Claimed by my Dark Angel: A Forbidden Paranormal Romance (Saints to Sinners Book 1) by Fiona Darling

Author:Fiona Darling [Darling, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2020-09-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Gideon

“What is this place?” I ask Sophie, who’s standing next to me on the sidewalk with guilt and something more severe creasing her brow. She looks morose, and as her mate, I endeavor to make her happy. Darkness clings to this place, and it leeches into my sweet Sophie, robbing her of her joy.

That rubs me the wrong way.

I want nothing more than to carry her back to my apartment where we’re safe and happy. But the gravity of this place, it’s significance can’t be denied, and I can gather all that without even knowing what it is.

To me, it just looks like a shabby, tired-looking apartment complex in a less than desirable neighborhood somewhere between Seattle and Tacoma. But of course, there is more to it than that otherwise we wouldn’t be here, and I would be able to shake this uneasy sensation an angel always gets when something isn’t quite right.

“Where are we?” I ask my ward again, this time with more bite in my words. She flings a pitiful look at me, one that I’m surprised contains tears. “Sophie…”

I gather her in my arms, and she leans into me as though I’m the only solid ground and she might float away to the sea if she doesn’t cling to me tight enough. I know the feeling all too well, only my solid ground was alcohol. It sounds stupid now, now that I have her in my arms.

She pulls back in my hold to lock eyes with me, and at that moment, I see the fear lurking there. I’d tear the entire apartment building down if I thought it would banish that darkness that’s clearly gnawing at her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the address when I gave it to you.”

I blink and spare a swift glance to the complex, as if to jog a memory that isn’t there. I shake my head in defeat. “I don’t know this place, should I?”

“You should. It’s Elise’s apartment…or it was.”

A tremor rattles my body. Elise’s apartment? No, that’s impossible. “Sophie, Elise was homeless. She lived on the streets.”

I’m confident in the validity of my statement. The handful of times I had seen Elise in the last couple of years, she was sleeping in the back alleys of Seattle, usually in the Belltown district. Her hair was always greasy from weeks without a shower, her complexion yellow and dry for lack of food and drugs that ravaged her body, and she carried a filthy sleeping bag on her back and a backpack filled with her few possessions. Back in those first months together when her stubbornness hadn’t outlasted mine when I would find her passed out from overdosing, I would carry her to my apartment. When she woke she never stayed, in fact, she acted like I had carried her to the bowels of hell.

Elise truly detested me, and the friendship I offered her. She would rather live in the streets than stay with me. Whenever she tore out of my apartment like a bat from hell, I followed her to make sure she was safe.

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