Maria Lima by Matters of Blood

Author:Matters of Blood [Blood, Matters of]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2010-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

My nose twitched, the smell of waxy smoke reached me, teasing me awake. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was.

The soft glow of a pair of Victorian-style wrought-iron floor lamps created the perfect ambience, the purple watered-silk shades diffusing the glare of electric light. I was lying on a soft-looking overstuffed couch, in a matching purple, cushions piled under my head and my feet. The couch sat just under the front windows and facing a doorway that must lead to the bedroom.

In front of the couch, a rustic wooden coffee table just a few shades lighter than the polished hardwood floor displayed a varied array of candles, surrounding a handmade ceramic bowl filled with an assortment of individually wrapped chocolate truffles. One of the candles had just extinguished; its grey-white plume of smoke rising to the ceiling like an unnaturally thin ghost. A bottle of wine stood in front of the bowl, flanked by two wine stems. Adam must have brought me into his house.

An afghan covered me. The pain in the back of my head was a dull ache, nothing I couldn't handle, but still annoying. I shuddered as reality washed over me and the memory of what I'd almost done returned. I'd been a scant second from tearing out Adam's throat. Definitely not a way to win friends and seduce a possible lover. I turned my head and scanned the room, not moving from my supine position. No sign of him. Had he completely freaked and bolted?

After a few moments, I realized I was hearing something other than the normal creaks and groans of a country house. Voices. Outside on the porch.

I struggled to sit up without hurting. That wasn't going to be easy. Every muscle ached as if I'd been beaten by an expert. Trouble with channeling raw power was that you paid for it, usually in spades. I'd known that going in, but figured the risk was worth the effort. Now I wasn't so sure.

I carefully swung my feet to the floor, waiting to see if I was dizzy or disoriented. I wasn't, but I realized I was in stocking feet.

I walked to the front window, moving as slowly as if I were driving a Ferrari through a school zone. My engine wanted to rev, but my body said “no way."

The blinds were drawn and I couldn't see a thing. I slid over to the front door, which stood slightly ajar. Through the two-inch space, I could see the screen door was closed. I put my eye to the gap.

Adam stood to my right on the dark porch, his back to me, hand to his ear. He was on the phone.

I strained to hear but the words were muffled as if I were listening through a thick wall. I rubbed at my ears and tried again. Nothing. I couldn't be sure if there were even words.

This was stupid. I swung the door open. Adam turned without a sound.

I started to say something, then thought better of it.

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