STONE COLD TOUCH (THE DARK ELEMENTS BOOK 2) BY JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT

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Review "The second in the Dark Elements series is an absolutely phenomenal, edge-of-your-seat thrill ride." ---RT Book Reviews About the Author Jennifer L. Armentrout is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Covenant series and the Lux series. She writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance, and she also publishes adult romantic fiction, including the Gamble Brothers series, under the pseudonym J. Lynn. Saskia Maarleveld is an experienced audiobook narrator and voice-over actress based in New York City. Raised in New Zealand and France, she is highly skilled with accents and dialects, and many of her books have been narrated entirely in accents other than her own. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Ten seconds after Mrs. Cleo moseyed on into biology class, flipped on the projector and turned off the lights, Bambi decided she was no longer comfortable where she was currently curled around my waist. Sliding along my stomach, the very active demonic snake tattoo was not a fan of sitting still for any length of time, especially not during a boring lecture on the food chain. I stiffened, resisting the urge to giggle like a hyena as she cruised up between my breasts and rested her diamond-shaped head on my shoulder. Five more seconds passed while Stacey stared at me, her brows raised. I forced a tight smile, knowing Bambi wasn't done yet. Nope. Her tongue flicked out, tickling the side of my neck. I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling a giggle as I squirmed in my seat. "Are you on drugs?" Stacey asked in a low voice as she brushed thick bangs out of her dark eyes.

"Or is my left boob hanging out and saying hello to the world? Because as my best friend, you're obligated to tell me." Even though I knew her boob was in her shirt, or at least I hoped so since her V-neck sweater was pretty low cut, my gaze dipped as I lowered my hand. "Your boob is fine. I'm just…antsy." She wrinkled her nose at me before returning her attention to the front of the classroom. Drawing in a deep breath, I prayed that Bambi would remain where she was for the rest of the class. With her on my skin, it was like having a mad case of the tics. Twitching every five seconds wasn't going to help my popularity, or lack thereof. Luckily, with the much cooler weather and Thanksgiving fast approaching, I could get away with wearing turtlenecks and long sleeves, which hid Bambi from sight. Well, as long as she didn't decide to crawl up on my face. Something she liked to do whenever Zayne was around. He was an absolutely gorgeous Warden—a member of the race of creatures who could look human at will, but whose true form was what humans called gargoyles. Wardens were tasked with protecting mankind, hunting what went bump in the night…and during the day. I'd grown up with Zayne and had nursed one heck of a puppy-dog crush on him for years. Bambi shifted, her tail tickling the side of my stomach. I had no idea how Roth had dealt with Bambi crawling all over him. My breath caught as a deep, unforgiving pang hit me in the chest. Without thinking, I reached for the ring with the cracked stone—the ring that had once held the blood of my mother, the Lilith—dangling from my necklace. Feeling the cool metal between my fingers was calming. Not because of the familial bond, since I really didn't claim a relationship with my mother, but because, along with Bambi, it was my last and only link to Astaroth, the Crown Prince of Hell, who had done the most undemonic thing. I lost myself the moment I found you. Roth had sacrificed himself by being the one to hold Paimon, the bastard responsible for wanting to unleash an especially nasty race of demons, in a devil's trap meant to send its captive to Hell. Zayne had been doing the honors of keeping Paimon from escaping, but Roth…he'd taken Zayne's place. And now he was in the fiery pits. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on the cool table, completely unaware of what Mrs. Cleo was droning on about. Tears burned the back of my throat as I stared at the empty chair in front of me that used to belong to Roth. I closed my eyes. Two weeks. Three hundred and thirty-six hours, give or take a few, had passed since that night in the old gymnasium and not a second had gotten easier. It hurt as if it had happened an hour ago and I wasn't sure if a month or even a year from now would be any different. One of the hardest parts was all the lies. Stacey and Sam had asked a hundred questions when Roth hadn't returned after the night we had located the Lesser Key of Solomon (the ancient book

that had the answers to everything we'd needed to know about my mother) and had been caught by Abbot (the leader of the Warden clan in D.C. who had adopted me as a young girl). They'd stopped eventually, but it was still another secret I was keeping from them, two of my closest friends. Despite our friendship, neither of them knew what I was—half Warden, half demon. And neither of them realized that Roth hadn't just been out with mono or changed schools. But sometimes it was easier to think of him that way—to tell myself he was just at another school instead of where he was. The burn moved into my chest, much like the low simmer in my veins that was always present. The need to take a soul, the curse my mother had passed on to me, hadn't diminished one bit over the past two weeks. If anything, it had seemed to increase. The ability to draw the soul out of any creature that had one was why I hadn't ever gotten close to a boy before. Not until Roth had come along. Given that he was a demon, the pesky soul problem was a moot point. He didn't have one. And unlike Abbot and almost all of the Warden clan, even Zayne, Roth hadn't cared that I was a mixed breed. He had…he'd accepted me as I was. Scrubbing my palms over my eyes, I bit the inside of my cheek. When I'd found my repaired and cleaned-up necklace—the one Petr, a Warden who turned out to be my half brother, had broken during his attack on me—at Roth's apartment, I'd clung to the hope that Roth wasn't in the pits after all. That he'd somehow escaped, but with each passing day, that hope flickered out like a candle in the middle of a hurricane. I believed more than anything in this world that if Roth could've come back to me, he would have by now, and that meant. When my chest squeezed painfully, I opened my eyes and slowly let out the breath I'd been holding. The room was a little blurry through the haze of unshed tears. I blinked a couple of times as I slumped back in my seat. Whatever was on the slide projector made no sense to me. Something to do with the circle of life? No, that was The Lion King. I was so going to fail this class. Figuring I should at least attempt to take notes, I picked up my pen and— At the front of the class, the metal legs from a chair scraped across the floor, screeching loudly. A boy exploded out of his chair as if someone had lit a fire under his butt. A faint yellow glow surrounded him—his aura. I was the only one who could see it, but it sputtered erratically, blinking in and out. Seeing people's auras—a reflection of their souls—was nothing new for me. They were all kinds of colors, sometimes a mixture of more than two, but I'd never seen one waver like that before. I glanced around the room and the mixture of auras glimmered faintly. What the Hell? Mrs. Cleo's hand was frozen above the projector as she frowned. "Dean McDaniel, what in the world are you—" Dean spun on his heel, facing the two guys sitting behind him. They were leaning back in their seats, their arms crossed and lips curved up in identical smirks. Dean's mouth was pressed into a

thin line and his face was flushed. My mouth dropped open as he planted one hand on the white tabletop and slammed his other fist into the jaw of the kid behind him. The fleshy smack echoed through the classroom, followed by several surprised gasps. Holy granola bar! I sat up straight as Stacey slapped her hands on our table. "Holy shit balls for Sunday dinner," she whispered, gaping as the boy Dean had punched slumped to the left and hit the floor like a bag of potatoes. I didn't know Dean very well. Hell, I wasn't sure if I'd spoken more than a handful of words to him during my four years in high school, but he was quiet and average, tall and slender, much like Sam. Totally not the kind of kid who'd be voted most likely to knock another guy—a much bigger guy—into next week. "Dean!" shouted Mrs. Cleo, her ample chest rising as she rushed to the wall, flipping the overhead lights on. "What are—?" The other guy shot up like an arrow, hands clenching into meaty fists at his sides. "What the Hell is wrong with you?" He rounded the table, shrugging out of his zipped hoodie. "You want some of this?" Stuff always got real when the clothes started to come off. Dean snickered as he stalked to the aisle. Chairs screeched as students moved out of the way. "Oh, I'm about to get me some of that." "Boy fight!" Stacey exclaimed as she dug around in her bag, pulling out her cell phone. Several other students were doing the same thing. "I so have to get this on camera." "Boys! Stop it right now." Mrs. Cleo smacked her hand against the wall, hitting the intercom wired directly to the front office. A beep sounded and she turned to it frantically. "I need the security guard in room two-oh-four immediately!" Dean launched himself at his opponent, tackling him to the floor. Arms flew as they rolled into the legs of a nearby table. In the back of the classroom, we were safe, but Stacey and I stood up anyway. A shiver coursed over my skin as Bambi shifted without warning, flicking her tail across my stomach. Stacey stretched up on the tips of her boots, apparently needing a better angle for her phone. "This is." "Bizarre?" I supplied, flinching as the boy got a good hit in, knocking Dean's head back. She arched a brow at me. "I was going to go with awesome." "But they're—" I jumped as the classroom door swung open and banged into the wall.

Security officers swarmed the class, heading straight for the melee. One beefy guy wrapped his arms around Dean, dragging him off the other student as Mrs. Cleo buzzed around the room like a nervous hummingbird, clutching her tacky beaded necklace with both hands. A middle-aged security guard knelt beside the boy Dean had punched. Only then did I realize the boy hadn't stirred once since hitting the floor. A trickle of unease, having nothing to do with the way Bambi was moving again, formed in my belly as the guard leaned over the prone boy, placing his head near his chest. The guard jerked back, reaching for the microphone on his shoulder. His face was white as the paper in my notebook. "I need an EMT immediately dispatched. I have a teenage male, approximately seventeen or eighteen years of age. Visible bruising along the skull. He's not breathing." "Oh my God," I whispered, clutching Stacey's arm. A hush descended over the room, quelling the excited chatter. Mrs. Cleo stopped by her desk, her jowls jiggling silently. Stacey sucked in a breath as she lowered her phone. The silence following the urgent call was broken when Dean threw back his head and laughed as the other security guard dragged him from the classroom. Stacey tucked her shoulder-length black hair back behind her ears. She hadn't touched the slice of pizza on her plate or her can of soda. Neither had I. She was probably thinking along the same lines that I was. Principal Blunt and the guidance counselor I'd never really paid attention to had given all the students in the class the option to go home. I didn't have a ride. Morris, the clan's chauffeur, handyman and all-around awesome guy, was still on the no-ride list with me since, the last time we'd been in a car together, a possessed cabdriver had tried to play chicken with our vehicles. And I didn't want to wake up Zayne or Nicolai—for the most part, full-blooded Wardens slept deeply during the day, entombed in their hard shells. And Stacey didn't want to be home with her baby brother. So here we were, in the cafeteria. But neither of us had an appetite. "I'm officially traumatized," she said, taking a deep breath. "Seriously." "It's not like the guy is dead," Sam replied around a mouthful of pizza. His wire-frame glasses slipped to the tip of his nose. Curly brown hair flopped over his forehead. His soul, a faint mixture of yellow and blue, flickered just like everyone else's had since this morning, winking in and out as if it was playing peekaboo with me. "I heard he was revived in the ambulance." "That still doesn't change the fact that we saw someone get punched in the face so hard that they died right in front of us," she insisted, eyes wide. "Or are you missing the point?" Sam swallowed the bite of pizza. "How do you know he really died? Just because a wannabe police officer says that someone's not breathing doesn't mean that's true." He glanced over at my plate. "You gonna eat that?"

I shook my head at him, sort of dumbfounded. "It's all yours." A second later, he snatched the pizza with the little pepperoni cubes off my plate. His gaze flickered up to mine. "Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded as he munched away. "Sorry. I know I don't sound very sympathetic." "Ya think?" Stacey muttered drily. A dull ache flared behind my eyes as I reached for my soda. I needed caffeine. I also needed to figure out what the Hell was up with everyone's auras doing the wonky thing. The colorful shading around a human represented what kind of soul they were rocking: white for an utterly pure soul, pastels were the most common and usually indicated a good soul, and the darker the colors got, the more questionable the status of one's soul became. And if a human didn't have that telltale halo around him, that meant he was on Team No Soul. I.e., he was a demon. I wasn't doing much tagging anymore—another nifty ability I had thanks to my mixed heritage. If I touched a demon, it was equivalent to sticking a neon sign on their body, which made it easier for Wardens to search them out. Well, it didn't work on Upper Level demons. Not much did. I didn't stop because of what had happened with Paimon and then being forbidden to tag. Abbot had ungrounded me for life after the night in the gymnasium, but it felt wrong to randomly tag demons, especially now that I knew many of them might be harmless. When I did tag, I went for the Posers, since they were dangerous and had a habit of biting people, and left the Fiends alone. And truthfully, the change in my tagging routine was all thanks to Roth. "It's just that those two idiots were probably messing with Dean," Sam continued as he finished off the pizza in a nanosecond. "People snap." "People usually don't have fists that could be considered lethal weapons," Stacey retorted.

STONE COLD TOUCH (THE DARK ELEMENTS BOOK 2) BY JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT PDF

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STONE COLD TOUCH (THE DARK ELEMENTS BOOK 2) BY JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT PDF

#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout draws readers into the extraordinary, irresistible world of Wardens and demons in the second book of The Dark Elements series. Every touch has its price Layla Shaw is trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life—no easy task for a seventeen-yearold who's pretty sure things can't get worse. Her impossibly gorgeous best friend, Zayne, is forever off-limits thanks to the mysterious powers of her soul-stealing kiss. The Warden clan that has always protected her is suddenly keeping dangerous secrets. And she can barely think about Roth, the wickedly hot demon prince who understood her in ways no one else could. But sometimes rock bottom is only the beginning. Because suddenly Layla's powers begin to evolve, and she's offered a tantalizing taste of what has always been forbidden. Then, when she least expects it, Roth returns, bringing news that could change her world forever. She's finally getting what she always wanted, but with hell literally breaking loose and the body count adding up, the price may be higher than Layla is willing to pay….

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Sales Rank: #62665 in eBooks Published on: 2014-11-01 Released on: 2014-10-21 Format: Kindle eBook

Review "The second in the Dark Elements series is an absolutely phenomenal, edge-of-your-seat thrill ride." ---RT Book Reviews About the Author Jennifer L. Armentrout is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Covenant series and the Lux series. She writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance, and she also publishes adult romantic fiction, including the Gamble Brothers series, under the pseudonym J. Lynn. Saskia Maarleveld is an experienced audiobook narrator and voice-over actress based in New York City. Raised in New Zealand and France, she is highly skilled with accents and dialects, and many of her books have been narrated entirely in accents other than her own. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Ten seconds after Mrs. Cleo moseyed on into biology class, flipped on the projector and turned off the lights, Bambi decided she was no longer comfortable where she was currently curled around

my waist. Sliding along my stomach, the very active demonic snake tattoo was not a fan of sitting still for any length of time, especially not during a boring lecture on the food chain. I stiffened, resisting the urge to giggle like a hyena as she cruised up between my breasts and rested her diamond-shaped head on my shoulder. Five more seconds passed while Stacey stared at me, her brows raised. I forced a tight smile, knowing Bambi wasn't done yet. Nope. Her tongue flicked out, tickling the side of my neck. I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling a giggle as I squirmed in my seat. "Are you on drugs?" Stacey asked in a low voice as she brushed thick bangs out of her dark eyes. "Or is my left boob hanging out and saying hello to the world? Because as my best friend, you're obligated to tell me." Even though I knew her boob was in her shirt, or at least I hoped so since her V-neck sweater was pretty low cut, my gaze dipped as I lowered my hand. "Your boob is fine. I'm just…antsy." She wrinkled her nose at me before returning her attention to the front of the classroom. Drawing in a deep breath, I prayed that Bambi would remain where she was for the rest of the class. With her on my skin, it was like having a mad case of the tics. Twitching every five seconds wasn't going to help my popularity, or lack thereof. Luckily, with the much cooler weather and Thanksgiving fast approaching, I could get away with wearing turtlenecks and long sleeves, which hid Bambi from sight. Well, as long as she didn't decide to crawl up on my face. Something she liked to do whenever Zayne was around. He was an absolutely gorgeous Warden—a member of the race of creatures who could look human at will, but whose true form was what humans called gargoyles. Wardens were tasked with protecting mankind, hunting what went bump in the night…and during the day. I'd grown up with Zayne and had nursed one heck of a puppy-dog crush on him for years. Bambi shifted, her tail tickling the side of my stomach. I had no idea how Roth had dealt with Bambi crawling all over him. My breath caught as a deep, unforgiving pang hit me in the chest. Without thinking, I reached for the ring with the cracked stone—the ring that had once held the blood of my mother, the Lilith—dangling from my necklace. Feeling the cool metal between my fingers was calming. Not because of the familial bond, since I really didn't claim a relationship with my mother, but because, along with Bambi, it was my last and only link to Astaroth, the Crown Prince of Hell, who had done the most undemonic thing. I lost myself the moment I found you. Roth had sacrificed himself by being the one to hold Paimon, the bastard responsible for wanting to unleash an especially nasty race of demons, in a devil's trap meant to send its captive to Hell. Zayne had been doing the honors of keeping Paimon from escaping, but Roth…he'd taken Zayne's place.

And now he was in the fiery pits. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on the cool table, completely unaware of what Mrs. Cleo was droning on about. Tears burned the back of my throat as I stared at the empty chair in front of me that used to belong to Roth. I closed my eyes. Two weeks. Three hundred and thirty-six hours, give or take a few, had passed since that night in the old gymnasium and not a second had gotten easier. It hurt as if it had happened an hour ago and I wasn't sure if a month or even a year from now would be any different. One of the hardest parts was all the lies. Stacey and Sam had asked a hundred questions when Roth hadn't returned after the night we had located the Lesser Key of Solomon (the ancient book that had the answers to everything we'd needed to know about my mother) and had been caught by Abbot (the leader of the Warden clan in D.C. who had adopted me as a young girl). They'd stopped eventually, but it was still another secret I was keeping from them, two of my closest friends. Despite our friendship, neither of them knew what I was—half Warden, half demon. And neither of them realized that Roth hadn't just been out with mono or changed schools. But sometimes it was easier to think of him that way—to tell myself he was just at another school instead of where he was. The burn moved into my chest, much like the low simmer in my veins that was always present. The need to take a soul, the curse my mother had passed on to me, hadn't diminished one bit over the past two weeks. If anything, it had seemed to increase. The ability to draw the soul out of any creature that had one was why I hadn't ever gotten close to a boy before. Not until Roth had come along. Given that he was a demon, the pesky soul problem was a moot point. He didn't have one. And unlike Abbot and almost all of the Warden clan, even Zayne, Roth hadn't cared that I was a mixed breed. He had…he'd accepted me as I was. Scrubbing my palms over my eyes, I bit the inside of my cheek. When I'd found my repaired and cleaned-up necklace—the one Petr, a Warden who turned out to be my half brother, had broken during his attack on me—at Roth's apartment, I'd clung to the hope that Roth wasn't in the pits after all. That he'd somehow escaped, but with each passing day, that hope flickered out like a candle in the middle of a hurricane. I believed more than anything in this world that if Roth could've come back to me, he would have by now, and that meant. When my chest squeezed painfully, I opened my eyes and slowly let out the breath I'd been holding. The room was a little blurry through the haze of unshed tears. I blinked a couple of times as I slumped back in my seat. Whatever was on the slide projector made no sense to me. Something to do with the circle of life? No, that was The Lion King. I was so going to fail this class. Figuring I should at least attempt to take notes, I picked up my pen and— At the front of the class, the metal legs from a chair scraped across the floor, screeching loudly. A boy exploded out of his chair as if someone had lit a fire under his butt. A faint yellow glow

surrounded him—his aura. I was the only one who could see it, but it sputtered erratically, blinking in and out. Seeing people's auras—a reflection of their souls—was nothing new for me. They were all kinds of colors, sometimes a mixture of more than two, but I'd never seen one waver like that before. I glanced around the room and the mixture of auras glimmered faintly. What the Hell? Mrs. Cleo's hand was frozen above the projector as she frowned. "Dean McDaniel, what in the world are you—" Dean spun on his heel, facing the two guys sitting behind him. They were leaning back in their seats, their arms crossed and lips curved up in identical smirks. Dean's mouth was pressed into a thin line and his face was flushed. My mouth dropped open as he planted one hand on the white tabletop and slammed his other fist into the jaw of the kid behind him. The fleshy smack echoed through the classroom, followed by several surprised gasps. Holy granola bar! I sat up straight as Stacey slapped her hands on our table. "Holy shit balls for Sunday dinner," she whispered, gaping as the boy Dean had punched slumped to the left and hit the floor like a bag of potatoes. I didn't know Dean very well. Hell, I wasn't sure if I'd spoken more than a handful of words to him during my four years in high school, but he was quiet and average, tall and slender, much like Sam. Totally not the kind of kid who'd be voted most likely to knock another guy—a much bigger guy—into next week. "Dean!" shouted Mrs. Cleo, her ample chest rising as she rushed to the wall, flipping the overhead lights on. "What are—?" The other guy shot up like an arrow, hands clenching into meaty fists at his sides. "What the Hell is wrong with you?" He rounded the table, shrugging out of his zipped hoodie. "You want some of this?" Stuff always got real when the clothes started to come off. Dean snickered as he stalked to the aisle. Chairs screeched as students moved out of the way. "Oh, I'm about to get me some of that." "Boy fight!" Stacey exclaimed as she dug around in her bag, pulling out her cell phone. Several other students were doing the same thing. "I so have to get this on camera." "Boys! Stop it right now." Mrs. Cleo smacked her hand against the wall, hitting the intercom wired directly to the front office. A beep sounded and she turned to it frantically. "I need the security guard in room two-oh-four immediately!" Dean launched himself at his opponent, tackling him to the floor. Arms flew as they rolled into the

legs of a nearby table. In the back of the classroom, we were safe, but Stacey and I stood up anyway. A shiver coursed over my skin as Bambi shifted without warning, flicking her tail across my stomach. Stacey stretched up on the tips of her boots, apparently needing a better angle for her phone. "This is." "Bizarre?" I supplied, flinching as the boy got a good hit in, knocking Dean's head back. She arched a brow at me. "I was going to go with awesome." "But they're—" I jumped as the classroom door swung open and banged into the wall. Security officers swarmed the class, heading straight for the melee. One beefy guy wrapped his arms around Dean, dragging him off the other student as Mrs. Cleo buzzed around the room like a nervous hummingbird, clutching her tacky beaded necklace with both hands. A middle-aged security guard knelt beside the boy Dean had punched. Only then did I realize the boy hadn't stirred once since hitting the floor. A trickle of unease, having nothing to do with the way Bambi was moving again, formed in my belly as the guard leaned over the prone boy, placing his head near his chest. The guard jerked back, reaching for the microphone on his shoulder. His face was white as the paper in my notebook. "I need an EMT immediately dispatched. I have a teenage male, approximately seventeen or eighteen years of age. Visible bruising along the skull. He's not breathing." "Oh my God," I whispered, clutching Stacey's arm. A hush descended over the room, quelling the excited chatter. Mrs. Cleo stopped by her desk, her jowls jiggling silently. Stacey sucked in a breath as she lowered her phone. The silence following the urgent call was broken when Dean threw back his head and laughed as the other security guard dragged him from the classroom. Stacey tucked her shoulder-length black hair back behind her ears. She hadn't touched the slice of pizza on her plate or her can of soda. Neither had I. She was probably thinking along the same lines that I was. Principal Blunt and the guidance counselor I'd never really paid attention to had given all the students in the class the option to go home. I didn't have a ride. Morris, the clan's chauffeur, handyman and all-around awesome guy, was still on the no-ride list with me since, the last time we'd been in a car together, a possessed cabdriver had tried to play chicken with our vehicles. And I didn't want to wake up Zayne or Nicolai—for the most part, full-blooded Wardens slept deeply during the day, entombed in their hard shells. And Stacey didn't want to be home with her baby brother. So here we were, in the cafeteria. But neither of us had an appetite. "I'm officially traumatized," she said, taking a deep breath. "Seriously."

"It's not like the guy is dead," Sam replied around a mouthful of pizza. His wire-frame glasses slipped to the tip of his nose. Curly brown hair flopped over his forehead. His soul, a faint mixture of yellow and blue, flickered just like everyone else's had since this morning, winking in and out as if it was playing peekaboo with me. "I heard he was revived in the ambulance." "That still doesn't change the fact that we saw someone get punched in the face so hard that they died right in front of us," she insisted, eyes wide. "Or are you missing the point?" Sam swallowed the bite of pizza. "How do you know he really died? Just because a wannabe police officer says that someone's not breathing doesn't mean that's true." He glanced over at my plate. "You gonna eat that?" I shook my head at him, sort of dumbfounded. "It's all yours." A second later, he snatched the pizza with the little pepperoni cubes off my plate. His gaze flickered up to mine. "Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded as he munched away. "Sorry. I know I don't sound very sympathetic." "Ya think?" Stacey muttered drily. A dull ache flared behind my eyes as I reached for my soda. I needed caffeine. I also needed to figure out what the Hell was up with everyone's auras doing the wonky thing. The colorful shading around a human represented what kind of soul they were rocking: white for an utterly pure soul, pastels were the most common and usually indicated a good soul, and the darker the colors got, the more questionable the status of one's soul became. And if a human didn't have that telltale halo around him, that meant he was on Team No Soul. I.e., he was a demon. I wasn't doing much tagging anymore—another nifty ability I had thanks to my mixed heritage. If I touched a demon, it was equivalent to sticking a neon sign on their body, which made it easier for Wardens to search them out. Well, it didn't work on Upper Level demons. Not much did. I didn't stop because of what had happened with Paimon and then being forbidden to tag. Abbot had ungrounded me for life after the night in the gymnasium, but it felt wrong to randomly tag demons, especially now that I knew many of them might be harmless. When I did tag, I went for the Posers, since they were dangerous and had a habit of biting people, and left the Fiends alone. And truthfully, the change in my tagging routine was all thanks to Roth. "It's just that those two idiots were probably messing with Dean," Sam continued as he finished off the pizza in a nanosecond. "People snap." "People usually don't have fists that could be considered lethal weapons," Stacey retorted.

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16 of 16 people found the following review helpful. Awesome, Sexier and Even Better Than The First By Kris I loved this book. I laughed, I cried, I swooned. This series is really getting good and I can't wait to find out what's going to happen next. The cliffhanger at the end was a shocker. Wow, I did not see that coming. Half-demon/half-warden, Layla, is in a world of trouble in this installment of The Dark Elements series. Her demon prince ex, Roth is back, Zayne is finally showing an interest in her and it is suspected that the ritual worked and there was a Lilin born. Some of her classmates are acting strange and violent and it is feared that the Lilin is the cause. Roth returned from hell on a mission to find it and he teams up with Layla and Zayne but things are not as they seem and the Warden who raised her no longer trusts her and she's not sure herself if she should be trusted. I have to say that I loved both Zayne and Roth in this book. It's clear both men have it bad for Layla and she returns those feelings for both of them. I liked Zayne a hell of a lot better in this book. He is sexier and definitely more interesting. Although, he has some hot scenes with Layla, Roth still has my vote. He is so badass and although he is very frustrating in the beginning of the story, he has some of the sweetest, most romantic lines later. It's obvious Layla loves Zayne but she's in love with Roth. This series just keeps getting better. I recommend. 10 of 12 people found the following review helpful. The love triangle overshadows an INCREDIBLE world By Krista I waited awhile before writing this review. I actually read my ARC of Stone Cold Touch before it came out, and had to take some time to process my thoughts about the book and about the contest that is still going on to determine which guy Layla will pick in the end – Zayne or Roth. I address my personal choice later on in my review, in case you’re curious. I have very mixed feelings about everything surrounding this book and, I guess, the series as a whole. Although bad guys were defeated in White Hot Kiss, it appears that they were just the tip of the iceberg. A Scarier, badder guy is here, but Layla has lost her ability to see auras, which means, she can’t tell who it is. On top of the short-circuiting of her powers, she’s trying to come to terms with her feelings for both Roth, who she thought was gone forever, and Zayne, the boy who she has loved forever and now appears to reciprocate those feelings. And, all the Wardens in her clan now look at her with wariness and outright disdain. It’s a lot for Layla to process, especially when Roth comes back unexpectedly. I LOVE this world. Like, draw-hearts-around-it-in-the-margin-of-my-notebook love. Jen Armentrout has come up with some pretty incredible characters in her books, but I personally think that the Wardens take the cake. Their abilities and purpose for being here are so awesome, but beyond that, they’re not wholly good or bad like you would think. Like humans, the Wardens are shades of both. Some like Zayne, Dez, Jasmine and Nicoli are inherently good. Others, like Petr and Maddox seem inherently bad. And then there are those that straddle the line like Abbot – his actions are horrible sometime, but you know they come from a place that you can maybe understand a little (like, the desire to protect your child).

I love the different demons that are in this world too. We get to see even more of them in Stone Cold Touch. Some are sexy, some are scary, and some are downright evil. Again, Jen Armentrout has the reader questioning what is really “bad,” and what is the appropriate way to deal with the bad in the world. One solution (eradication) doesn’t always fit, yet that’s the assumption the Wardens have operated under forever. When Layla begins to question that, she’s put on the outs with the rest of her clan. It’s understandable, and yet frustrating. I guess it’s time to address the elephant in the room. The love triangle. Sadly, I feel like the awesomeness of the world and the characters in it are being completely overshadowed by The Love Triangle. All three characters involved – Layla, Roth and Zayne – don’t seem to have much substance on their own anymore. They have become defined entirely by their role in the triangle, which upsets me so much. All three of them are incredibly dynamic in their own right, but we never had a chance to see them shine by themselves. The main plot point – finding out who the Lilin is – was buried under the ongoing drama of which guy is the one for Layla. There was a lot of: Roth: “Let’s go check out the scary basement for clues.” Layla: I shouldn’t say yes because Zayne would be upset, but I still care about Roth even though I don’t want to, but Zayne is trusting me, but Roth is so hot and I shouldn’t be thinking about Zayne when I’m with Roth… oh right. There’s evil afoot. “Okay.” And Zayne: “What do you mean you can’t see auras now?” Layla: Roth was wondering the same thing earlier. No. Don’t think about Roth right now. Ohmygoodness, Zayne’s eyes are beautiful and I might actually have a real chance with him now, but only if I can kick Roth out of my brain. Roth – DAMMIT there I go again. Crap. Hunky, gorgeous Zayne who I think I still love is waiting for an answer. What was the question again? It honestly made me want to scream more than once. Layla being with either boy is fraught with problems. Roth is the Prince of Hell and Layla has been trained to hate and kill demons like him. That’s a big problem. Zayne has a pure soul, and if Layla isn’t careful, she can suck it out of him and kill him. That, too, is a big problem. I SO wish that Jen had never created one of them so that the story could stand on its own feet, and Layla could have the side challenge of figuring out how to be with the boy she loves. Instead, you have these two impossible relationships on top of this cool mystery, and it just seems now like way too much. So, the main story is now on the periphery and The Love Triangle has taken center stage. I wanted a story about gargoyles fighting evil. I didn’t get much of that here. Layla never fully changes form, which was so disappointing. I wanted to see that so badly after she discovered that ability at the end of White Hot Kiss. Roth and Zayne only change forms once each, and both times, only for a very short time. There’s not a ton of evil-fighting that takes place in Stone Cold Touch. I wish Roth hadn’t come back so early in the story. Perhaps then it would’ve given Zayne and Layla a chance to kick some butt together before The Love Triangle happened. To cast an even bigger spotlight on the relationship drama, the choice of which guy should Layla choose has been left up to the masses. It’s being reduced to a popularity contest – a challenge of which camp cares enough to clear their cache enough times in the span of three weeks to ensure

a win for their “team.” I don’t know about you all, but I think Jen Armentrout has done a pretty spectacular job so far writing endings to series that have blown my mind. I’d rather the ending of this one sprang completely from her brain too. I want to know who JEN would pick for Layla (although, after reading Stone Cold Touch, I’m pretty sure I can guess who she voted for). Me? Although swearing I wouldn’t vote, of course I did end up casting my ballot. Hypocritical of me, I know. But, I did vote for Zayne. Let’s face it – Roth will win. No doubt. He’s the quintessential bad boy with a heart, and people really go for that. I voted for Zayne because he’s got staying power. He’s been there for Layla since she was little, always protecting her and loving her from afar. They’ve discovered a way for them to be together – like TOGETHER together – and he’s willing to forsake his clan, his family – his very life – for her. That gets my blood racing. Jen Armentrout is an incredible writer, and that’s evident in Stone Cold Touch. I had many feels while reading it – happy, sad, mad, frustrated… they ran the gamut. I will still read anything this woman writes. And, this world is amazing. Maybe we can get a spin-off for the losing guy? 8 of 10 people found the following review helpful. Hey, Stephanie Meyers, this is how you do a love triangle. By Cheryl Koch Hey, Stephanie Meyers, this is how you do a love triangle. I tried to read the Twilight books but they were not for me. OR I should clarify that I attempted to read the first book. I did see the movies but only after the second one came out. I just never really felt the romance between Bella and Edward or even Jacob. Edward made me feel uncomfortable. Yet, I really felt and experienced the passion with Layla, Roth and Zayne. The heat was coming off the pages of the book. Although this time it was more between Layla and Zayne. Not that I am complaining as these two were hot together. This book was really good. This is because the banter between Roth and Zayne was off the charts. They were whipping the one line zingers at each other so quickly I almost got whip lash. I was laughing at the insults they were giving each other. Layla's friends rocked too. They had bigger parts in the story as well. Also, it was cool to get to see the Warderns shape shift more. Layla and her powers are really growing and changing and making her very interesting. The way this book ended has me even more antsy to get my hands on the next book in this series. See all 295 customer reviews...

STONE COLD TOUCH (THE DARK ELEMENTS BOOK 2) BY JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT PDF

So, merely be right here, locate the book Stone Cold Touch (The Dark Elements Book 2) By Jennifer L. Armentrout now and also read that quickly. Be the initial to read this e-book Stone Cold Touch (The Dark Elements Book 2) By Jennifer L. Armentrout by downloading and install in the link. We have a few other books to read in this site. So, you can discover them additionally quickly. Well, now we have actually done to supply you the very best e-book to read today, this Stone Cold Touch (The Dark Elements Book 2) By Jennifer L. Armentrout is truly appropriate for you. Never ever dismiss that you need this publication Stone Cold Touch (The Dark Elements Book 2) By Jennifer L. Armentrout to make far better life. On the internet e-book Stone Cold Touch (The Dark Elements Book 2) By Jennifer L. Armentrout will truly give easy of every little thing to check out and also take the benefits. Review "The second in the Dark Elements series is an absolutely phenomenal, edge-of-your-seat thrill ride." ---RT Book Reviews About the Author Jennifer L. Armentrout is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Covenant series and the Lux series. She writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance, and she also publishes adult romantic fiction, including the Gamble Brothers series, under the pseudonym J. Lynn. Saskia Maarleveld is an experienced audiobook narrator and voice-over actress based in New York City. Raised in New Zealand and France, she is highly skilled with accents and dialects, and many of her books have been narrated entirely in accents other than her own. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Ten seconds after Mrs. Cleo moseyed on into biology class, flipped on the projector and turned off the lights, Bambi decided she was no longer comfortable where she was currently curled around my waist. Sliding along my stomach, the very active demonic snake tattoo was not a fan of sitting still for any length of time, especially not during a boring lecture on the food chain. I stiffened, resisting the urge to giggle like a hyena as she cruised up between my breasts and rested her diamond-shaped head on my shoulder. Five more seconds passed while Stacey stared at me, her brows raised. I forced a tight smile, knowing Bambi wasn't done yet. Nope. Her tongue flicked out, tickling the side of my neck. I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling a giggle as I squirmed in my seat. "Are you on drugs?" Stacey asked in a low voice as she brushed thick bangs out of her dark eyes. "Or is my left boob hanging out and saying hello to the world? Because as my best friend, you're

obligated to tell me." Even though I knew her boob was in her shirt, or at least I hoped so since her V-neck sweater was pretty low cut, my gaze dipped as I lowered my hand. "Your boob is fine. I'm just…antsy." She wrinkled her nose at me before returning her attention to the front of the classroom. Drawing in a deep breath, I prayed that Bambi would remain where she was for the rest of the class. With her on my skin, it was like having a mad case of the tics. Twitching every five seconds wasn't going to help my popularity, or lack thereof. Luckily, with the much cooler weather and Thanksgiving fast approaching, I could get away with wearing turtlenecks and long sleeves, which hid Bambi from sight. Well, as long as she didn't decide to crawl up on my face. Something she liked to do whenever Zayne was around. He was an absolutely gorgeous Warden—a member of the race of creatures who could look human at will, but whose true form was what humans called gargoyles. Wardens were tasked with protecting mankind, hunting what went bump in the night…and during the day. I'd grown up with Zayne and had nursed one heck of a puppy-dog crush on him for years. Bambi shifted, her tail tickling the side of my stomach. I had no idea how Roth had dealt with Bambi crawling all over him. My breath caught as a deep, unforgiving pang hit me in the chest. Without thinking, I reached for the ring with the cracked stone—the ring that had once held the blood of my mother, the Lilith—dangling from my necklace. Feeling the cool metal between my fingers was calming. Not because of the familial bond, since I really didn't claim a relationship with my mother, but because, along with Bambi, it was my last and only link to Astaroth, the Crown Prince of Hell, who had done the most undemonic thing. I lost myself the moment I found you. Roth had sacrificed himself by being the one to hold Paimon, the bastard responsible for wanting to unleash an especially nasty race of demons, in a devil's trap meant to send its captive to Hell. Zayne had been doing the honors of keeping Paimon from escaping, but Roth…he'd taken Zayne's place. And now he was in the fiery pits. Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on the cool table, completely unaware of what Mrs. Cleo was droning on about. Tears burned the back of my throat as I stared at the empty chair in front of me that used to belong to Roth. I closed my eyes. Two weeks. Three hundred and thirty-six hours, give or take a few, had passed since that night in the old gymnasium and not a second had gotten easier. It hurt as if it had happened an hour ago and I wasn't sure if a month or even a year from now would be any different. One of the hardest parts was all the lies. Stacey and Sam had asked a hundred questions when Roth hadn't returned after the night we had located the Lesser Key of Solomon (the ancient book that had the answers to everything we'd needed to know about my mother) and had been caught

by Abbot (the leader of the Warden clan in D.C. who had adopted me as a young girl). They'd stopped eventually, but it was still another secret I was keeping from them, two of my closest friends. Despite our friendship, neither of them knew what I was—half Warden, half demon. And neither of them realized that Roth hadn't just been out with mono or changed schools. But sometimes it was easier to think of him that way—to tell myself he was just at another school instead of where he was. The burn moved into my chest, much like the low simmer in my veins that was always present. The need to take a soul, the curse my mother had passed on to me, hadn't diminished one bit over the past two weeks. If anything, it had seemed to increase. The ability to draw the soul out of any creature that had one was why I hadn't ever gotten close to a boy before. Not until Roth had come along. Given that he was a demon, the pesky soul problem was a moot point. He didn't have one. And unlike Abbot and almost all of the Warden clan, even Zayne, Roth hadn't cared that I was a mixed breed. He had…he'd accepted me as I was. Scrubbing my palms over my eyes, I bit the inside of my cheek. When I'd found my repaired and cleaned-up necklace—the one Petr, a Warden who turned out to be my half brother, had broken during his attack on me—at Roth's apartment, I'd clung to the hope that Roth wasn't in the pits after all. That he'd somehow escaped, but with each passing day, that hope flickered out like a candle in the middle of a hurricane. I believed more than anything in this world that if Roth could've come back to me, he would have by now, and that meant. When my chest squeezed painfully, I opened my eyes and slowly let out the breath I'd been holding. The room was a little blurry through the haze of unshed tears. I blinked a couple of times as I slumped back in my seat. Whatever was on the slide projector made no sense to me. Something to do with the circle of life? No, that was The Lion King. I was so going to fail this class. Figuring I should at least attempt to take notes, I picked up my pen and— At the front of the class, the metal legs from a chair scraped across the floor, screeching loudly. A boy exploded out of his chair as if someone had lit a fire under his butt. A faint yellow glow surrounded him—his aura. I was the only one who could see it, but it sputtered erratically, blinking in and out. Seeing people's auras—a reflection of their souls—was nothing new for me. They were all kinds of colors, sometimes a mixture of more than two, but I'd never seen one waver like that before. I glanced around the room and the mixture of auras glimmered faintly. What the Hell? Mrs. Cleo's hand was frozen above the projector as she frowned. "Dean McDaniel, what in the world are you—" Dean spun on his heel, facing the two guys sitting behind him. They were leaning back in their seats, their arms crossed and lips curved up in identical smirks. Dean's mouth was pressed into a thin line and his face was flushed. My mouth dropped open as he planted one hand on the white

tabletop and slammed his other fist into the jaw of the kid behind him. The fleshy smack echoed through the classroom, followed by several surprised gasps. Holy granola bar! I sat up straight as Stacey slapped her hands on our table. "Holy shit balls for Sunday dinner," she whispered, gaping as the boy Dean had punched slumped to the left and hit the floor like a bag of potatoes. I didn't know Dean very well. Hell, I wasn't sure if I'd spoken more than a handful of words to him during my four years in high school, but he was quiet and average, tall and slender, much like Sam. Totally not the kind of kid who'd be voted most likely to knock another guy—a much bigger guy—into next week. "Dean!" shouted Mrs. Cleo, her ample chest rising as she rushed to the wall, flipping the overhead lights on. "What are—?" The other guy shot up like an arrow, hands clenching into meaty fists at his sides. "What the Hell is wrong with you?" He rounded the table, shrugging out of his zipped hoodie. "You want some of this?" Stuff always got real when the clothes started to come off. Dean snickered as he stalked to the aisle. Chairs screeched as students moved out of the way. "Oh, I'm about to get me some of that." "Boy fight!" Stacey exclaimed as she dug around in her bag, pulling out her cell phone. Several other students were doing the same thing. "I so have to get this on camera." "Boys! Stop it right now." Mrs. Cleo smacked her hand against the wall, hitting the intercom wired directly to the front office. A beep sounded and she turned to it frantically. "I need the security guard in room two-oh-four immediately!" Dean launched himself at his opponent, tackling him to the floor. Arms flew as they rolled into the legs of a nearby table. In the back of the classroom, we were safe, but Stacey and I stood up anyway. A shiver coursed over my skin as Bambi shifted without warning, flicking her tail across my stomach. Stacey stretched up on the tips of her boots, apparently needing a better angle for her phone. "This is." "Bizarre?" I supplied, flinching as the boy got a good hit in, knocking Dean's head back. She arched a brow at me. "I was going to go with awesome." "But they're—" I jumped as the classroom door swung open and banged into the wall.

Security officers swarmed the class, heading straight for the melee. One beefy guy wrapped his arms around Dean, dragging him off the other student as Mrs. Cleo buzzed around the room like a nervous hummingbird, clutching her tacky beaded necklace with both hands. A middle-aged security guard knelt beside the boy Dean had punched. Only then did I realize the boy hadn't stirred once since hitting the floor. A trickle of unease, having nothing to do with the way Bambi was moving again, formed in my belly as the guard leaned over the prone boy, placing his head near his chest. The guard jerked back, reaching for the microphone on his shoulder. His face was white as the paper in my notebook. "I need an EMT immediately dispatched. I have a teenage male, approximately seventeen or eighteen years of age. Visible bruising along the skull. He's not breathing." "Oh my God," I whispered, clutching Stacey's arm. A hush descended over the room, quelling the excited chatter. Mrs. Cleo stopped by her desk, her jowls jiggling silently. Stacey sucked in a breath as she lowered her phone. The silence following the urgent call was broken when Dean threw back his head and laughed as the other security guard dragged him from the classroom. Stacey tucked her shoulder-length black hair back behind her ears. She hadn't touched the slice of pizza on her plate or her can of soda. Neither had I. She was probably thinking along the same lines that I was. Principal Blunt and the guidance counselor I'd never really paid attention to had given all the students in the class the option to go home. I didn't have a ride. Morris, the clan's chauffeur, handyman and all-around awesome guy, was still on the no-ride list with me since, the last time we'd been in a car together, a possessed cabdriver had tried to play chicken with our vehicles. And I didn't want to wake up Zayne or Nicolai—for the most part, full-blooded Wardens slept deeply during the day, entombed in their hard shells. And Stacey didn't want to be home with her baby brother. So here we were, in the cafeteria. But neither of us had an appetite. "I'm officially traumatized," she said, taking a deep breath. "Seriously." "It's not like the guy is dead," Sam replied around a mouthful of pizza. His wire-frame glasses slipped to the tip of his nose. Curly brown hair flopped over his forehead. His soul, a faint mixture of yellow and blue, flickered just like everyone else's had since this morning, winking in and out as if it was playing peekaboo with me. "I heard he was revived in the ambulance." "That still doesn't change the fact that we saw someone get punched in the face so hard that they died right in front of us," she insisted, eyes wide. "Or are you missing the point?" Sam swallowed the bite of pizza. "How do you know he really died? Just because a wannabe police officer says that someone's not breathing doesn't mean that's true." He glanced over at my plate. "You gonna eat that?"

I shook my head at him, sort of dumbfounded. "It's all yours." A second later, he snatched the pizza with the little pepperoni cubes off my plate. His gaze flickered up to mine. "Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded as he munched away. "Sorry. I know I don't sound very sympathetic." "Ya think?" Stacey muttered drily. A dull ache flared behind my eyes as I reached for my soda. I needed caffeine. I also needed to figure out what the Hell was up with everyone's auras doing the wonky thing. The colorful shading around a human represented what kind of soul they were rocking: white for an utterly pure soul, pastels were the most common and usually indicated a good soul, and the darker the colors got, the more questionable the status of one's soul became. And if a human didn't have that telltale halo around him, that meant he was on Team No Soul. I.e., he was a demon. I wasn't doing much tagging anymore—another nifty ability I had thanks to my mixed heritage. If I touched a demon, it was equivalent to sticking a neon sign on their body, which made it easier for Wardens to search them out. Well, it didn't work on Upper Level demons. Not much did. I didn't stop because of what had happened with Paimon and then being forbidden to tag. Abbot had ungrounded me for life after the night in the gymnasium, but it felt wrong to randomly tag demons, especially now that I knew many of them might be harmless. When I did tag, I went for the Posers, since they were dangerous and had a habit of biting people, and left the Fiends alone. And truthfully, the change in my tagging routine was all thanks to Roth. "It's just that those two idiots were probably messing with Dean," Sam continued as he finished off the pizza in a nanosecond. "People snap." "People usually don't have fists that could be considered lethal weapons," Stacey retorted.

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