The Reaping - By M. Leighton Page 0,62

distinct impression that she was angry. She didn’t beckon to me, she didn’t ask for my help, she didn’t seem curious or desperate or even friendly. Somehow, she seemed hostile.

I took a step forward. She didn’t move. I took another step and then another, but still she didn’t move. I lifted my hand and swiped it through the mist, through her form. She disappeared for just a second. And when I saw her face materialize in the mist once more, her lips were curved in a chilling smile.

My ever-ready anger pushed through my alm. I shouted, “What do you want?”

She opened her mouth, her top lip curling up into a sneer. I thought she was going to speak, but, just then, the bathroom door opened. A gust of cool air rushed in, chasing her away with the thick steam. Her image dissolved as if it had never been.

Derek stood on the threshold, a look of concern puckering his brow.

“Why didn’t you lock the garage door? And why are the car lights on? What’s the matter?”

Like a punctured balloon, I felt suddenly deflated and unspeakably exhausted. I was so tired of heartache and fear, of uncertainty and worry, of complicated. For the first time I could ever remember, I craved simple. Not breathtaking or exciting or dangerous, just simple. And safe.

I looked at Derek. Perversely, one of the biggest complications in my life was standing right in front of me. The perverse part of it was that I craved him more than I craved simplicity, craved him so much that I could almost hate him for coming into my life. Almost.

But he was also my biggest source of safety. And, as always, I was inexplicably drawn to him. I took the few steps that would bring me into his arms and I wound my arms around his neck, melting into him. I absorbed his strength and heat, his power and security as it bled from his skin into mine.

He was relaxed at first, his arms coming around me in a warm embrace, one meant to comfort. Then, slowly, electricity began to crackle between us, as it always did. I became aware of the cool leather of his jacket where it was pressed against my naked skin, of the rough skin of his palms as they rubbed my back soothingly.

He must’ve felt the shift in my mood because his touch changed. His hands moved purposefully over my skin, warm with the passion that always lay just beneath the surface. They stroked my back and buttocks, hinting at the wicked pleasures they could bring.

I pressed my lips to his neck. His hands moved to my sides, traveling up toward the sides of my breasts. My body was already on fire when his hands stopped suddenly and he stiffened.

“What’s that?”

I was still caught up in the moment, my head fuzzy with desire. “What?” I answered, pressing my body more tightly to his.

“Carson,” he snapped, the seriousness of his tone like a bucket of cold water. “What is that?”

He pulled away from me so that he could look down into my face.

“What’s what?”

“That necklace,” he said nodding toward the mirror behind me.

What his tone hadn’t done to sober me, his question had. How easy it was to forget the world when I was in his arms.

“Oh,” I said, suddenly aware of my nakedness. I took the towel from my head and busied myself with covering my nudity before I answered. “That.” I turned and walked to the mirror, taking the chain off the medicine cabinet and holding it out to him. “Just a little something I picked up tonight.”

He took the necklace from me and I stepped past him into the bedroom to get some pajamas.

Derek was silent for several seconds as he examined the charm. He surprised me when he whirled around and stomped toward me, covering the space in three huge steps. The look on his face was indescribably hostile.

“Where did you get this, Carson? Be specific.” This was the way I’d perceived Derek when I’d first met him: dangerous. His tone, his body language, his expression, it all reeked of what pain he could inflict upon me if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. And even though I knew he wouldn’t hurt me—or at least I didn’t think he would—it still gave me pause to see him like this.

“I was visited tonight by one of the people that I saw in the garage that night.”

“And?”

“And he attacked me.”

“He attacked

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