In Still Darkness (Immortal Guardians) by Duvall Dianne

Author:Duvall, Dianne [Duvall, Dianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-10-23T16:00:00+00:00

Richart bit back a groan. Some asshole was mowing his lawn or trimming his hedges or juggling fucking chainsaws in rhythmic intervals. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. The noise assaulted his ears in perfect accompaniment to the pounding that made his head feel like someone was hitting him repeatedly in the forehead with a snow shovel.

What the hell?

He tried to open his eyes and found his lids too heavy to lift.

“Wake up, Richart,” Jenna whispered in his ear. Her delicate fingers delivered soothing strokes to one of his hands.

Had he fallen asleep at Jenna’s?

“Wake up, Richart,” she repeated in those same warm tones.

The buzz sawing grew louder. The pain in his head intensified.

“Wake up, Richart,” she said once more, amusement creeping in. “Because, if you don’t, I might have to smother Sheldon to get him to stop snoring.”

Had he the strength, he would have laughed.

Then her words sank in. Sheldon was here? What was Sheldon doing here?

Where was here? His mind was all foggy.

Had he and Jenna spent her night off at his place? All of the things he had planned to do to that lovely body of hers and he had fallen asleep? Sheldon must have laughed his ass off when he had gotten home.

“Wake up, Richart. I need to know you’re okay.”

That didn’t sound like he’d fallen asleep.

He tried again to force his eyelids open.

Her hand tightened on his as she combed her fingers through his hair.

“That’s it. Open your eyes for me.”

At last, he succeeded and tried to bring his surroundings into focus.

What was wrong with his eyes?

What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he think straight or hold on to a thought for more than a fleeting second?

As his vision cleared, he realized he lay in Jenna’s bed, a blanket drawn up to his waist, leaving his chest bare. His Second was sprawled in a chair across the room, legs straight, feet splayed, arms dangling over the chair’s arms, head back, mouth gaping as he emitted periodic snores.

At least I’ve located the damned chainsaw.

Daylight framed the closed blinds on the only window the room boasted. A discarded IV stand sporting an empty bag of blood stood sentinel beside the bed.

“Richart?” Jenna sat beside him, her hip a gentle pressure against his. Faint signs of fatigue lined her pretty face.

He curled his fingers around hers, still trying to find his voice.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

It took a couple of attempts to coax sound to emerge. “Like I have the worst hangover ever. What happened?”

She shook her head. “Sheldon wouldn’t tell me what happened before you got here, just that you were out on assignment and something went terribly wrong. John and I were having dinner here last night when you suddenly . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It feels so weird to say this.”

“What?”

“You . . . teleported into the living room.”

Alarm surged through him.

“Sporting fangs.”

He clamped his lips shut.

“Drenched in blood.”

Holy hell.

“With glowing eyes.”

Every curse word he knew in every language he had ever learned paraded through his mind.

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