Page 99 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“I’m sorry, I need to go.” My back is to her as I lift my fingers to snap, but before I’m able to, a warm hand closes over them and stops me.
Chapter thirty
Greer
I’mtouchingSam,andall I can think is how I feel…
Alive.
I should probably be feeling other things, considering the black tendrils coming out of him and all that he’s told me. Things that quite frankly make absolutely no sense, but for some reason, they do.
I don’t think he’s lying, and I don’t think I’m in a coma. If I was, everything wouldn’t feel so real, like how I feel touching him right now. It’s as if an electric current surged straight through my veins, lighting up every inch of me.
Sam stiffens at my touch but doesn’t pull away. He slowly turns to face me, our hands dropping near our sides. But now, he holds mine—more like grips it. His already black eyes look like deep voids. They aren’t scary, though—they look more like a pool of endless dark galaxies. I want to swim in them, discover what constellations are hidden within their depths.
A sensation I liken to a cat rubbing up against my leg makes me look at him, and I’m reminded of what I saw before he ran. He called it his aura—dark tendrils, like tentacles, slithering toward me. They appear to radiate from his being, a dark halo that spans around his body and creeps out near his feet. It’sstrange, but I can’t say I’m not intrigued or that I don’t want to reach down and touch one, see what it feels like.
“Greer,” Sam says. “I should leave.”
The words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. “Why?”
“Because.” The veins in his neck strain, and the feeling on my leg dissipates briefly. My gaze becomes captured in his again, and small lines now crinkle around his eyes. He’s holding his tendrils back, or at least attempting to, and it’s causing him pain. The feeling in my gut that wants me to comfort him doesn’t like it.
“Because why, Sam?” I hold his hand tight, and his eyes look down at our now-woven fingers.
“Because, Greer.” His focus returns to me. “You’re you.”
I yank my hand back like I’ve been punched in the gut. Rejection overtakes every good feeling in my body, and I’m reminded of how I felt the first time Kai didn’t kiss me, how I felt when I reminded myself that men—Nephilim—like them wouldn’t want me, anyway.
Now, he’s voicing my insecurity, the one that’s always told me that I’m not good enough, that they’d probably like someone kind and sweet like Avery over a bitter Ice Queen like me who works too much and ruins people’s lives.
The bridge of my nose stings like it did earlier, but before I can stop myself, I do the thing he told me not to do. I turn and run.
Sam’s voice cuts through the quiet of the bookstore. “Greer, no!”
I don’t listen, my feet picking up speed. My hand is on the door to push it open when one of the shadow-tentacles wraps around my leg and stops me.
Fear and the sensation of needy desire fill me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, flipping my stomach and turning my nipples hard. Damn, body, we’re running—we’re upset, remember?
“Greer!” His baritone voice zips up my spine, the warning in it not making my situation any better.
The tentacle tightens around my ankle, and my breath catches in my lungs. It’s not lost on me that I’ve gotten off to a fantasy like this before, which doesn’t help my arousal at all. Differing emotions swirl inside of me, and it’s hard to make sense of them.
“Please.” His voice is closer now. “Let me explain what I meant.”
The grip on my ankle recedes, and I don’t remember making the decision to turn and face him again, but I do. My back presses against the door, the wood cool from the frigid winter air outside, reminding me that I was in such a hurry to leave that I left my coat, scarf, and purse.
Sam takes two tentative steps toward me, his shoulders back and stiff as the shadows swirl around him. I’m mesmerized by them, and the desire to reach out and touch one gets stronger.
“Greer.” Sam’s voice is pained. I look into his eyes, the depths of them swirling with confusion and sadness. They’re a mirror to my own.
I swallow, managing to find the ability to speak. “I understood perfectly what you meant.”
“I don’t think you did.”
“How could I misinterpret it?” Anger rises in my chest, replacing a bit of the lust.
He hesitantly takes another step closer. By the grind of his teeth, I know he’s trying to fight it, but just like how my body turned toward his of its own accord, it’s as if he can’t help himself.
