Dark Angel by Bridget Essex

Author:Bridget Essex
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Rose and Star Press

I thought for a very long moment that she wasn’t going to reply. She stared up into my eyes, her lips in that calculating flat line again, her nostrils flaring as she breathed slowly and steadily, her stomach rising and falling against me. But I held my place, I held her gaze, and I did not move.

And after what seemed like an eternity, she blinked. She breathed out.

And she whispered in her low voice: “I felt you.”

My pulse began pounding even louder through me. A million answering questions to that reply clamored for attention inside of me, but I swallowed them all down. I drummed up the most patience I could muster, and I kept my mouth shut.

I waited.

She breathed out again, shaking her head a little. “I felt you. You were afraid,” she said softly. “You drew me to you. I had to save you.”

“What—” I whispered, but she was shaking her head again, pushing against me gently this time as she rose. I moved off of her, to the side, and sat on my legs as she got up, her body long and lean and lank, bending down in one graceful motion to retrieve her pants and panties.

“You don’t have to go,” I told her in a small voice, but she sighed, almost regretfully, I thought, and turned away from me to pull her pants on.

“This is not the time or place for intercourse,” she told me flatly. Intercourse. It was such a clinical word. Hurt roared through me, followed closely by intense anger. Hadn’t she been the one to come to my room? And unless she’d stopped by to borrow a shirt, unbuttoning those buttons with those smoldering eyes could really have only meant one thing.

“You can’t keep running out on me,” I told her then flatly. “I’m trapped here. We feel this thing, whatever it is, between us, and we have to figure it out. I have to figure everything out,” I amended, “because I’m in the dark about everything, and if this is my life now, I need some explanations.”

“No, Cassandra,” she said softly. She’d zipped and buttoned her pants, and she’d left her shirt hanging open in the front. A delicious few inches of flesh was visible between the two halves of her unbuttoned shirt, and she made no move to cover herself. My eyes were drawn to the swell and curve of her breasts that I could see, but I struggled against it and raised my eyes to her gaze.

There was something I couldn’t quite understand there. Something at war in herself.

She turned from me, glancing up at the ceiling, at the walls, all around her.

“I have been gone from this place for fifty years,” she said, reaching out and trailing one long, perfect finger down the stained wood of closest post of the bed. She was gazing at me as she spoke the words, growling them out. “And yesterday, I came back. And I came back seeking vengeance for what had been done to me, for the injustice that had been leveled against me.

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