I stretch out on top of her, shoving one hand underneath her, grabbing a handful of her luscious ass. I bury my other hand in her thick hair, forcing her head back so I can see that face. We’re hopelessly intertwined. I felt it the night I thought I was making love to Serafina. A magnetic pull. Fate. I didn’t need Angel anymore, not after Serafina opened up the way she did, sharing her laughter and body, making me feel like a man again, alive. No matter where this goes, Serafina isn’t real—she’s a made up person I fell hard for. It’s like experiencing death again, and I’m not sure I can handle it.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I love you.”
I don’t want to hear it. Not now. I kiss her violently, taking back what she stole—what’s always been mine. I wish I could crawl inside her body and stay there forever. Then it starts, a distant pulse at first that turns into an explosive orgasm. Her muscles squeeze my cock, milking me—stealing my fucking soul.
We’re both panting as I roll off of her. No matter what her reasoning is, Angel betrayed me. She walked out of my life leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. I almost drank myself to death. I nearly let her goddamn brother blow my brains out.
I stand up and zip my pants. She’s still sprawled on the floor, looking like a goddess. My very much alive Angel. “I can’t do this right now,” I say. “I just fucked a ghost.”
She sits up, tears falling down her cheeks. “Please, Eagle. I know it doesn’t make sense right now. I know you wanted Serafina . . .”
“Damn right I did.” I glare at her. “But you took her from me, too.”
“Too?”
I fist my hands. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you? I thought you were dead, Angel. That alone cost me six years. Now Serafina is gone. That leaves me with nothing.” I start for the door.
“Wait!”
“What?” I feel like a dead man walking, stripped of any hope.
“Serafinaisme. Don’t you understand that? I’ve changed. I’m not the girl you remember, the one you fought so hard to save.”
I spin around. “You’re not Serafina. And you’re sure as hell not the Angel I remember. That girl would never have lied to me, stolen six years of my life.” I look her up and down, critical of anything she has to say, unwilling to listen. “Frankenstein,” I say. “Some sick, twisted creation that took the place of the girl I used to love and the woman I was falling for.”
I walk across the room, scoop the remains of the shredded T-shirt I gave her off the floor, and head back to the door. “Stay here—I don’t even know what the fuck to call you.” I step outside, caring little about anything else but getting away from her.
