Hunger by Barbara J. Hancock

Author:Barbara J. Hancock [Hancock, Barbara J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: American Light Romantic Fiction, Romance - Paranormal, Paranormal, Fiction, Romance, Horror & Ghost Stories, Sacred Music, Romance & Sagas, Fiction - Romance
Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Published: 2010-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Holly watched her blood—Dillon’s? Winters’?—swirl down the drain. She was too tired to think of Psycho. Her arm was tender, but there was only a pink slash where the bullet had tracked.

Winters had shot her and some of her life was literally draining away. She was too numb to care.

She had saved Dillon.

The monster who had killed her sister and her father. The monster who had left her with a twisted half-life. The monster who had stolen her mother.

If she hadn’t stopped Winters, her mother would be lost and she would be left with nothing but pain and unanswered questions. It didn’t make it okay. She felt like a traitor. Dread came in to fill up the empty spaces the blood had left behind because she didn’t know if it had only been for her mother’s sake.

Her head accepted that rationalization, but her heart sighed and the whisper in her chest sounded suspiciously like Dillon’s name.

The sight of her Maker on the ground and helpless should have been cause for celebration, but she suspected her cells would have mourned if he had died. Dillon had power over her body. She wished it was magic…something she could scoff at. Unfortunately, it seemed much more real. A tangible, physical threat as solid as a noose around her neck.

Holly sucked in a shaky breath and let it out as she washed. She wanted to go to Winters and beg him to understand, to forgive her for saving Dillon. Problem was, she couldn’t quite forgive herself.

This was real. She couldn’t click her heels together and wish for home. She couldn’t make a garlic clove bikini and wear it everywhere she went. There was nothing she could pin her hopes on except pure determination.

She had to trust that her body wouldn’t ultimately betray her. She had to believe, to continue, to fight.

It didn’t matter that she was tired. It didn’t matter that she was hurting. It didn’t matter that Winters hated her and Dillon didn’t. Oh, how he didn’t. She tried not to remember the look in Dillon’s blue eyes. That look that said she was his salvation and his heart’s desire all rolled into a petite little package of impossible-to-resist.

She succeeded in pushing that look from her mind only because the face that truly ruled her thoughts was one with dark, brown eyes. Those eyes didn’t adore, they accused. She’d used them like a mirror before. The reflection she carried with her now in her mind’s eye hurt her to her very soul. He saw her as a traitor, a monster, a thing to be killed.

More pink water went down the drain and it was accompanied by tears.

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