Page 57 of Drawn Blue Lines

My heart slammed against my chest, and I gripped the chair until my arms shook. I knew that voice, but I couldn’t remember why. All I knew was that the soft melodic cadence didn’t belong in my circle of hell. “Who’s there?”

In response, the temperature plummeted, and the short, ragged breaths torn from my lungs materialized in front of me as a labored mist. The smoke didn’t part, and she didn’t walk through it, but a dark-haired woman in a white flowing dress emerged, almost as if they were two combined entities. When she lifted her head, I stared into familiar warm chocolate eyes dotted with gold.

Mother.

It was an illusion. The human eye was nothing but a passive slave to the brain’s whims. The mind was a sadistic bastard, easily tricking it into seeing whatever it wanted.

“Was it worth it?” Raising a hand, she pointed toward my chest. My eyes followed her finger, trailing down to the source of that pungent metallic smell. Every part of me was covered in blood. But it wasn’t mine.

“They were all guilty,” I said, offering an emotionless stare to the death lying at my feet. “They hurt me. They deserved this.”

“Not all of them.” Her haunted eyes lowered directly in front of the base of the throne. I really didn’t have time to play games with her, but I leaned forward to humor her.

Then I screamed.

Two tiny hands. Two tiny feet. Two dark and empty eyes begging me why.

My stomach roiled, and the world spun as their burned and bloodied bodies lay tattered before me, their innocent faces frozen in fear.

“No!” I screamed again. “I would never hurt a child! I only took revenge on those who hurt me so I could kill the beast!”

“Cariño, you can’t slay a dragon when you’re the one breathing its fire.”

My eyes popped open at the familiar words, only to look into the cold eyes of my brother. “Val?” His name broke as the bravado I’d held onto came crashing down around me.

“Pity that it was all for nothing,” he taunted, baring his teeth in a chilling smile while nodding at my bloody clothes. “It appears the dragon doesn’t need you anymore.”

“What?” I looked down to find a gaping hole in my stomach. “No!” I cried as I pressed both hands over the wound in a pathetic attempt to stop the bleeding, but it pumped out faster than I could stop it.

I slumped against my throne, a damned queen living her inevitable truth. As more blood spilled, I grew weaker. With my last breath, I turned to face my brother, but he was gone. In his place the glowing tip of a cigar sparked to life and a man’s cheeks sank in as he sucked a few deep puffs.

Leaning down, his weathered face split into a stained smile. “You’re a Carrera whore.”

I sat up and screamed his name until I was hoarse, thrashing against a cocoon of sheets and blankets. Caught between two worlds, I desperately clawed my way out of hell, the image of his smile shoving me to near hysteria.

“Adriana!”

I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

There was a groan, and fire ignited behind my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Adriana! Wake up!”

Brody?

Brightness burned my eyes the minute they cracked open, and my body felt like it had gone twelve rounds in an octagon. Fighting the urge to lash out, I shielded a hand over my eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the invasion. When the spots finally cleared, I scanned the room only to find it empty.

“Over here, genius.”

Suddenly wide awake, I turned toward the sound of his voice with both barrels loaded only to stare openmouthed at what stood in the doorway.

Brody had both hands over his head, palms splayed and braced against the side molding. His sleepy face was framed by what could only be described as wild and chaotic sex hair. Yet again, he was shirtless, his arm position accentuating every toned muscle. Loose fitting sleep pants hung low on his waist—untied, of course, because, why not. But tied or untied, loose fit or suctioned with a vacuum seal—none of it mattered. Nothing on Earth would hide the imprint resting on his right thigh.

“See something you like?”

My head snapped up so fast, I about gave myself whiplash. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“You were screaming my name.”

“I was not.”

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