Love Is Mortal by Caroline Hanson

Author:Caroline Hanson [Hanson, Caroline]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Adult, Vampires
Publisher: Host of the Hills
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*****

Valerie felt sick.

She was sweating and clammy, and she felt as if something bad were about to happen. Like the world was about to end, or she was about to die. She took a deep breath and went to the air conditioner, trying to make the classroom colder.

Her students were taking a test, and after that she could leave, go home and do what? Freak out in private? Have a panic attack or scream hysterically?

The bell finally rang, and she went home; the sense of fear, dread and pain, consuming her. She lay down on her bed and was glad for the dark. She didn’t remember closing the curtains, but she must have. You must always keep the curtains closed, she thought and didn’t question it.

She closed her eyes, and a vision, like a flash of lightning, sizzled behind her eyes. A man: tall, broad-shouldered, golden and beautiful. He was shirtless, covered in blood; body bowed outwards as he screamed in pain. His hands were fisted, and tears coursed down his cheeks. Her sense of wrongness and fear increased so that she wanted to scream or cry—suddenly willing to do anything to make it stop.

She jerked upright and turned on the light. It wasn’t real. It made no sense. She needed to get her shit under control. Go to the doctor and get some Xanax. She could just imagine what she’d say—she felt panicky, and when she closed her eyes, she saw the hottest man ever, bleeding and half-naked; being tortured.

Had she suddenly become a sadist? Read too many kinky S and M novels and this was the price?

She got up and walked to the windows, ready to open the curtains and let some light in.

Suddenly, she was in the kitchen. What am I doing here? What am I looking for? Valerie went to the cupboards, opening it up, hands shaking. She must have come down here for water. That was the only explanation.

She grabbed a mug, and had an urge to throw it, to take everything out of that cupboard and destroy it, smash the whole house to pieces. She gripped the mug tightly, so tight her fingers whitened, then went and opened the back door, walking out onto her patio.

“Don’t do this. It’s insane,” she muttered. She lowered the mug, breathing deeply. She was a sane person, right? “Except for the talking to yourself, you’re great,” she said aloud.

All at once, the feeling of wrongness and pain—that she was failing someone—came back and overwhelmed her. With a scream she threw the mug, watching it shatter a few feet away from her.

It wasn’t enough.

She ran back inside and grabbed more glasses and mugs, taking as many as she could carry in her arms. She began throwing them, smashing them all to pieces, bits of glass and pottery stabbing her in the calves. Her lower legs were covered with blood, and she stepped backward, went back into her house and started to cry.

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