Damned and Desperate by Tara West

Author:Tara West [West, Tara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781507655627
Google: o28DrgEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2015-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

Callum O’Connor

I had no idea how much time had passed since the spider had taken my nettle, as the jug of wine had dulled my senses. Cara had stayed with me, scolding me for drinking too much. She’d made a good companion, though, despite the fact she refused to refill my jug. She hummed softly as she tidied my room and then forced me to lie down while she checked my bandage. Her presence here made me question, and not for the first time, what this angel had done to get sent to Hell. Surely, God had to have made a mistake in judgment.

She continued to hum while she pulled back the gauze on my wound. I vaguely remembered the tune Amazing Grace, surprised to be hearing it in Hell. Didn’t this girl realize there was no grace for her? For any of us?

I leaned back, gazing into her soft brown eyes. She smelled of the spicy sweet ambrosia fruit, and the warmth radiating off her skin was like a beam of sunshine. I wondered what those full lips of hers would feel like pressed against mine. What it would feel like to take her in my arms and roll her over on the bed. I must have been drunk, really drunk, because for the first time in a century, I was seriously contemplating bedding a woman. Not that it would have worked. I was too much a dragon, and she had no outward appearances of a demon at all. My scales would chafe her smooth skin, and she would choke on my breath. I did my best to push back the rising tide of desire. It would do me no good to pine over a woman I could never have. Besides, I had every intention of leaving her cult far behind me once I recovered enough to escape.

“What is the matter, Callum?” She frowned as she rewrapped the gauze around my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I rasped, trying not to scorch her with the heat from my breath.

She shook her head, smiling. “Looking after you.”

“I mean what are you doing in Hell?”

Her smile faded, the skin around her full lips tightening as if being pulled by an invisible tether. “I killed my three best friends.” Her voice cracked like splintering ice.

I should have taken her verbal cues as a sign to drop the subject, but a nagging curiosity urged me forward. “Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as a killer.”

She leaned against the stone wall, resting her cheek on the surface. “I was driving drunk. They were my passengers. The car exploded, and we all burned to death.”

Dear God, what a horrible way to die, burned to death like a witch at the stake.

When a tear slid down her cheek, I berated myself for pushing her too far. Though it did give me a small degree of comfort, knowing she was still capable of grief. Proof this hellish existence hadn’t stripped away her humanity. Because if she could grieve, she could love.

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