Page 64 of Dark Angel

“It’s fine. The aching is gone.”

His mouth tightens as he nods in understanding. “Come on, I’ll take you home to rest. Kora can ride with the Chiswick’s.”

23

The Spilling of Blood

The creature observes her from afar. The shimmering gilded dress is like a beacon calling out in the drenching moonlight. Short tawny hair, sleek and shiny, dances around the nape of her neck. Her pale skin is lightly freckled. Bright chocolate eyes beam as she glances around cautiously, nerves bite at her flesh.

It takes another step closer, its leather boot crunching in the stony dirt below. The sound sweeps through the quiet street.

Mabel halts, eyes darting around, trying to catch sight of anyone. She’s nervous about where the sound travelled from.

“Hello?” She calls out anxiously.

The creature can see panic flaring across her angelic face. It takes another step and Mabel’s head snaps in the figure’s direction.

Her expression changes as she sees it lurking in the shadows, dressed in black, face hidden by darkness.

With a gasp, Mabel fumbles for her skirt, hiking up the material and pulling out the dagger slotted into the sheath wrapped tightly around her thigh.

Grabbing onto the hilt, she feels the blade piercing her side. Instantly, a flurry of pain streams across her skin and floods her blood. Poison eats away at her nerves as Mabel stumbles backwards.

The poison spreads rapidly though her as the creature smirks slyly. It stalks towards her slowly, watching her gasp for air and writheon the ground, screams getting caught in her throat as Mabel struggles to breathe.

Her dagger slips from her grip as she thrashes on her back. Blood trickles from the gash where the blade remains embedded in her side.

Body going numb, Mabel’s chocolate eyes glass over as the creature looms over her, watching as the girl gasps her final breath.

With a satisfied grunt, the creature removes the blade, scarlet liquid pouring out and pooling around her body into the dusty street. It poises the metal tip, whispering something under its breath while ripping open her shiny gilded gown and cutting deep circles into her flesh.

*?*?*

The morning glow lights up her quarters enough for Valarie to make out her furniture pushed up against the walls. She rolls over, her body entangled in her bedsheets.

Thinking back to the last night’s events, she can’t help but grin to herself. Dancing with Lewis. Chatting with her friends. Drinking a lot of champagne. Leaving with Lewis and spending the evening with him.

She feels her cheeks flush with warmth as she thinks about him lying with her, touching her and kissing her all over. Their bodies were bare and lying flush against each other. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.

The familiar scent of parchment and ink lingers in her nose. A soft breath hits her forehead. His gentle hand holds her waist as she lies beside him, naked.

Valarie’s blue eyes fly open.

Sitting up, she covers her body with the sheets and gasps down. Lewis is still lying beside her, his black glasses sitting on the smallwooden table alongside her bed. He’s still asleep, his breaths are deep and slow.

“Lewis!” Valarie shouts in a hushed voice. She wakes him by shaking his shoulders hurriedly.

Golden eyes dart around the room, as if he is trying to get his bearings before they land on her. He smiles sleepily for a mere moment before realising what happened. He was supposed to sneak out after she fell asleep, but he must have dozed off beside her.

“You need to leave, now!” Her hushed voice yells again.

Lewis nods, grabbing his glasses off the table. Pushing off the covers, he realises he’s wearing nothing at all. Seizing his clothes off the floor, he pulls on his pants, then throws on his undershirt.

“Hurry!”

“I am, Ari!” His voice is husky and sleepy.

It makes Valarie’s heart melt from hearing him call her that, but the exorbitant amount of adrenaline pumping through her veins outweighs the feeling.

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