Speaking of the Devil by Meg Collett

Author:Meg Collett [Collett, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meg Collett
Published: 2015-04-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

“Clark.”

Clark was so exhausted that he didn’t dream when he fell asleep. Instead, he landed into unconsciousness with a heavy thud and a snore. It could have been a minute or a year that he was asleep. But deep in the hazy darkness of sleep, he recognized the voice saying his name. It was Sophia.

He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to recall the dream he must have been having. Slowly, he shifted his head against the pillow, rustling his half-dried hair. Camille lay beside him, her curves pressing soft and warm against him.

Clark’s throat tightened, and his stomach pitched. Camille didn’t have curves; the Throne angel had jutted angles and razor-sharp turns. She was a Formula 1 racecar; she certainly wasn’t warm and soft.

He turned his head farther. Camille’s back was to him, her strawberry blond hair spilling onto the pillow and his arm, like strands of silk across his skin. But Camille didn’t have strawberry blond hair, and the room was starting to roil beneath him as his anxiety built up. Something was wrong with this dream…

…Namely, he was awake.

The scent hit him then, wafting into his noise like a familiar brush across the lips. Sophia’s scent, like fresh cotton hanging out on line to dry in the summer sun. Sophia’s voice. The feel of Sophia’s body against his. They’d been together only one night—one amazing night—but he would never forget the way her skin moved against his, the way she called to him in the dark.

Clark bolted up in bed, flinging the sheets back and looking down the naked length of Sophia’s body. She was slender, but her curves still swelled in a way that had his mouth watering even now. Sleepily, she rolled over, looking up at him with her wide-set pretty eyes.

“Hmmm,” she murmured. “Say you love me,” she purred, shifting up against him, pressing those wicked curves to his bare chest.

His heart hammered; the words were in his mouth to answer her, natural and instinctual. But his brain yelled at him. Her hand slid up and over his shoulder, into his tousled hair. Her touch was agony. Something vital was breaking apart inside him. God, he’d missed her. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside her and loose himself to whatever was happening right now.

“Will you say it, Clark?” she asked again, nearly begging as she rose up to kiss him.

“You’re dead,” Clark whispered. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but he turned his mouth away from her. The pain splintered inside him and pressed against the confines of his skin, threatening to rip him apart. His eyes watered with tears; his voice cracked as he spoke, “I saw your body.”

Her eyes widened, filled with delicate tears to match his own. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”

“No,” he said, his teeth clacking together as he began to shiver. He shoved out of bed, stumbling and tripping over the sheets that ripped at his legs. “No, you died.

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