Demon Disgrace (The Resurrection Chronicles #8) - M.J. Haag Page 0,72

regardless. I forgot to keep trying to pull my hands free and lost myself to the hungry stroke of his tongue and the way his legs were trapping mine.

He surrounded me, consumed me, and stirred a hunger hardly explored. And, he laid bare a need I didn’t even know existed.

With a growl, he tore his lips from mine and stood.

“Stay here.”

Then, he was gone.

I lay on the mat, panting for air and shaking all over. Lifting a hand, I touched my lips and wondered what the hell had just happened.

I’d thought my reaction to his bite a fluke, but it wasn’t. My body wanted Merdon even when my brain told me to run far and fast from that fey. I’d made a grave mistake in thinking that Merdon was an easy problem to solve. He was anything but easy.

Running my fingers over my puffy lips, I wondered what I was supposed to do about this new discovery. How could I fight what I felt when I didn’t fully understand what I wanted?

It took several minutes for the trembling to stop and another minute before I could stand. I made it up the stairs and as far as the couch before I had to sit again. Staring blankly at the dark television, I tried to string two logical thoughts together.

Merdon believed I was his. But, I didn’t want to belong to any fey. Why? Because the fey were needy, and I didn’t want needy. I wanted freedom. Why? So I could drink myself to death.

That last thought ground everything to a halt.

No, I didn’t want to drink myself to death; I just wanted to have a little peace while I slept. At least, that was how the drinking had started. Just a glass or two before bed. The amount in my cups had gradually increased whenever the dreams had started creeping back in until I was passing out every night. Then, I’d started drinking during the day to drown out the guilt that haunted me during my waking hours.

I rubbed a hand over my face, hating that one dumb kiss had exposed so many ugly truths. My life was just one big pile of fucked-up-ness, and the instigator of my latest mind-fuck was out roaming the streets of Tolerance. He was probably coming up with some new, evil plan to make me miserable and mess with my head further.

He had to go. My life didn’t need more complications; it needed fewer.

But how was I supposed to get rid of a guy who didn’t respect boundaries or listen to what I wanted?

I sat there, determined to think of an answer. However, nothing inspiring came to mind as the house grew darker and I lost feeling in my butt. Eyelids heavy, I slapped my cheeks and tried to stay awake. I didn’t want to go to sleep in an empty house. That was worse than going to sleep sober.

A knock on the door rescued me from my dilemma.

Angel smiled at me from the front step, and I felt an uncalled-for sense of disappointment that it wasn’t Merdon.

“Hoping for someone else?” Angel asked, reading my expression.

“Not really. What can I do for you?”

“Merdon sent me. He’s arranging some time for you to practice with Brenna tomorrow.”

It took a second for me to understand.

“You mean with a bow?”

“Yep. He said you wanted to learn to shoot. Would it be okay if I tagged along?”

“Um, sure.”

Was it awkward that my ex-stalker’s new girlfriend wanted to hang out with me? Maybe a little.

“We’re supposed to come up with a meeting place and let Brenna know. The fey don’t want us anywhere near the cows. No accidental hamburgers in our future.” She laughed.

She was always happy. The real kind of happy, not my fake kind. I envied her.

“I’m not sure where to practice. I don’t even know how much room we need,” I admitted.

“A decent amount. I’ll check with Brenna and see if she has any ideas. Are you going to be up for a while?”

“Yeah. Probably. Merdon left kind of angry, and I’d rather be awake when he gets back.” Retribution might be a bitch, and I’d prefer to be alert for it.

“Angry? I think this is a conversation best done in the kitchen. Have any chips?”

I found myself letting her in and following her to the kitchen.

“I honestly don’t know what we have,” I said. “Emily does the cooking.”

Angel draped her jacket over a kitchen chair and started checking cupboards. There was a crazy amount of

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