body and shocking neon-pink hair. Only this one had been altered. Sophie had used a Sharpie to streak its pink hair, and to paint its fingers and toes her favorite color: She'd even given it a piercing, shoving a tiny silver stud through its wide, flat nose.

She called it her lucky doll. Keep him," she'd said, pressing the doll into Rafe's hand and forcing him to close his fingers around it. This way you won't forget me while I'm gone.

He didn't want to think about letting her leave. I don't want to have to remember you with some fucked-up doll. She'd cried so many times since she'd told him she was leaving that he wondered how she could possibly be doing it again. He, on the other hand, hadn't shed a single tear, and he knew that made him some kind of prick or something, but he didn't care.

He was too pissed to cry. Stay with me; I'll keep you safe. If that bastard tries to come anywhere near you-" She shook her head, wisps of her dirty-blond hair tickling his chin.

Kimberly Derting

She can't get a job if she can't afford a babysitter, and she can't get a babysitter without a job. Just quit school so you can babysit your little brother? Connie's supposed to be the mom, Soph, not you. One he'd already lost, even before it had started. And Sophie knew it. She bit the ring in her lower lip, the sparkle in her impish pale-gray eyes telling him she was no longer interested in fighting.

She shoved him backward until he fell onto his twin bed-the one that was almost too cramped for the two of them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he felt the familiar jolt, the charge of electricity he always felt whenever their skin touched.

She pressed her chest-her breasts-against him. Sophie was great at distractions. I'll only stay until she can get settled somewhere, get a job, and get Jakey into day care or something. Then I'll come back. He sighed, surrendering to everything she offered. But if he was going to let her go, he needed her to have a keepsake too.

He tugged at the ring on his finger, a black stone surrounded by carved stainless steel that he'd picked up when they'd gone to get her lip pierced. He'd bought it because of its cool biker vibe, but it had never really meant anything to him. Until now.

Sophie's eyes filled with tears again. He loved that about her: He grinned. He reached behind him, his hand searching for the ugly-ass doll.

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