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The Host_ A Novel - Stephenie Meyer [268]

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His eyes rested briefly on the tall redhead in the back, who was still staring at me.

“Might as well get that out of the way,” the small dark man at Nate’s elbow said.

Nate shot a suspicious glance across our little line. “Okay. Rob’s right. Let’s get this out there.” He took a deep breath. “Now, you all just take it easy and hear us out. Calmly, please. This upsets people sometimes.”

“Every time,” the one named Rob muttered. His hand drifted to the holster on his thigh.

“What?” Jared asked in a flat voice.

Nate sighed and then gestured to the tall man with the ginger red hair. The man stepped forward, a wry smile on his face. He had freckles, like me, only thousands more. They were scattered so thick across his face that he looked dark skinned, though he was fair. His eyes were dark-navy blue, maybe.

“This here is Burns. Now, he’s with us, so don’t go crazy. He’s my best friend-saved my life a hundred times. He’s one of our family, and we don’t take kindly to it when people try to kill him.”

One of the women slowly pulled her gun out and held it pointed at the ground.

The redhead spoke for the first time in a distinctly gentle tenor voice. “No, it’s okay, Nate. See? They’ve got one of their own.” He pointed straight at me, and Ian tensed. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s gone native.”

Burns grinned at me, then crossed the empty space, the no-man’s-land between the two tribes, with his hand stretched out toward me.

I stepped out from around Ian, ignoring his muttered warning, abruptly comfortable and sure.

I liked the way Burns had phrased it. Gone native.

Burns stopped in front of me, lowering his hand a bit to compensate for the considerable difference in our heights. I took his hand-it was hard and callused next to my delicate skin-and shook it.

“Burns Living Flowers,” he introduced himself.

My eyes widened at his name. Fire World-how unexpected.

“Wanderer,” I told him.

“It’s… extraordinary to meet you, Wanderer. And here I thought I was one of a kind.”

“Not even close,” I said, thinking of Sunny back in the caves. Perhaps we were none of us as rare as we thought.

He raised an eyebrow at my answer, intrigued.

“Is that so?” he said. “Well, maybe there’s some hope for this planet, after all.”

“It’s a strange world,” I murmured, more to myself than to the other native soul.

“The strangest,” he agreed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

STEPHENIE MEYER graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in English literature. She lives with her husband and three sons in Arizona. Read more about Stephenie and her other books at www.stepheniemeyer.com.

Table of Contents

The Host

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

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