The Wish Collector by Mia Sheridan

Author:Mia Sheridan [Sheridan, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2018-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Clara smelled him—Jonah. My wish collector. His scent was against her nose, that clean, masculine smell she’d breathed in in the masquerade ball’s courtyard and had yearned to breathe in every day since.

She was sleeping and in her dream, he was carrying her, his strong arms wrapped around her body.

Her head cleared slightly, a small moan coming up her throat as some distant fear poked at her memory.

“Shh,” he said. It was his voice. She wasn’t mistaken. She might not be as familiar with his scent—it would have been possible to get that part wrong. But his voice? No, she’d know his voice anywhere. It flowed through her veins and invaded her cells. It had become part of her.

“Can you hold on to me?”

“I am holding on to you,” she said, her speech garbled, feeling the lean strength of him as her arms tightened very slightly around his shoulders.

“I mean tightly.” He sat down on something, holding her on his lap.

She burrowed into him, the fog clearing slightly as she opened an eye and then clenched it shut again, the bare slip of light causing her head to throb.

“Never mind,” he said very softly as if to himself. She just wanted to sleep. She was safe—safe with Jonah—and she just needed to shut her eyes for a little while. “Too dangerous.”

What? What’s too dangerous?

She drifted, swearing she heard him speaking to someone. But his arms were around her and it felt so good, and she was so warm. There was no danger at all.

She slept and when she woke, she heard the slamming of a car door, and then another. Someone spoke to Jonah, his voice raspy and filled with concern, and then she was in Jonah’s arms again, being laid on something soft. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

Clara turned, her eyes opening slightly, vision blurry. His face swam in front of her, her heart jumping slightly as he drew closer. The light was so dim and he was so shadowy.

His face moved closer, her breath hitching, skeletal bones sharpening as the gap between them closed.

Clara’s breath released on a loud whoosh of air, her fingers tracing the rubber cheekbone on his mask. “Don’t leave me,” she said again. He could wear a mask if he wanted to, he could put a paper bag over his head if he chose . . . she only wanted him there, with her.

He seemed to still very slightly, and she saw his eyes moving under his mask.

“You were following me,” she murmured, reality flowing in and bringing with it the memory of the men, the dogs, the fence. It had been him, the shadow behind them that had made her lose her footing and fall.

“Good thing.” His voice was gritty, and she saw a muscle in his exposed jaw tick. “You might have a concussion.”

He brought his hand to her hair, moving it off her forehead. She noted a stinging sensation and her head throbbed again. “How do you feel?”

“Sore. And I have a headache.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.