Page 33 of Dark Island: Rescue
Julian shrugged. "It might happen." He turned and walked out, stopping at the door. "Stay with her. I'll be back." He closed the door behind him.
Edgar pulled the chair closer to the hospital bed and took Angelica's hand in his. Her nails were perfect as always, with an intricate design that changed every few days. Today, they were black, with gold dollar signs on each.
The market was doing well, and Angelica was paying tribute to it with her nail design.
"I should have told you," he murmured. "I was a coward."
With Jasmine, it had been intense from the start. That immediate attraction, the adventure in Tibet, the danger and excitement of searching for the Kra-ell pod. He'd fallen for her hard and fast, but looking back, what had he really fallen for? Her beauty? The thrill of competition with Max? The exotic locale?
Had he even known Jasmine?
Then he'd fancied the comatose princess for about two minutes, but that was because Jasmine chose Morelle's twin brother, and some petty part of Edgar had thought it would be poetic justice to pursue Morelle. He'd never been really interested. She was beautiful, and something in her vulnerability had called to him, but they weren't meant for each other. He was happy Morelle had found her true mate in Brandon.
Angelica was so different from both of them.
She was down to earth in ways that enchanted him, loud where Jasmine had been mysterious, funny in ways Morelle could never be. She told him exactly what she thought, usually at volume, with elaborate hand gestures and the occasional colorful profanity. After a successful trade, she would announce loudly that she was a fucking financial genius and offer to celebrate with champagne or sex or both.
She made him laugh hysterically at her mimicry of clients and entertained him with her running commentary on market fluctuations. She shared with him her dreams for the nail salon empire she was building whilecooking the most mouthwatering Italian dishes straight from her mother's kitchen.
"I'm going to call it 'Nailed It,'" she'd told him last month in bed while wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. "Get it? Because nails, of course, but also because I'm nailing the business plan."
He'd fallen for her slowly, steadily, in a way that snuck up on him. It wasn't the burning passion he'd felt for Jasmine, that jealous need to possess and be possessed. With Angelica, it was deeper and quieter even when she was being her loudest. It was comfortable and exciting at the same time.
With Angelica, he never felt like he needed space to breathe. He missed her when she wasn't with him, her energy, her warmth, the way she filled up a room, any room.
When she woke up, he'd tell her about immortals and Dormants, about her cousin Frankie's transition, and about the heritage that flowed through her mother's bloodline.
He would also tell her that he loved her.
13
DROVA
The dark sunglasses were giving Drova a headache, but they were better than dealing with the construction workers' reactions to her eyes. She'd tried going without them for exactly five minutes before deciding that men tumbling down ladders in fear of her would upset Kian.
Now she stood near the training facility, observing the construction crews working while looking like a wannabe action movie star. Come to think of it, she could be an incredible stunt double. She would be unmatched.
Drova allowed herself to fantasize about that glamorous life for a moment, but then Kalugal arrived and spoiled it for her.
"You know you don't have to wear the glasses," he said.
Even on a humid tropical island, the immortal managed to look like he'd stepped out of a boardroom,his lightweight shirt somehow remaining wrinkle-free and dry despite the humidity.
"Tell that to the guy who nearly fell off the scaffolding when he got a look at my eyes." Drova adjusted the sunglasses, which kept sliding down her nose. Human accessories weren't designed for Kra-ell facial structure, and she'd forgotten to pack the one pair that actually fit well. These belonged to Syssi, who had graciously parted with them so Drova wouldn't scare the workforce away.
"They'll get used to you. We're going to thrall them all anyway and make them forget all the oddities they've seen."
"If any of the workmen fall to their deaths, it's on you." She took the sunglasses off and tucked them in one of the many pockets of her cargo pants.
"You looked good in them, though."
She rolled her eyes. "Decide. Do you want me to wear them or not?"
"It's up to you. If you want to make a fashion statement with your all-black outfit, then why not? I like the intimidating chic."
"Thank you," she said sarcastically. "I don't need to dress any particular way to be intimidating. I just am."
A worker carrying a load of electrical supplies walked past, did a double take at Drova's eyes, and promptly walked into a support beam. The sound of metal conduits clattering across the concrete was spectacular.
