Page 111 of Poison Aches

And this time, something glints in the ever-icy emeralds that makes my breath catch.

“I’d pay good money to watch,” Emmett Easton says in his rich, deep, dark voice that sends all my brain cells into a non-functioning state.

I blink, my jaw slack, my body starting to tremble.

“Angel.”

EMMETT

Her name rips out from my lips an entire heartbeat before I can recant it back.

Like a man walking to his own execution, I step closer to the ire of my existence and just take her in.

Not that I haven’t seen her…I have. Just three days ago, in fact.

But I’ve also seen her in places where she thinks no one notices her.

I know she has been crying; I watched her mini show of falling apart and pulling herself together in the airport.

Just as she has always done her whole life.

Must be exhausting, having to glue yourself together when the broken vessel is wet and sticky with old and new tears.

She’s trouble, this girl, and yet, as she looks up at me, I feel it again. A kick in my entire system, as if I’ve just been rebooted… effectively.

“Did you miss me?” I ask softly and her lips drop open just slightly, making a perfect “O” that makes me think of something ridiculous.

“Emmett,” she utters my name as if she’s out of breath, delighted, and scared all at the same time.

I watch as a whole plethora of emotions play across her beautiful face, but her eyes are the honest feature where everything else is a farce.

Angel’s big doe brown eyes blink several times at me.

First is shock. Which is weird, I did warn her I’d come for her.

Second is surprise… and not the good kind.

Which leads to suspicion, apprehension, caution, and defense systems on high alert.

I almost smile.

That’s her true self. A guarded, cautious liar.

“W-what are you doing here?” she stutters, looking up at me.

"Shouldn’t I be here?” I hold her gaze.

“On a commercial plane?”

“I’m not a snob.”

“Just an asshole, then.”

“I’ve never claimed to be a saint.”

Angel rolls her eyes, then she stares up at me with a tinge of annoyance.

“Is this a coincidence?” she asks seriously.

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