His words brushed against her palm, velvety soft lips tempting her to throw caution to the wind. The longer he stood there touching her, the faster her good sense deserted her.
Max placed another kiss in her hand. Tingles raced up her arm when the warm moisture of his tongue brushed against the erratic pulse at her wrist. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t find the strength to make her arm move. Max lifted his head, his dark eyes locking on her with an intensity that made her weak in the knees. He gently tugged her wrist, pulling her a step closer, and lowered his head. His lips hovered a touch above hers.
“I was wondering what you’d taste like.” The tip of his tongue skated out and barely brushed her top lip, but he didn’t kiss her. Tension hung in the air, driving her crazy. Desire tore through the pit of her stomach and traveled lower until her whole body burned with need.
Her head was spinning. She hadn’t drunk enough to feel so unsteady, but her mind was too dull to register any concern to that fact. She gathered what little resolve she could muster. “Max, we shouldn’t do this,” she whispered. They were so close, the heat of her breath ricocheted back against her lips.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I’m waiting for you.”
Ashley let out a defeated sigh before reaching up that last inch to press her mouth to his. Instantly, she felt Max ignite. With a low, throaty growl he pulled her tightly against him and kissed her with such skill and passion, her head began to swim more than it already was. Her feet left the ground, and she felt like she was floating in the air. Max never broke contact with her lips as he carried her up the stairs into his bedroom. He laid her on his bed, had his shirt off, and was back on top of her before she could draw two gasping breaths.
Ashley knew she should stop, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to tell him no. The buttons of her shirt tore loose, pinging against the hardwood floor. His lips left hers to taste the side of her neck. A cool breeze brushed against her hot bare skin. Max’s mouth covered hers again, moving against hers intimately, his tongue promising her pleasures she’d only dreamed of.
His hand slid down to the button of her low-rise jeans. His thumb brushed along the side of her hip as he pulled them down. Ashley’s mind stopped processing thoughts altogether. Every nerve in her body was on fire—tingling—burning with anticipation. The last thing she remembered was Max trailing moist hot kisses down her stomach, and then lower…right before everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Ashley’s head throbbed with the worst hangover of her life. Sun burst in through her bedroom window. She groaned in misery, squinting against the unrelenting light. Her whole body ached. What happened? How did I get home?
For a fleeting second, before the memories came, she allowed herself to hope this was nothing more than a bad dream. She lifted the covers and looked beneath the sheets. Oh shit! She was naked, and it didn’t take but one look at her battered and bruised body to explain why she felt as if a truck had run her over. The ache between her legs made her wish a truck actually had. Images of last light flashed through her mind in bursts of passion-filled memories.
“Oh no…” she groaned, throwing back the covers to climb out of bed. She stumbled painfully down the hall and into the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as she could possibly stand it. “What have I done?” She squirted body wash onto a sponge and began scrubbing the streaks of dried blood off her thighs. She ran the sponge over her hip, and a sharp pain shot down her leg.
Ashley twisted around to get a look at the painful spot. She gasped when she saw a smattering of deep purple bruises and an obvious bite mark at the top of her buttock. She groaned as more images of last night came back to her.
What am I going to tell Olivia? They were supposed to hang out today. There was no way she could see her like this—there was no way anyone could see her like this. Ashley climbed out of the shower and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Tears of humiliation stung her eyes. Three red marks spotted the left side of her neck, and a few more marked her breasts. Her hips, buttocks and thighs were peppered with fingertip bruises, more red marks, and a few abrasions. The bite mark on the inside of her thigh wasn’t as bad as the one on her buttock. Disgusted, Ashley reached for the bath towel and wrapped it around her naked body, anxious to hide the evidence of her disgrace. She pulled on a pair of lounge pants and an over-sized sweatshirt before walking down to the kitchen. She took three Ibuprofen and then popped another two, just for good measure. How could she have done something so stupid? How could she ever face Olivia again?
***
Olivia tossed and turned half the night. Somewhere around 3 a.m., she finally fell asleep, only to be awoken by the shrill beeping of her alarm clock and Rowen’s raspy voice growling, “the girl has the sight,” echoing inside her head. She reached over and hit the snooze button. A sharp pain shot through her wrist and she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
She opened one of her eyes and squinted against the stream of light, preventing her from getting a better look at her wrist. It was bruised and swollen, even half-blind she could see that much. Thank God spring break was starting. At least now she wouldn’t have to explain her bruises to nosy people, or worry about running into Max in between classes. Maybe having the week off would give him a chance to cool down and accept the fact that they were finished.
More importantly, she now had the opportunity to figure out what in the hell was going on. She had questions—lots of them, and she wasn’t going to rest until she got the answers. Olivia climbed out of bed and walked over to her desk. She grabbed one end and pulled the corner free from the wall. She pushed the desk over to cover the hole, flipped open her laptop, and sat down.
Olivia drummed her fingers impatiently on the desk as she waited for the internet to load up. She entered “sight” into the Google search engine and hit the enter button. If Liam won’t tell me what’s going on then, I’m going to find out myself.
Several hits came up, and she opened the first result, anxious to find the answers that would help her figure out what was happening to her. The first website was a bust. It was nothing more than a generic description of eyesight that turned into a detailed explanation of the eye’s mechanical working. She searched more of the sites listed below and found similar explanations. Olivia huffed. She was getting nowhere. She scrolled back up to the search engine and typed in “the sight.” Several new links popped up, and Olivia clicked the first one she saw.
Her eyes quickly skimmed the first line and her heart began to pound with dread. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she reached out to grip the edge of her desk to sturdy herself. Its smooth hard texture grounded her as proof that she wasn’t dreaming, no matter how much she wished that were the case.
The Sight: There has been a lot of debate over the years as to whether anyone has ever been born with the “gift” of sight—although most have often referred to it as a curse. Those who claim to have the sight, say they possess the ability to see beyond dimensional borders. These “sighted” individuals report seeing angels and demons walking among us. Although there has never been any way to prove that such abilities truly exist, and some psychologists believe these allegations to be nothing more than the rantings of religious fanatics, research has been unable to disprove the phenomena. Over the years, a few individuals have come forward claiming they have become the victims of demonic attacks…
She stopped reading. The words blurred as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She slammed the lid of her laptop closed and pushed herself away from the desk. How can this be happening? It couldn’t possibly be true—could it? But after what happened yesterday, too much of it made sense. Panic seized her, and her stomach turned as bile surged up the back of her throat. She shot out of the chair and stumbled down the hall. Her hand splayed against the wall for support as she dashed into the bathroom. She was going to be sick. Olivia barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach heaved. Over and over
her body revolted against the truth.
Olivia reached out and grabbed a towel off the rack and buried her face in it. The soft terry cloth muffled her choking sobs. She had the sickening feeling she knew what Max was, and the thought of him—the thought of him kissing her—his hands on her… She leaned back over the toilet as another wave of nausea hit her.
She was in the middle of brushing her teeth when the doorbell echoed through the house, immediately followed by furious pounding on the door. Olivia froze. Dread instantly seized her heart. What if it was Max? What if he realized she knew his secret? What if he’d come here to kill her?
She ran into her bedroom to look out the window. The Harley was gone, and in its place sat a bright yellow Mustang. The doorbell rang again. She looked down and saw Liam pounding on the door.
“Olivia, open the door or I’m coming in!”
Why was he so upset? Tension poured from him like heat waves. She was about to open the window, to tell him she’d be right down, when he suddenly disappeared right in front of her eyes.
“Are you all right?”
Olivia let out a surprised yelp and spun around to find Liam standing in her bedroom. No effing way that just happened, yet here he was, right before her eyes, wearing a worried scowl on his handsome face.
“Are you all right?” he demanded. His eyes raked over her, head-to-toe. The heat of his gaze warmed her flesh everywhere it touched. Her neck, breasts, waist, legs—bare legs…all the way down to her shell pink manicured toes.
She tucked her wrist behind her back and opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. She was too stunned to speak. It took her another full minute to recover enough to finally find her words.
“I should be asking you that question. The last time I saw you, you were falling out my second-story bedroom window.” She took a step closer to him and reached up, brushing her fingers across the light pink scar on his cheek.
“Your face, the cut—it’s healed! How is that possible? And how is it possible that you’re standing in my bedroom right now?”
Liam shifted his weight, seemingly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her piercing eyes. He cleared his throat. “Umm, maybe we should have this conversation downstairs. I apologize for barging into your room. When you didn’t answer the door, I thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he murmured, turning to walk out of her room.
“It’ll be a lot faster if you just poofed your way down there.”
He stopped abruptly, his back ridged. He didn’t turn around to face her. “You’re pissed…”
“Yes, but not at you. I know this isn’t your fault. And I know the truth, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me yourself.”
“Can we please do this downstairs?” He walked away without waiting for her reply.
Liam was already sitting on the couch with Andre in his lap by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. Olivia walked over to him and sat down. She turned to face him and shooed the cat away. Andre meowed a protest before jumping to the ground, then sauntered away, his tail stuck indignantly in the air.
“You hurt his feelings.”
“I’m not even going to ask you how you know that, but I’m sure you’re right. I guess right now I’m a little more concerned with the nervous breakdown I’m having.”
Air rushed from his lungs that sounded a lot like a sigh of defeat. “What do you want to know, Olivia?”
What did she want to know? She wanted to know everything! She wanted to hear the truth. She wanted the answers to the million questions that were running through her mind so fast, she felt like she was going insane. Where should she even start?
“How did you know I needed you yesterday?” This was as good of a place to start as any.
“I just knew. I can’t explain to you how it works, because I don’t understand it myself.”
“Like you knew today? You knew I was upset. That’s why you looked like you were about to tear the door off the hinges, and why you suddenly appeared in my room—just like last night.”
He nodded.
“Can you read my mind?”
“No. But I can feel what you’re feeling,” he confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Really? Then what am I feeling right now?”
“Afraid—confused—hurt…”
He didn’t even pause to think about his response. The answer flowed from the tip of his tongue before she could even finish her sentence, and by the look of regret in his eyes, he was shouldering some of the blame for those emotions.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she confessed, breaking his gaze to look down at her hands folded tightly in her lap.
He reached over and took both of her hands in his. He bent his head to the side, trying to make eye contact with her. When she looked back into his beautiful eyes, her vision blurred with tears. “Is that what you think? That there’s something wrong with you?”
“I know there’s something wrong with me, Liam. And you know it too. So did those…things on the boat yesterday.”
“Olivia, trust me, there is nothing wrong with you.”
He seems so sure. But then what’s he supposed to say? “Olivia, you’re a freak.” “I know what Max is,” she confessed softly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was gone so fast, maybe she imagined it. “And I know what you are too,” she added, forcing the words from her mouth before she lost her nerve.
He stiffened like a stone statue in the seat beside her. The steady rise and fall of his chest ceased, his grip on her hands tightening ever so slightly. He didn’t speak—didn’t move.
Oh shit! Her anxiety soared. Could he feel it? If he did, he certainly gave no indication of it as she sat there with her heart slamming erratically inside her chest, waiting for him to say something—anything.
“Say it then,” he challenged, his voice a low, husky whisper. “What do you think I am?”
Olivia hesitated. Her mouth suddenly went dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she tried to speak. This was all so surreal. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, louder and louder, as she returned his stare.
“You’re an angel.”
As soon as the words passed her lips, she heard Liam’s breath catch in his throat. Her mind raced when he didn’t deny it. His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her want to look away and curl up in a ball. A fresh spring of tears flooded her eyes. She anxiously bit the inside of her bottom lip until the tangy copper flavor of her blood touched her tongue. “Say something,” she cried, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.
“I don’t know what to say, Olivia. I cannot deny what you say that I am.”
She let out an audible gasp at his confession. A single teardrop spilled over her lid and rolled down her cheek, landing on his hand. She looked down at the splatter of moisture wicking into his skin like a raindrop in the desert. She glanced back up to see his eyes flash brightly as he stared down at her wrist.
“Your wrist!” He lifted her hand and gently turned it, carefully inspecting the dark purple bruises. “That son of a bitch!” he snarled. “He did this to you! I swear to the Father I’m going to kill him!”
The heat of his anger blasted into her like a furnace. Her pulse quickened in response to his energy surge. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who could feel the other’s emotions, because what she got from him right now was rage, possessiveness and something else she wasn’t sure she should even let herself consider.
This was crazy. No way could he be projecting his emotions onto her. But she couldn’t deny that something definitely happened when he touched her. “It’s fine.” Olivia tried to pull her hand back, but he wouldn’t let her go. She looked away, self-conscious under the scrutiny of those brilliant amethyst eyes. Before she could protest any further, he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to one of the bruises on her wrist. Liquid heat
slowly spread up her arm, and it felt like the sun shone on her skin, but from the inside out. Radiant warmth bathed her in a soothing, tranquil bliss. She closed her eyes, drinking in the energy as it coursed through her veins, spreading like a wildfire with every rapid beat of her heart.
All too soon the blissful heat disappeared, along with the touch of Liam's lips. Olivia opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. His indescribable beauty verily stole her breath. She looked away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze for another moment. Glancing down at her wrist, she gasped.
“They're gone. My bruises are gone! How is this possible?”
“I heal quickly. I transferred some of my energy into you.”
“Do you do that very often?”
He shook his head. “No, it weakens me, and I need my strength…”
“Because of Max. He’s trying to kill me, isn’t he?” She boldly met his eyes, daring him to deny it.
The phone rang, interrupting his response. Olivia didn’t move, but continued to stare at him, waiting for his answer.
“You should get that,” he replied softly. “It’s Ashley.”
“How do you—Oh…” she huffed, marching into the kitchen. If he thought answering the phone was going to get him off the hook, he had another thing coming. She picked up the phone just before the answering machine got it.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
Holy crap, Ashley sounded terrible. “Hey, Ash, what’s wrong?” Olivia peeked her head around the corner, checking to make sure Liam was still there.
“I’m sick. I don’t think I’m going to make it over today. Is that all right?”
“No. It’s fine. We can reschedule. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. You want me to bring some lunch over after yoga?”
“No! Don’t come! I uh…wouldn’t want you to catch it.”
The Redemption Series Page 16
