The sudden pressure of broken and mismatched memories makes my head throb. Groaning, I drop my head in my hand, not even remembering to keep my eyes on the stranger. My fingers accidentally graze a thick bandage on my forehead, and I hisswhen I rip it out without thinking it through.Shit, why did I do that?
Oh, fuck yesterday! The Deviants, the coven, thekidhe was—
Shit! Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. THE KID!
Somehow anticipating my inner turmoil, the man I now remember as Anxo aka Angel immediately rushes to my side.
“Calm down, Nevaeh. The boy is fine. He has been knocked out since yesterday.” I let his words sink in before I go running around like a crazy woman looking for her kid. “Now, take a deep breath for me, yeah?” I nod at his alluring voice and mimic him when he takes a deep breath. “That’s good, sweetheart. Breathe for me.”
Wait… why the hell am I obeying Angel man?
Once my subtle panic fades, I open my eyes to find Anxo sitting beside me. He is close enough to brush my finger along his cheekbone, but I immediately swat away that idiotic thought.
It seems like every time I blink, he gets closer. I want to ask him why he continuously erases the distance between us, but I don’t.
And it’s not because I’m a little bit addicted to his scent, or the way my body hums at his proximity, or how the constant screeching inside my head stops, or—
I did not just think any of that! That was not me. Definitely not. I think I’m a victim of witchcraft.
I shake my head subtly to drop that line of thought and look around, hoping to see the one man I’ve been dying to meet.
“Where’s my papa?”
My question makes Anxo’s eyes flash with uncertainly before he masks it. His calmness is suspicious to me. I keep waiting for him to lash out, but how he distances himself from every aggressive and upsetting emotion is—just plain suspicious.
There has to be something wrong with him. I’ll just wait for his mask to drop. No one can begoodall the time.
“I’ll tell you everything, but first, let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”
“And then we’ll talk?”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
Ugh, why does he keep calling me that? I hate it.Not.
When he gives me a soft, dimpled smile, what’s left of my brain dissolves. The way his dimples shyly make an appearance has my breath faltering. Composing myself because this man is somehow ruining my ‘unbothered as fuck facade’, I untangle my limbs from the feather-like comforter and climb out of the bed.
Shifting my weight on my legs, I rotate my feet and bounce a little to check if everything is back to its original condition. Now that my knee isn’t thumping louder than my heart, I turn back to the man waiting with a bunch of clothes in his hands and eyes on me.
Why does he keep looking at me with those hopeful eyes? He must want something. No one is ever nice to me for nothing.
Showing me where the bathroom is, he hands me the clothes, and I’m careful not to touch him. Yesterday was different. I was barely lucid, not to mention nearly to the shiny gates of Azure, but today is a new day. Meaning I’m back to keeping my distance from people I don’t trust.
I turn around just before I can lock myself in the bathroom and ask, “Why do you keep calling me that?”
My insides feel hot thinking of how he calls me sweetheart, but I don’t understand why. We met yesterday, and people only refer to their close ones with endearing terms, not random strangers.
Angel takes my question as an invitation to walk over and stand mere inches from me. Unexpectedly, his palm comes to rest on my cheek. The touch is scorching hot, and the fire it starts warms every inch of my body, but my eyes bug out when Idon’tflinch.
Not even for a split second did I think of protecting myself from him. My mind doesn’t flash with every way a man of his stature can hurt me. Maybe it’s because he helped me yesterday when I needed it. That has to be it.
The spark of warmth emitting from his palm contrasts my cheek’s rough, dirty skin, and my eyes flutter shut. I lean into his palm, not aware of my reactions.
“That blush is my new favorite thing in the world.”
Okay, not what I expected. His words intensify the unfamiliar heat on my face that slowly spreads to my neck. Something is happening, and I’m not sure I like it.
His chuckle urges me to lift my gaze from the floor, but a soft pressure against my forehead makes me freeze. I swear I’ve felt this before. Tilting my face, I see his eyes pressed shut and his lips on my forehead, which lingers momentarily.
