Prologue

"Dude..."

Don't be fooled. The scorn in my voice is one hundred percent genuine, I assure you.

I glared through my windshield at the dumb ass in the middle of the street, who was, apparently, trying to get himself run over. Which is just brilliant, really. I have nothing against people with a death wish. They always know how to brighten up a room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I was yelling before I even had my door open, but that's besides the point. I'm somewhat positive that the I'm-not-even-kidding-when-I-say-I'm-going-to-kill-you look I'm throwing his way pretty much speaks for itself.

The keys were still in the ignition, allowing my rundown truck to grumble out obscenities via its loud mouth engine along with me. Yeah, we kind of just clicked like that.

"Do you realize how stupid you are?" I stalked right up to said idiot, not even caring that he was related to giants, or Hercules, or carried a mutated gene of DNA that made him exponentially huge. You know I'm pissed when reality seems to have checked out the Bed and Breakfast I call my brain.

He looked like everyone else around this small town, minus the largeness thing he had going on. And the shirtless thing he had going...off, I guess. Because giants take steroids too, and they like showing off the goods. You know how it goes.

His skin resembled soil and his muscles were like rocks. They were totally into the earth way out here. That's what happens when you move further north in this country. Just look at what the Canadians got going with their ice. They're always skating on it, or playing hockey or...whatever the hell else you can do on ice.

And yeah, I know Canada isn't apart of this country and that ice is water and not dirt. I'm witty, not dumb.

His hair was black and short, shaved on both sides of his head. You could totally tell it was an at home job. He probably butchered the thing himself. The jeans he wore were torn at the knees and frayed at the ends. They were baggy and looked like they were a size to big for him. He wasn't wearing any shoes either. Which is weird, considering he was walking in the middle of the street in some of the coldest weather I had ever frozen my butt off in.

It wasn't even raining yet. Curse my stars for being a California baby. I was spoiled with constant sunburns and endless access to UV rays. Now I'm going to slowly and painfully freeze to death.

"Well?" I demanded. "You going to explain yourself, gargantuan? Or you just going to stand there staring at me for heaven knows what?"

He was being quite rude. The staring mixed with the whole unblinking thing he had going on was not an acceptable social pass time. I might even call it an uncomfortable faux par. Not that it was getting to me or something equally as ridiculous as that. No, not even a little bit of uneasiness could be felt through my pissed-off-ness.

For cripes sake, I had almost hit someone with my car! And it wasn't even my fault!

I used my pinkie finger to point at him ominously, because the pinkie finger always means business when shits about to go down. I learned from experience when I was five and knocked over my family's thousand pound, ancient TV and almost killed myself. I could never look at my mother's pinkie the same way again without getting the willies. Oh what a dark day that had been.

"If you want to go and get yourself killed," I shouted up at his shocked face, "there are a lot less painful ways to do it! And I sure as hell won't be responsible for killing some suicidal bean stalk who jumped out in front of my truck! I don't even care how vertically gifted you are, cause my truck would have laid your ass out flat! And then what, you son of a biscuit? Do you know how much trouble I would be in? Seeing as how you aren't exactly harvesting any brain cells in that tiny brain of yours, I'm sure you're probably not aware of this, but killing is a sin. A sin! You don't even want to see me if you inadvertently make me a sinner. Good old Saint Peter couldn't hold me back before I got my hands on you!"

He was shaking from head to foot, most likely in fear. I had that effect on people.

I crossed my arms and held my head high in challenge. Let him riddle me that one without digging himself a deeper hole.

The jerk had the nerve to smile. "Isn't cussing a sin?"

"I said biscuit, not bitch," I snapped.

His smile grew and shaking slowed. "My names Embry."

"Mine is confidential. Now you want to get your ass off the street so I don't have to run you over purposely to get by?"

"If you ran me over with your truck on purpose, then you'd really be a sinner."

"Different situation. God will forgive me."

"For killing me on purpose, but not an accident?"

"Don't question me!" I glared at him, attempting to melt him with my mind. "Get off the road!"

"What's your name?"

"Confidential. Get off the road."

"I'll move out of your way if you tell me your name."

"You'll move out of my way right now, or I'll go through you."

"Embry Call. That's my full name."

"Irrelivant. Move."

"What's your name?"

"I'm hitting you with my truck." I spun on my heel and marched straight back to my door. Honestly, what's he got to be all up in my business for? If it wasn't for my amazing driving skills, he'd be a pancake right now. If anything, he should be kneeling at my feet smothering me with his gratitude. Didn't he know how these things worked?

I stepped up into my truck and slammed the door. He was standing right in front of my truck with his hands pressed flat against the hood, restaining me.

Apparently this whole concept was just over his head.

I honked at him. Repeatedly.

"What's your name?" he shouted over the sound of my horn.

I stepped on the gas.

Thank you everyone for giving this story a chance! Please review and let me know what you think of the story so far :) Sorry about all teh grammar and spelling errors. Spell Check just does not want to be my friend right now haha

Thank you again and please review!

-GrumpySunshine