Читать книгу Heated - Niobia Bryant - Страница 8

Prologue

Holtsville, SC

Careful not to alert anyone to his presence, he moved in the darkness across the wild and grassy field with speed. He was nervous that he would be caught before his mission was complete. Like thunder and drums all rolled into one, his heart pounded in his chest. Sweat dampened his shirt, making it cling to his shoulders and back.

A sudden noise echoed from the surrounding darkness. He caught his breath and held it as nerves caused his bladder to fill. He quickly dropped down, pressing his stomach and knees to the cool earth surrounded by weeds and grass that was nearly three to four feet tall.

Holding his breath… he waited. Listening. Scared of being caught.

He heard nothing but the normal night sounds of the country: owls hooting, frogs singing their tunes, crickets busy scratching their legs.

Warily, he rose and moved ahead.

When the barn—already worn and torn from age and shameful neglect—came into view, he paused. For a second he looked up at the massive structure framed by the full moonlight.

It was almost majestic.

Swallowing any regret, he dashed inside.

He emerged moments later and ran as quickly as he could away from it. His feet thudded against the earth, his chest heaved with pain from his exertion.

He dared turning around only when he was cloaked by the trees—trees that welcomed and hid him.

The flames engulfing the barn were reflected in his ebony eyes.