Radley's Labyrinth for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne

Author:Annabelle Hawthorne [Hawthorne, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica, Monster Girl, Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 9781949654035
Google: koudzQEACAAJ
Amazon: B08D7ZLGCN
Publisher: Wet Leaf Press LLC
Published: 2020-09-14T23:00:00+00:00

In the darkness, Dana could hear the ocean crashing against the sand, gentle pulses that threatened to lull her back to sleep. If not for the sudden sound of the heavy glass door sliding in its track behind her, she would have let the ocean carry her mind away, just another cloud of thought drifting over the horizon.

“Hey there, Sparks.”

Dana heard the can of beer touch down on the glass end table, followed by the stretching of canvas when Alex sprawled out on the lounge chair next to her. From her seat, she could smell Alex’s skin, a combination of sunscreen, seawater, and the grilled burgers they had eaten earlier.

“Mmh.” Dana reached over, quickly finding Alex’s fingers with her own.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’m afraid to open my eyes. I’m afraid that if I open my eyes, this will all go away.”

“And why would it go away?”

“Because you…you…” The oxygen left Dana’s lungs, the sudden inability to speak bringing back a flood of memories of the crash, the memorial service, and everything else. Taking a deep breath, she let her mind drift among the waves for a moment. “You’re dead.”

“I don’t feel dead.” Dana could hear the smile in Alex’s voice. “How did I die?”

“Motorcycle crash. Road was wet, and a car lost control, hitting you head-on.”

“Wow. Sounds awful.”

“It was.” Dana was waiting for the world to pop, to take her back to reality. When it didn’t happen, she opened her eyes and stared off the balcony, watching the water crash onto itself, erasing footprints from the sand. The sun had just set, and the world was vanishing from sight. “This is just a dream, you know? From our trip to the coast. This is the little apartment we rented, overlooking the ocean. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to spill waffle mix all over the floor, and we’re going to go out to breakfast instead.”

“I hope we go somewhere good.”

“We do, but…” Dana couldn’t bear it any longer. She closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again, wiping away the tears that had formed. Turning in her chair, she looked at Alex, praying that the beach wouldn’t turn into the road where Alex had died, a cross pinned to the guardrail where the bike had skidded into it and gotten stuck.

Alex Winters was sitting sideways on the lounge chair, her legs crossed in front of her. She had tossed on a long white tank top after her shower, and her tight curls had been pulled up into a bun. Her skin was brown with warm orange-red undertones, and her dark eyes reflected the glow from the porch light that hung above them.

“Alex,” Dana whispered. It was the first time Alex had come to her in a dream fully intact without triggering a sequence of nightmares.

“Someone makes a comment,” Alex finished for her. “A guy at one of the tables calls us a pair of dykes. You get pissed and slam his face into his eggs. The cops get called but not before we get the hell out of there.

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