Amanda Bonilla - When Shadows Call

Mine .

* * *

I floated in darkness, held secure as if wrapped in a cocoon. Something surrounded my body, encased it. Soft as silk and warm. It flowed over my skin, twining and reaching around my limbs until every inch of me was covered. Bliss . My eyelids fluttered as I came closer to wakefulness, but I fought against opening my eyes. I wanted to stay here in this shadowy realm where nothing could touch me.

As if swimming to the surface from the murky depths of the ocean, my mind floated closer to awareness. I pushed all physical sensation aside and followed the path of conscious thought, searching through the dark for a clue, some memory to help connect me to the moment. I flinched, an act so involuntary I couldn’t control it. Henry’s fist smashed into my face. I drew my knees up to protect my ribs as he kicked me. Tears squeezed through the lids of my eyes and ran down my cheeks. The memory was still so fresh in my mind, the images flashing like lightning against a navy blue sky.

My heart slammed into my ribcage, the panic welling up to the point that I thought it would explode right out of me. But then the blissful sensations of silky shadows caressed my skin. Dancing around me like graceful serpents, they sensed my fear and cradled me in their warm embrace. Inch by inch, I relaxed and my body uncoiled itself. Even my fingers—clenched into fists—uncurled and came to rest.

Dare I open my eyes? Yes , something deep inside of me responded, an urging I couldn’t resist. There is nothing to fear . But whether or not fear had a place in my life anymore, I knew Henry had beaten me nearly to death. I searched back, grasping onto a sliver of memory. How had I survived his wrath? I remembered lying on the floor, unable to shield myself from his heavy-handed blows as I prayed for death. And something else. . . . A man. A vengeful angel gliding through the glass doors of the parlor to rescue me. “Azriel.” His name escaped my parted lips in a whisper. I didn’t bother peeking through lowered lashes. Nor did I take the cautious route by opening only one eye to steal a glance. I had to know if he’d really saved me or if it had all been a cruel dream. A deep breath held in my chest was all the preparation I needed, and when I exhaled, I opened both of my eyes wide.

I expected to be welcomed by glaring daylight, but the room was dark. I couldn’t discern the time of day, but even though no lights illuminated my surroundings and the curtains didn’t betray a shred of daylight, I could see as well as if it were the gray hours of early morning. With less effort than I expected, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. The bed I lay in was not my own; the surroundings, unfamiliar. From the looks of it, I’d been moved to an inn or hotel room. What had happened while darkness held me? Where was Henry? Who had taken me and to where? Had it been Azriel, or had my mind deceived me? My pulse thrummed in my ears—though from excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell—as I once again felt the delicious pull . . . the soft, silky warmth tugging at my skin.

Still fascinated with my heightened eyesight, I brought my hand to my face. The skin on my fingertips seemed to quaver, shrouded by darkness and becoming solid once more. I am no longer myself , I thought, and my breath sped in my chest with the realization. Like a contented feline, I stretched my limbs, aware of the fact that I no longer felt the pain of my many injuries. In fact, I’d never felt so invigorated or strong. My God, how long had I been floating in dark nothingness, and what had changed me?

Lamplight flickered to life in the corner of the room and I sensed Azriel nearby, his life force pulsing like a beacon through the fog. A sweet and spicy scent, like a field of pansies beneath the summer sun, permeated my senses, and I breathed deeply, holding the aroma in my lungs.

“What’s happened to me?” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest.

Dark mist stirred at my bedside and Azriel materialized from shadow. I stared in wide-eyed wonder as he sat beside me and brought my fingers to his mouth, bestowing a gentle kiss on my knuckles. “Fate has claimed you, Darian. No mortal will dare harm you again.”

Chapter 3

I jerked my hand from Azriel’s grasp and scooted as far away from him as possible. As if his lips had burned my skin, I rubbed the spot on my knuckles where his mouth had all but branded me. How had I not noticed the heat pouring from his body the first time we’d met? “What have you done to me?” I blurted. Nothing could calm the tremor in my voice, though I prayed I’d sound strong. “Where am I? Where’s Henry? What has happened to him?”

Azriel laughed, and the sound of it brought gooseflesh to the surface of my skin. I clenched my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. I wouldn’t be able to stand the shame if he noticed how the sound of his gentle laughter affected me. “Worried for your husband?” Azriel asked, incredulous. “Why would you waste a passing thought of concern for him? Did he not beat you nearly to death?”

He had. So many times he’d abused me. But he was my husband. I’d made sacred vows to him, and despite his cruelty, Henry was a soul-sick man who deserved my compassion rather than my contempt. “Is he dead?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

“As a doornail.”

His brash answer elicited a startled gasp. He chuckled again as if to say, Your shock is so adorable, my dear . How could he treat a man’s death in such a cavalier manner––a death he had delivered with his own hands? “How?” The question was idiotic. I knew how. But the words escaped my mouth before I could think better of it.

“How else?” Azriel asked, unfazed. “Your dear spouse lived by the sword, therefore he died by it. Can you think of a more fitting end for the bastard?”

I inched further from Azriel until I found myself perched on the edge of the bed. My fingers trailed from my throat to the delicate lace collar and bodice of my dress that Henry had ripped in his rage. My husband was dead. Gone. Forever.

And I was finally free.

Azriel’s dark gaze locked with mine and a wave of fear washed over me. Perhaps freedom wasn’t the best word to describe my current situation. His eyes roamed over me, traveling with wanton disregard for propriety, making me feel exposed—undressed—naked beneath his heated gaze.

“Extraordinary,” he murmured.

“I can hear you,” I said, my fear swept away by bemusement. “Just now, I heard you.”

Azriel shrugged. “What of it?”

What of it, indeed? His lips had barely moved, the words spoken more to himself. And yet I’d heard him crystal clear as if he’d spoken the word against my ear. “What have you done to me?” I asked again, panic racing through my veins like liquid fire. “What are you?”

“Perhaps you should be asking that of yourself,” Azriel said, leaning in toward me. He reached out with one hand and it melted into shadow, the tendrils sweeping up his strong arm and shoulder to transform the limb into a graceful, twining ribbon of darkness. His shadows inched toward me, as if seeking me out and curled around my neck, caressing my skin with a gentleness I’d never experienced until this moment. And rather than scream in fear, or launch myself from the bed, my body reacted, drawn to him like metal to a magnet. My eyes drifted shut of their own accord and I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my lips. Bliss .

“Yes,” Azriel whispered, the ‘s’ slipping out in a sensual hiss. “You were meant for this, Darian. You have always belonged to the shadows.”

The fear and anxiety siphoned from my body and I lost myself to sensation. Every nerve ending in my body sparked to life, and I wanted more . More of those delicious shadows caressing my skin. More warm, comforting dark. More of him . “Please . . .” I didn’t dare open my eyes. I couldn’t trust myself to meet his gaze with anything but desire in mine. “Please,” I said again. But what was I pleading for?