Kate Evangelista - Til Death

He picked his way to her bedside, avoiding any more creaking floorboards. Maybe the lack of air to his head after his near strangling dulled his common sense. Shit. He slowly realized when it came to this copper-curled girl, he had no common sense. He should have been in bed. But no. Instead, he found himself standing like an idiot beside her bed. Shirtless.

Dillan never thought of himself as a creeper until this moment. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. His gaze traveled to her leg. It was the only part besides her head not covered by the comforter. Someone had pushed up the pant leg of her pajama bottoms. Her white skin stood out in the darkness. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The icepack had fallen off her knee, exposing the beginnings of an ugly bruise.

The invisible force spurred him onward, rubbing the charm on his wrist. The blue sparks of his sword lit up the room. Small flames of his energy danced on top of Selena’s comforter without burning the fabric. Mesmerized by her sleeping face, he closed both hands around the hilt and positioned the tip of the blade over her body.

Selena

It’s a Miracle—Or Not

Morning light made my eyelids warm and heavy. I didn’t want to open them for the rest of the day, but the chirping birds outside said “Wake up! Wake up!” The smell of peonies filled the deep breath I exhaled into a yawn. I stretched sleepy arms, coaxing them awake instead of giving in to the temptation of rolling over and sleeping some more. My skin tingled when deliciously soft fabric rubbed against my body.

Several lazy blinks later, I remembered the project and the sleepover. I groaned into a pillow. Did I have to wake up? Did I have to face another day involving his highness, National Geographic? I couldn’t take another minute of him. And that electric hug? Wow. My skin tingled just thinking about it. And he kept asking what I was like I wasn’t human or something. Definitely weird. Then he gets all cold and serious on me before he becomes all hot and sexy again carrying me back to the manor. He confused the hell out of me.

My gaze landed on the nightstand. The clock had its short hand on the nine and its long hand just before the twelve. A melted ice pack lay beside it. The fog of sleep lifted. I pulled away the covers and rolled out of bed without thinking. The instant my weight settled on both legs, I looked down.

No pain.

I tugged at the pant leg of my pajama bottoms. The swelling and bruising I vaguely remembered Riona treating last night wasn’t there anymore. I experimentally shifted all my weight to my supposedly injured leg. Still no pain. It didn’t make sense. I touched the ice pack, sliding it to the edge of the dresser. Sure, an ice pack could ease swelling, but a bruised knee healing overnight? Not possible. Or was it?

…

After getting dressed, walking down the hallway to the grand staircase without a limp became a surreal experience. Just like being chased by corpses—or whatever Dillan had called them. I half-expected the pain to come back when I least expected. It forced me to hold onto the railing just in case. Tumbling and breaking my neck wasn’t allowed.

The clink of utensils hitting plates and pleasant conversation stopped me just outside the archway entrance of the dining room. I stared at my jeans. I was sure what happened last night did happen. The pain had been real.

“Is there something the matter, Selena?” My head whipped up, and Riona’s eyebrows rose.

All previous conversation and eating stopped.

I straightened so fast I momentarily lost my balance.

Everyone sat—plates in front of them—with different expressions on their faces. Riona looked curious. Garret, who sat at the other end of the table in a dove gray suit, glanced at me once then went back to reading his morning paper. Kyle looked panicked for a second before putting on his usual calm. Dillan looked disinterested, while Constance got up and rushed to my side.

“I heard you fell last night. Does the knee still hurt?” she asked with genuine sympathy. “Do you need help getting to the table?”

I stared at Constance, unsure of what Dillan told them about last night. Deciding to play it cool, I said, “Actually, it doesn’t hurt anymore. The swelling’s gone. That was some ice pack you gave me, Riona.”

Kyle exchanged an odd glance with Riona before going back to eating his stack of pancakes. Riona’s beautiful face showed concern, but she said nothing. She pushed back from the table and walked over on dancer’s feet.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, sweet.” She held my face between her hands and kissed my cheekbones.

I endured her kisses and wondered why no one seemed concerned over my sudden recovery.

Riona led me to a buffet at one side of the dining room. It was filled with platters of pancakes, bacon, several cuts of cheese, toast, an assortment of cereal, sausages, eggs, and the usual breakfast beverages: orange juice, milk, coffee, and tea. The amount of food on that table could feed all the customers at Maggie’s at full capacity and still have leftovers. She went overboard. Usually—having only me and Penny over—she’d let us make our own breakfast.

“Come, Constance, let’s let Selena get her breakfast.” She pulled the smiling girl back to where she sat beside Kyle.

Confused, I surveyed the room.

Everyone resumed eating their breakfast like normal, regular people. But after what happened last night, the normal didn’t seem…well, normal. The scene reminded me of an obscure movie Kyle took me to a couple years ago about a girl that discovered the people in her hometown had been changed by aliens into mindless puppets. There was this part where the girl was telling her family at breakfast about the aliens. She didn’t know they had been changed, too. They turned on her, trying to kill her with forks and butter knives.

I grabbed a plate from the stack at the beginning of the buffet when my fears of being attacked went away. Once I picked out scrambled eggs and bacon, I carried my meal over to the dining room table. The only seat available was next to Dillan.

A table that could sit twelve comfortably only had six chairs. And—except for Garret—we were all seated near the head. Of all the freakin’ luck. Eating on the floor seemed like the better choice, but I doubted Riona would let me. I stifled the urge to move the chair closer to Garret’s end and sat down beside Mr. Rock-Star-National-Geographic.

“Feeling better?”

I flinched at his question. The temperature in the room went up a few more degrees. My body remembered how his arms felt wrapped around me. I sneaked a peek at his hand—holding his mug of coffee firmly—and my back tingled. My body turned traitor against my head. For some reason, I wanted to feel the electricity again.

“I’m fine,” I answered before stuffing my mouth with eggs to avoid saying anything else. It led to swallowing wrong and a coughing fit.

Dillan, with a neutral expression, handed me his glass of OJ.

I took the glass and gulped down the pulpy juice, causing more coughs.

“Easy.” He patted my back. Tiny zings coincided with each one. I guess, be careful what you wish for, huh?

Everyone watched us in silence at first. Then, like a bomb about to blow, a mass retreat followed. Kyle stood up, muttering something about getting the living room ready. Constance took a last sip of her hot chocolate before running after him. Riona commented about going into the garden, and Garret chuckled his way out, folded newspaper tucked under his arm.

“What just happened?” I covered my mouth, smothering the last of my coughs.

“Way to clear a room.” Dillan whistled. “Slow down. Don’t make me have to use the Heimlich on you.”