Until Darkness Comes (16 page)

Ashley’s head throbbed with the worst hangover of her life. Sun burst in through her bedroom window. She groaned in misery, squinting against the unrelenting light. Her whole body ached.
What happened? How did I get home?

For a fleeting second, before the memories came, she allowed herself to hope this was nothing more than a bad dream. She lifted the covers and looked beneath the sheets.
Oh shit!
She was naked, and it didn’t take but one look at her battered and bruised body to explain why she felt as if a truck had run her over. The ache between her legs made her wish a truck actually had. Images of last light flashed through her mind in bursts of passion-filled memories.

“Oh no…” she groaned, throwing back the covers to climb out of bed. She stumbled painfully down the hall and into the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as she could possibly stand it. “What have I done?” She squirted body wash onto a sponge and began scrubbing the streaks of dried blood off her thighs. She ran the sponge over her hip, and a sharp pain shot down her leg.

Ashley twisted around to get a look at the painful spot. She gasped when she saw a smattering of deep purple bruises and an obvious bite mark at the top of her buttock. She groaned as more images of last night came back to her.

What am I going to tell Olivia?
They were supposed to hang out today. There was no way she could see her like this—there was no way
anyone
could see her like this. Ashley climbed out of the shower and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Tears of humiliation stung her eyes. Three red marks spotted the left side of her neck, and a few more marked her breasts. Her hips, buttocks and thighs were peppered with fingertip bruises, more red marks, and a few abrasions. The bite mark on the inside of her thigh wasn’t as bad as the one on her buttock. Disgusted, Ashley reached for the bath towel and wrapped it around her naked body, anxious to hide the evidence of her disgrace. She pulled on a pair of lounge pants and an over-sized sweatshirt before walking down to the kitchen. She took three Ibuprofen and then popped another two, just for good measure. How could she have done something so stupid? How could she ever face Olivia again?

***

Olivia tossed and turned half the night. Somewhere around 3 a.m., she finally fell asleep, only to be awoken by the shrill beeping of her alarm clock and Rowen’s raspy voice growling, “the girl has the sight,” echoing inside her head. She reached over and hit the snooze button. A sharp pain shot through her wrist and she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

She opened one of her eyes and squinted against the stream of light, preventing her from getting a better look at her wrist. It was bruised and swollen, even half-blind she could see that much. Thank God spring break was starting. At least now she wouldn’t have to explain her bruises to nosy people, or worry about running into Max in between classes. Maybe having the week off would give him a chance to cool down and accept the fact that they were finished.

More importantly, she now had the opportunity to figure out what in the hell was going on. She had questions—lots of them, and she wasn’t going to rest until she got the answers. Olivia climbed out of bed and walked over to her desk. She grabbed one end and pulled the corner free from the wall. She pushed the desk over to cover the hole, flipped open her laptop, and sat down.

Olivia drummed her fingers impatiently on the desk as she waited for the internet to load up. She entered “sight” into the Google search engine and hit the enter button.
If Liam won’t tell me what’s going on then, I’m going to find out myself.

Several hits came up, and she opened the first result, anxious to find the answers that would help her figure out what was happening to her. The first website was a bust. It was nothing more than a generic description of eyesight that turned into a detailed explanation of the eye’s mechanical working. She searched more of the sites listed below and found similar explanations. Olivia huffed. She was getting nowhere. She scrolled back up to the search engine and typed in “the sight.” Several new links popped up, and Olivia clicked the first one she saw.

Her eyes quickly skimmed the first line and her heart began to pound with dread. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she reached out to grip the edge of her desk to sturdy herself. Its smooth hard texture grounded her as proof that she wasn’t dreaming, no matter how much she wished that were the case.

The Sight: There has been a lot of debate over the years as to whether anyone has ever been born with the “gift” of sight—although most have often referred to it as a curse. Those who claim to have the sight, say they possess the ability to see beyond dimensional borders. These “sighted” individuals report seeing angels and demons walking among us. Although there has never been any way to prove that such abilities truly exist, and some psychologists believe these allegations to be nothing more than the rantings of religious fanatics, research has been unable to disprove the phenomena. Over the years, a few individuals have come forward claiming they have become the victims of demonic attacks…

She stopped reading. The words blurred as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She slammed the lid of her laptop closed and pushed herself away from the desk.
How can this be happening?
It couldn’t possibly be true—could it? But after what happened yesterday, too much of it made sense. Panic seized her, and her stomach turned as bile surged up the back of her throat. She shot out of the chair and stumbled down the hall. Her hand splayed against the wall for support as she dashed into the bathroom. She was going to be sick. Olivia barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach heaved. Over and over her body revolted against the truth.

Olivia reached out and grabbed a towel off the rack and buried her face in it. The soft terry cloth muffled her choking sobs. She had the sickening feeling she knew what Max was, and the thought of him—the thought of him kissing her—his hands on her… She leaned back over the toilet as another wave of nausea hit her.

She was in the middle of brushing her teeth when the doorbell echoed through the house, immediately followed by furious pounding on the door. Olivia froze. Dread instantly seized her heart. What if it was Max? What if he realized she knew his secret? What if he’d come here to kill her?

She ran into her bedroom to look out the window. The Harley was gone, and in its place sat a bright yellow Mustang. The doorbell rang again. She looked down and saw Liam pounding on the door.

“Olivia, open the door or I’m coming in!”

Why was he so upset? Tension poured from him like heat waves. She was about to open the window, to tell him she’d be right down, when he suddenly disappeared right in front of her eyes.

“Are you all right?”

Olivia let out a surprised yelp and spun around to find Liam standing in her bedroom. No effing way that just happened, yet here he was, right before her eyes, wearing a worried scowl on his handsome face.

“Are you all right?” he demanded. His eyes raked over her, head-to-toe. The heat of his gaze warmed her flesh everywhere it touched. Her neck, breasts, waist, legs—bare legs…all the way down to her shell pink manicured toes.

She tucked her wrist behind her back and opened her mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. She was too stunned to speak. It took her another full minute to recover enough to finally find her words.

“
I
should be asking
you
that question. The last time I saw you, you were falling out my second-story bedroom window.” She took a step closer to him and reached up, brushing her fingers across the light pink scar on his cheek.

“Your face, the cut—it’s healed! How is that possible? And how is it possible that you’re standing in my bedroom right now?”

Liam shifted his weight, seemingly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her piercing eyes. He cleared his throat. “Umm, maybe we should have this conversation downstairs. I apologize for barging into your room. When you didn’t answer the door, I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he murmured, turning to walk out of her room.
“It’ll be a lot faster if you just
poofed
your way down there.”
He stopped abruptly, his back ridged. He didn’t turn around to face her. “You’re pissed…”
“Yes, but not at you. I know this isn’t your fault. And I know the truth, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me yourself.”
“Can we please do this downstairs?” He walked away without waiting for her reply.
Liam was already sitting on the couch with Andre in his lap by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. Olivia walked over to him and sat down. She turned to face him and shooed the cat away. Andre meowed a protest before jumping to the ground, then sauntered away, his tail stuck indignantly in the air.
“You hurt his feelings.”
“I’m not even going to ask you how you know that, but I’m sure you’re right. I guess right now I’m a little more concerned with the nervous breakdown I’m having.”
Air rushed from his lungs that sounded a lot like a sigh of defeat. “What do you want to know, Olivia?”
What did she want to know? She wanted to know everything! She wanted to hear the truth. She wanted the answers to the million questions that were running through her mind so fast, she felt like she was going insane. Where should she even start?
“How did you know I needed you yesterday?” This was as good of a place to start as any.
“I just knew. I can’t explain to you how it works, because I don’t understand it myself.”
“Like you
knew
today? You
knew
I was upset. That’s why you looked like you were about to tear the door off the hinges, and why you suddenly appeared in my room—just like last night.”
He nodded.
“Can you read my mind?”
“No. But I can
feel
what you’re feeling,” he confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Really? Then what am I feeling right now?”
“Afraid—confused—hurt…”
He didn’t even pause to think about his response. The answer flowed from the tip of his tongue before she could even finish her sentence, and by the look of regret in his eyes, he was shouldering some of the blame for those emotions.
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” she confessed, breaking his gaze to look down at her hands folded tightly in her lap.
He reached over and took both of her hands in his. He bent his head to the side, trying to make eye contact with her. When she looked back into his beautiful eyes, her vision blurred with tears. “Is that what you think? That there’s something wrong with you?”
“I
know
there’s something wrong with me, Liam. And you know it too. So did those…
things
on the boat yesterday.”
“Olivia, trust me, there is
nothing
wrong with you.”
He seems so sure. But then what’s he supposed to say? “Olivia, you’re a freak.”
“I know what Max is,” she confessed softly. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it was gone so fast, maybe she imagined it. “And I know what you are too,” she added, forcing the words from her mouth before she lost her nerve.
He stiffened like a stone statue in the seat beside her. The steady rise and fall of his chest ceased, his grip on her hands tightening ever so slightly. He didn’t speak—didn’t move.
Oh shit!
Her anxiety soared. Could he feel it? If he did, he certainly gave no indication of it as she sat there with her heart slamming erratically inside her chest, waiting for him to say something—anything.
“Say it then,” he challenged, his voice a low, husky whisper. “What do you think I am?”
Olivia hesitated. Her mouth suddenly went dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she tried to speak. This was all so surreal. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, louder and louder, as she returned his stare.
“You’re an angel.”
As soon as the words passed her lips, she heard Liam’s breath catch in his throat. Her mind raced when he didn’t deny it. His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her want to look away and curl up in a ball. A fresh spring of tears flooded her eyes. She anxiously bit the inside of her bottom lip until the tangy copper flavor of her blood touched her tongue. “Say something,” she cried, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.
“I don’t know what to say, Olivia. I cannot deny what you say that I am.”
She let out an audible gasp at his confession. A single teardrop spilled over her lid and rolled down her cheek, landing on his hand. She looked down at the splatter of moisture wicking into his skin like a raindrop in the desert. She glanced back up to see his eyes flash brightly as he stared down at her wrist.
“Your wrist!” He lifted her hand and gently turned it, carefully inspecting the dark purple bruises. “That son of a bitch!” he snarled. “He did this to you! I swear to the Father I’m going to kill him!”
The heat of his anger blasted into her like a furnace. Her pulse quickened in response to his energy surge. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who could feel the other’s emotions, because what she got from him right now was rage, possessiveness and something else she wasn’t sure she should even let herself consider.
This was crazy. No way could he be projecting his emotions onto her. But she couldn’t deny that something definitely happened when he touched her. “It’s fine.” Olivia tried to pull her hand back, but he wouldn’t let her go. She looked away, self-conscious under the scrutiny of those brilliant amethyst eyes. Before she could protest any further, he lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to one of the bruises on her wrist. Liquid heat slowly spread up her arm, and it felt like the sun shone on her skin, but from the inside out. Radiant warmth bathed her in a soothing, tranquil bliss. She closed her eyes, drinking in the energy as it coursed through her veins, spreading like a wildfire with every rapid beat of her heart.
All too soon the blissful heat disappeared, along with the touch of Liam's lips. Olivia opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. His indescribable beauty verily stole her breath. She looked away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze for another moment. Glancing down at her wrist, she gasped.
“They're gone. My bruises are gone! How is this possible?”
“I heal quickly. I transferred some of my energy into you.”
“Do you do that very often?”
He shook his head. “No, it weakens me, and I need my strength…”
“Because of Max. He’s trying to kill me, isn’t he?” She boldly met his eyes, daring him to deny it.
The phone rang, interrupting his response. Olivia didn’t move, but continued to stare at him, waiting for his answer.
“You should get that,” he replied softly. “It’s Ashley.”
“How do you—Oh…” she huffed, marching into the kitchen. If he thought answering the phone was going to get him off the hook, he had another thing coming. She picked up the phone just before the answering machine got it.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
Holy crap, Ashley sounded terrible. “Hey, Ash, what’s wrong?” Olivia peeked her head around the corner, checking to make sure Liam was still there.
“I’m sick. I don’t think I’m going to make it over today. Is that all right?”
“No. It’s fine. We can reschedule. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. You want me to bring some lunch over after yoga?”
“No! Don’t come! I uh…wouldn’t want you to catch it.”
“Seriously, Ash, I doubt I’m going to catch it. I never get sick, you know that.”
“Just don’t risk it. Ok? I’m fine…really.”
She didn’t sound fine. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know. Otherwise, call me tomorrow. I hope you feel better. Bye, Ash.”
Olivia hung up the phone and walked into the living room, her face pinched into a worried frown. Something just didn’t feel right. “Ashley’s sick. She had to cancel our plans today. I hope she’s okay, cuz she sounded like crap.”
“You should go get ready for class, before you’re late. I’ll drive you. You know Ronnie hates it when you’re late.” Liam’s reserved tone made her pause.
She glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall above the couch. Shit, she was going to be late. “Liam, we’ve got to talk.”
“We will.”
“I’m scared.”
He reached out and took her hand, pulling her down to sit beside him. “I know you are, but nothing’s changed. I’m here for you, just like I always have been.”
“I don’t even know if what I’m seeing is real. I feel like I’m losing my mind!” She choked back a sob.
He gently brushed her tears away with his thumbs and cradled her face in his hands. “It’s real,” he whispered.
Olivia closed her eyes and let her tears flow, no longer trying to hold them back. She drew on the calming strength his touch provided. Wow, an angel…her angel. The connection she felt to him stirred desires in her she ought not to have. But it was already too late, she was falling in love with him.
It’s too soon, she rationalized, but the ache in her heart and the heat stirring in the pit of her stomach spoke a truth that no words proved otherwise. More than anything now, she desired to feel his spicy rich lips against hers again, to revel in the heat of his embrace. She wet her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, remembering the kiss they shared yesterday. Already, it felt like a lifetime ago.
She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her with a pained expression on his handsome face. Looking into his eyes was like watching a beautiful violent storm of dark blue clouds come rolling in. She knew that color—she loved that color. She sensed he wanted to kiss her, but yet he resisted. Why?
Olivia leaned forward, but stopped before her lips touched his, desperately needing to understand what she was feeling. He overwhelmed her senses. Her heart raced, and the heat in the pit of her stomach burned like it’d been doused with lighter fluid. Still, he did not kiss her. The tension between them was tactile, slowly driving her mad.
“Don’t you want to kiss me?” she whispered, so close to his mouth, she could feel the heat of his short, panting breaths against her parted lips.
“Olivia…” Her name sounded as rough as sandpaper. She barely recognized the tight, strangled rasp of his voice.
“Liam, I want you to kiss me.”
A dark, tortured growl tore from his throat as he pressed his lips to hers. Her arms circled his corded, muscular neck as he crawled over her, moving with a speed and fluid grace that sent a rush of desire surging through her veins. She felt his kiss all the way to her toes, and moaned softly, parting her lips in an invitation for him to go deeper. He did. His tongue tasted every crevice of her mouth, and his hips pressed against her, leaving no mistake about his need.
Her hands shook as she worked to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. He tore his mouth from hers and gasped when she ran her hands over the hard, defined muscles of his bare chest.
“Olivia,” he groaned painfully, burying his face into the side of her neck, hips pressing forward, pushing her deeper into the cushions of the couch. His hands fisted into her hair, pulling her head to the side as his tongue brushed against the rapid pulse beating in her throat.
“Liam…” she whispered his name as her hands slid down his ridged stomach, heading lower. He suddenly tensed beneath her fingertips, his lips stilled against her neck.
“We can’t do this,” he rasped. “We just can’t. You’re not mine to have.”
Her heart ached from the pain and regret in his voice. She was tempted to hang on when he pulled away from her. He shrugged his wide, muscular shoulders into his shirt and turned his back to her as he quickly refastened the buttons. He sighed heavily, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair.
“Liam?” She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn back and look at her.
“Olivia, please…” He sounded like he was in physical pain. “Just go get ready for work and I’ll take you.”
She sat there another minute, hoping he’d turn back around and look her—talk to her. He said she wasn’t his, but she was. Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t he feel it? Or maybe he didn’t want her. Why should he? Why would he? He was an angel. An amazing creature that was so much more than she could ever hope to be. A design of perfection, and here she was, practically throwing herself at him. Heat rose to her cheeks, colored by shame and embarrassment because she knew deep down, at that moment, she would have given herself to him. And he knew it too. How could she be so stupid?
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Olivia.”
She barely heard his whispered words, spoken softly to her living room wall. A fresh wave of humiliation shot through her, fueled by a surge of indignant anger. “Stay out of my head, Liam!” Olivia shot up from the couch and ran upstairs as fast as her legs could carry her.