Page 51 of A Touch of Dark
The moment he’s gone, I whirl on the remaining intruder. My palms connect with his chest and I shove hard. He barely even flinches. Fine. I settle for slapping him instead. I’ve barely connected with his cheek before my wrist is captured in his grip.
“You’re hysterical.” He sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself of that fact in order to maintain his composure. The last time I slapped him, he issued a warning. I won’t let it happen again.
“I’mhysterical?” My voice echoes back to me. A stranger’s. “You sick, fucking—”
“Whatever you experienced just now, I was not behind it.” The certainty in his tone robs me of rage before I’m ready.
“Liar.” I try hitting him again, but I miss. The world spins and I wind up clutching his forearm instead. Too tightly.
When he loosens his grip on my wrist, I expect him to shove me off. He finds my shoulder instead and loops his fingers around the sleeve of my T-shirt, keeping me upright.
“Trust me, Ms. Thorne. When I come for you, I won’t have to break down your door.”
I want him to be lying. Which makes no damn sense. He shouldn’t be preferable to any other monster hunting me. Desperate to prove it, I latch onto the one thing his sudden arrival has made clear.
“How many bugs do you have hidden in my room?” My lips nearly graze his chest with every motion. He’s too close. But he displays no intention to back away.
“Three. The one by your bed was the clearest, however.”
“Well, I hope you enjoyed your final show,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
He says nothing.Oh?I rake my gaze upward and find his expression…pinched? Unnaturally stiff jawline. Furrowed brow. He listened to my private show, all right.
And I should feel disgusted by that. Horribly violated.
Not…curious.
“Let go of me.”
He does, but for some reason, my hand still grips him tightly.
“I want you to get the hell out—”
Darkness. Without warning, the lights shut off. A second later, lightning flashes.
And I’m miles away.
Are you afraid of the dark, Juliana? Think they’ll find you soon?
Let’s play another game.
“What’s wrong?”
That voice was too deep. Not Simon. I blink, panting as I interpret my surroundings. Dark…but warm. No trees. I’m in my apartment again, but the man with me now shouldn’t sound so damn concerned. And I shouldn’t be clinging to him like a frightened child. I make a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but his hand remains on my shoulder, imparting just enough pressure to steady me.
“Power’s out.” I intend to sound unaffected. Not breathless. Blackouts were always the worst trigger. Sudden. Unexpected. After a summer of violent storms, Daddy had to buy a backup generator just to keep me—
“The outage must be a result of the storm,” Damien replies smoothly. “There is a generator.”
As if the building heeds his request, the power whirls back to life. My collection of lights would usually inspire relief. Not alarm. Apart from a voyeuristic asshole listening in, no one ever sees me like this. Panting. Eyes watering. Shaking.
“You should leave now,” I croak, my obligatory rebuff. I don’t sense any indication from him that he intends to. Yet, anyway.
Apparently, Damien has something he wants to say. I decide to beat him to the punch.
“Is that how you spy on me?” I’m eyeing the device attached to his left ear, barely noticeable against his dark hair. Only after a second do I realize he can’t interpret the gesture. “With what’s in your ear?”
He boldly fingers the device and lifts his shoulders in the semblance of a shrug. “I have a direct feed at another location.” Smart man for not saying where. “This helps to supplement what I prefer to call oppositional research.”
