Page 155 of Poison Aches

Then, a pair of strong, muscular arms go around me, and I’m lifted up bridal style like it’s nothing.

My body is pressed into a hard, solid chest. It’s warm. And the scent, Jesus… it smells so good, but my common sense comes back.

“Hey, stop,” I mutter. I can hear how weak my voice sounds. “Put me down.”

“Shut up, Angel.”

Angel…

Only one person in this world never calls me by name.

From the moment he decided to let me in his life, he’s called me Angel.

And that voice…

I glance up and notice his strong jaw that seems to be clenching and unclenching in staccato, almost matching the rhythm of my heart.

But I still can’t believe he’s here.

There’s only ever one test for me to confirm it’s him so with hesitation, and a split second away from passing out, I lean over and press my cheek and ear against the left side of his chest and…

Beat.

Silence.

Silence.

A long-ass silence.

Then a stuttering beat.

Like a tortured groan.

Slow, barely there, agonized but still with power.

“Emmett,” I mutter weakly.

“Even now, when you’re about to fucking die, you still want to know if that damn thing is still beating,” a terse, gruff voice says in my ear.

Yup. It’s the brooding asshole of Westbrook Blues all right.

“I told you…” I whisper. “I might die way before you ever do.”

Silence greets me at that, but I feel the hands around me clench, and I’m pulled even tighter.

“With what you’ve been up to lately, your self-prophecy will come to pass,” he murmurs against me and then he’s moving.

“You caused trouble again,” he continues in a deep voice as he stares at me.

When our eyes connect, his narrow just a bit.

“Mr. Easton—” Governor Hughes starts in obvious shock. “Y-you’re here!”

Is that excitement and a bit of trepidation in Governor Hughes’ voice?

“Isn’t that what you wanted, Governor?”

“Of course, of course,” Governor Hughes quickly says, slightly out of breath, as he follows after us.

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