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Authors: Lacey Weatherford
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the clothing, but I could still hear Vance moving around in the water too, which also further masked the noise I was making.
My body trembled as all the grief and fear I felt earlier came crashing through me, unable to be held back or ignored any longer.
I wasn’t strong enough for all this. I was too weak, and Damien was going to win. He was going to take everything I loved about my life away from me, and the pain was unbearable, to the point of being excruciating.
The lives of the people I cared most about were in my hands, dangling precariously on a promise which I had no idea if I would actually be able to fulfill. I was a stupid, stupid, girl for every believing I could stand up to someone the likes of Damien Cummings.
I sank to my knees in the small closet space and buried my face in my hands allowing my tears to wrack my body with violent shudders. I was powerless—and I completely succumbed to my anguish, letting it shred my soul into tiny pieces.
The violence of my sobs nearly had me convulsing, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. It was making me dizzy, sick, and nauseous.
And then he was there, wrapping his arms around my waist. He crooned my name as he pulled me close, allowing me to bury my head against his wet chest. He held me as I wept into his fresh smelling skin, and I clawed at him in desperation, needing to feel the warmth of his living flesh under my fingers as I tried to hug him even tighter to me. I wanted to melt into him, be a part of him, and make him a part of me, something which could never be separated ever again.
Vance sensed my need, pressing kisses into my hair, nuzzling against my head with his. He whispered comforting endearments until the emotion burning between us was more than either of us could handle.
“Portia, I love you,” he said. He lifted my chin so he could look into my swollen eyes.
All of his worry and concern played over his face, and I threw my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to press hard against his mouth.
He answered me with a fierceness that was all consuming, like a man who was lost and without direction. I knew he felt exactly the same way I did, which was both comforting and terrifying.
I couldn’t get him close enough, and I demanding more. He answered my call by dipping to pick me up into his arms and carried me out to the bed.
Chapter 7
The over exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat woke us with a start. I reflexively yanked the covers to my chin when Vance quickly sat up next to me, even though I was appropriately dressed in a semi-modest nightgown.
Damien was sitting at an ornate, wooden dining table, which had appeared from who-knows-where, and he had a large breakfast spread out in front of him with place settings for three people.
“You son-of-a-….” The rest of Vance’s words were drowned out as he sent a large fireball rolling towards Damien. It slammed into the dining table, blowing it to smithereens.
I lifted my hands in a shielding motion from the missile-like shrapnel that went flying through the air, and I screamed.
Vance was instantly out of the bed, standing over Damien who was now lying on the floor, bloodied and covered with large protruding projectiles and food. He reached down and grabbed Damien by the collar snatching him closer.
“Don’t you ever touch my wife again!” he yelled, contorting into his demon features, and he sank his teeth into Damien’s neck, ripping a chunk from his throat just as Damien had done to him.
Damien gurgled as the blood sprayed from his neck—a panicked expression passing over his face in the few seconds it took for the Awakening to repair the wound once again.
“I might not be able to kill you, but I can still give you pain,” Vance added. He shoved one of the larger wooden shards farther into Damien’s chest, causing him to jerk in agony. He stepped away from his father, and I could tell he
My body trembled as all the grief and fear I felt earlier came crashing through me, unable to be held back or ignored any longer.
I wasn’t strong enough for all this. I was too weak, and Damien was going to win. He was going to take everything I loved about my life away from me, and the pain was unbearable, to the point of being excruciating.
The lives of the people I cared most about were in my hands, dangling precariously on a promise which I had no idea if I would actually be able to fulfill. I was a stupid, stupid, girl for every believing I could stand up to someone the likes of Damien Cummings.
I sank to my knees in the small closet space and buried my face in my hands allowing my tears to wrack my body with violent shudders. I was powerless—and I completely succumbed to my anguish, letting it shred my soul into tiny pieces.
The violence of my sobs nearly had me convulsing, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. It was making me dizzy, sick, and nauseous.
And then he was there, wrapping his arms around my waist. He crooned my name as he pulled me close, allowing me to bury my head against his wet chest. He held me as I wept into his fresh smelling skin, and I clawed at him in desperation, needing to feel the warmth of his living flesh under my fingers as I tried to hug him even tighter to me. I wanted to melt into him, be a part of him, and make him a part of me, something which could never be separated ever again.
Vance sensed my need, pressing kisses into my hair, nuzzling against my head with his. He whispered comforting endearments until the emotion burning between us was more than either of us could handle.
“Portia, I love you,” he said. He lifted my chin so he could look into my swollen eyes.
All of his worry and concern played over his face, and I threw my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to press hard against his mouth.
He answered me with a fierceness that was all consuming, like a man who was lost and without direction. I knew he felt exactly the same way I did, which was both comforting and terrifying.
I couldn’t get him close enough, and I demanding more. He answered my call by dipping to pick me up into his arms and carried me out to the bed.
Chapter 7
The over exaggerated sound of someone clearing their throat woke us with a start. I reflexively yanked the covers to my chin when Vance quickly sat up next to me, even though I was appropriately dressed in a semi-modest nightgown.
Damien was sitting at an ornate, wooden dining table, which had appeared from who-knows-where, and he had a large breakfast spread out in front of him with place settings for three people.
“You son-of-a-….” The rest of Vance’s words were drowned out as he sent a large fireball rolling towards Damien. It slammed into the dining table, blowing it to smithereens.
I lifted my hands in a shielding motion from the missile-like shrapnel that went flying through the air, and I screamed.
Vance was instantly out of the bed, standing over Damien who was now lying on the floor, bloodied and covered with large protruding projectiles and food. He reached down and grabbed Damien by the collar snatching him closer.
“Don’t you ever touch my wife again!” he yelled, contorting into his demon features, and he sank his teeth into Damien’s neck, ripping a chunk from his throat just as Damien had done to him.
Damien gurgled as the blood sprayed from his neck—a panicked expression passing over his face in the few seconds it took for the Awakening to repair the wound once again.
“I might not be able to kill you, but I can still give you pain,” Vance added. He shoved one of the larger wooden shards farther into Damien’s chest, causing him to jerk in agony. He stepped away from his father, and I could tell he
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