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Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death

Chapter 8

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death

Waking up alone in a strange room that smelled like dust and werewolf was starting to be a pattern — one I didn't like much.

And since I was now mated to Ian, that might be every morning for the rest of my life. That was a cheerful thought before I even had any coffee.

Coffee. I'd finally fallen asleep sometime after dawn, probably right before Ian got up and left. Exhaustion had kept me under while he moved around. Now it looked like it was about noon, going by the angle of the light. Of course Ian didn't have a clock, and my phone was smashed somewhere on the floor of a warehouse. Just as well. If I'd had one, Ian probably would have kept it anyway. I could picture him hunched over it, waiting for a text that read, “Oh hey this is the Kimball shaman. Killed Matthew Armitage yet? Report soon! :) Good luck!” I was pretty sure Ian actually did think I was that dumb.

Asshole.

I swung my legs out of bed, winced at the chill of the floor against
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