Sweet Peril
Page 68
He closed his eyes and let out a breathy laugh. My heart soared.
“You want to be my boyfriend?”
He cringed. “Ugh. That bleedin’ word.”
I threw my arms around him. I couldn’t hold back the smile. I wanted to jump on his bed and sing. It was a stupid label, but there was power in those possessive words: boyfriend and girlfriend.
“So,” he said.
“So,” I repeated, still grinning.
“Let it be clear. This means no more snogging other people,” he told me.
“Or sleeping with them,” I added.
We both tensed. His jaw worked, and he nodded. “Or that, yes.”
“Unless . . .” I distanced myself enough to see his face. “When we have to work, Kaidan—”
“I’m not working anymore.” His voice was resolute, which terrified me. He wasn’t in a position to defy his father or cause the whisperers to suspect him. He’d never get away with it.
“I wouldn’t consider it cheating,” I said gently. He opened his mouth to protest and I hurried on. “I know you don’t want to work, and neither do I. I’m proud of how strong you’ve been, but if there’s ever a time when it’s necessary, I would understand.”
He looked away.
“You act as if the idea of me working doesn’t bother you.” The underlying hurt in his tone stabbed at me and I took his hand, needing him to understand. I swallowed down a lump of bile.
“I hate it, Kaidan. I can’t stand the thought of it. I want to, like, stab something when I think about that other Anna.” His eyebrows went up in alarm. “Sorry. That was psycho. All I’m saying is that working is better than the alternative. If it comes down to life or death, I need you to choose life. I know you wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t have to. I trust you.”
“You trust me,” he whispered. He threaded his fingers into the hair at my temple, an expression of fearful amazement on his face, as if my trust were a gift he’d never expected to receive and one he’d live in fear of losing.
“I don’t deserve you.” His forearm flexed and his hand left my hair as he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands on his chest. “I’ve never deserved you.”
My insides clenched. “Kai . . . it’s not about deserving. You don’t have to try to prove yourself. I know where your heart is.”
“Of course you can easily say that because you don’t know all I’ve done or all I still want to do. My urges—”
I pressed a finger to his lips. “I wouldn’t love you any less. Right now it’s about moving forward and healing. And, to be honest, I’m ashamed of the things I’ve done this year, and the image I’ve created—like I don’t care about anything but partying—but it’s kept me alive, and I’ve tried to make amends where I can. I hate living a lie.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
He closed his eyes and I pushed myself up, leaning over his face. I ran my fingers across the stubble on his cheeks and brushed the pads of my thumbs over his long, black lashes, making his eyes twitch. Touching him because I could. Because he allowed me to see his insecurities.
“My boyfriend is so sweet,” I whispered. “And not bad looking, either.”
An oncoming grin worked the corners of his mouth, and he rolled toward me. I snuggled down with him, our limbs automatically reaching out to make claim, entwining, regardless of our earlier silent pact to keep distance between us.
“My girlfriend is a party-girl angel who can kick some arse and cook.”
I laughed and placed one last peck on his lips. We lay there with our faces close until we drifted to sleep. Together.
The room was dark and quiet when I awoke. I glanced bleary-eyed at the clock, which read 5:23, wondering if Kaidan had spoken in his sleep. And then I heard it again.
“Daughter of Belial.”
Kaidan and I both shot up in bed, and I snatched the leather-clad hilt from his nightstand.
A whisperer with its wings outstretched hung above us. Even after I adjusted my eyes and noticed his feline features, my heart still slammed in my throat.
My voice shook when I said, “Azael.” I dropped the hilt in my lap and exhaled.
“Belial sends a message,” Azael said. “Turn on your phone.”
“Oh, shoot!” I scrambled from the bed, falling to my knees in front of my bag by the door. I’d forgotten to turn my cell back on after the airport! I couldn’t believe it’d been off all this time. I fumbled around for my phone, finding it and turning it on. Kaidan squatted next to me.
Text messages and voice mails blinked from Patti and Dad and schoolmates. My stomach dropped with regret. Patti had been expecting me home hours ago and she was probably scared to death!
The texts from my father showed a progression from frustration to anger. The voice mails from him were all stewing silences, then hang ups.
I looked up, searching for the spirit. “What’s going on, Azael?”
“He left,” Kaidan said.
“Crap,” I muttered.
I first texted Patti to tell her I was okay. I then dialed Dad and he answered on the first ring. A chill prickled my scalp at the steady fury in his voice. “Do not. Ever. Turn your phone off.”
My body wasn’t sure whether to cry or puke or speak. Thankfully, speaking won, though my voice sounded tiny. “I forgot to turn it back on earlier today. I’m sorry.”
“You want to be my boyfriend?”
He cringed. “Ugh. That bleedin’ word.”
I threw my arms around him. I couldn’t hold back the smile. I wanted to jump on his bed and sing. It was a stupid label, but there was power in those possessive words: boyfriend and girlfriend.
“So,” he said.
“So,” I repeated, still grinning.
“Let it be clear. This means no more snogging other people,” he told me.
“Or sleeping with them,” I added.
We both tensed. His jaw worked, and he nodded. “Or that, yes.”
“Unless . . .” I distanced myself enough to see his face. “When we have to work, Kaidan—”
“I’m not working anymore.” His voice was resolute, which terrified me. He wasn’t in a position to defy his father or cause the whisperers to suspect him. He’d never get away with it.
“I wouldn’t consider it cheating,” I said gently. He opened his mouth to protest and I hurried on. “I know you don’t want to work, and neither do I. I’m proud of how strong you’ve been, but if there’s ever a time when it’s necessary, I would understand.”
He looked away.
“You act as if the idea of me working doesn’t bother you.” The underlying hurt in his tone stabbed at me and I took his hand, needing him to understand. I swallowed down a lump of bile.
“I hate it, Kaidan. I can’t stand the thought of it. I want to, like, stab something when I think about that other Anna.” His eyebrows went up in alarm. “Sorry. That was psycho. All I’m saying is that working is better than the alternative. If it comes down to life or death, I need you to choose life. I know you wouldn’t do anything if you didn’t have to. I trust you.”
“You trust me,” he whispered. He threaded his fingers into the hair at my temple, an expression of fearful amazement on his face, as if my trust were a gift he’d never expected to receive and one he’d live in fear of losing.
“I don’t deserve you.” His forearm flexed and his hand left my hair as he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands on his chest. “I’ve never deserved you.”
My insides clenched. “Kai . . . it’s not about deserving. You don’t have to try to prove yourself. I know where your heart is.”
“Of course you can easily say that because you don’t know all I’ve done or all I still want to do. My urges—”
I pressed a finger to his lips. “I wouldn’t love you any less. Right now it’s about moving forward and healing. And, to be honest, I’m ashamed of the things I’ve done this year, and the image I’ve created—like I don’t care about anything but partying—but it’s kept me alive, and I’ve tried to make amends where I can. I hate living a lie.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
He closed his eyes and I pushed myself up, leaning over his face. I ran my fingers across the stubble on his cheeks and brushed the pads of my thumbs over his long, black lashes, making his eyes twitch. Touching him because I could. Because he allowed me to see his insecurities.
“My boyfriend is so sweet,” I whispered. “And not bad looking, either.”
An oncoming grin worked the corners of his mouth, and he rolled toward me. I snuggled down with him, our limbs automatically reaching out to make claim, entwining, regardless of our earlier silent pact to keep distance between us.
“My girlfriend is a party-girl angel who can kick some arse and cook.”
I laughed and placed one last peck on his lips. We lay there with our faces close until we drifted to sleep. Together.
The room was dark and quiet when I awoke. I glanced bleary-eyed at the clock, which read 5:23, wondering if Kaidan had spoken in his sleep. And then I heard it again.
“Daughter of Belial.”
Kaidan and I both shot up in bed, and I snatched the leather-clad hilt from his nightstand.
A whisperer with its wings outstretched hung above us. Even after I adjusted my eyes and noticed his feline features, my heart still slammed in my throat.
My voice shook when I said, “Azael.” I dropped the hilt in my lap and exhaled.
“Belial sends a message,” Azael said. “Turn on your phone.”
“Oh, shoot!” I scrambled from the bed, falling to my knees in front of my bag by the door. I’d forgotten to turn my cell back on after the airport! I couldn’t believe it’d been off all this time. I fumbled around for my phone, finding it and turning it on. Kaidan squatted next to me.
Text messages and voice mails blinked from Patti and Dad and schoolmates. My stomach dropped with regret. Patti had been expecting me home hours ago and she was probably scared to death!
The texts from my father showed a progression from frustration to anger. The voice mails from him were all stewing silences, then hang ups.
I looked up, searching for the spirit. “What’s going on, Azael?”
“He left,” Kaidan said.
“Crap,” I muttered.
I first texted Patti to tell her I was okay. I then dialed Dad and he answered on the first ring. A chill prickled my scalp at the steady fury in his voice. “Do not. Ever. Turn your phone off.”
My body wasn’t sure whether to cry or puke or speak. Thankfully, speaking won, though my voice sounded tiny. “I forgot to turn it back on earlier today. I’m sorry.”
