Dark Angel (Casteel 2) - Page 97

you doing, trying to kill yourself?"

His eyes were unfocused and blurry, his voice

weak when he spoke my name. When he could see

me, he seized me as a drowning man reaches for

anything, and I was pulled hard against him so his

face could bury deep into my hair. "You came back.

Oh, God, I thought you'd never come back!" "Of course I came back." Kisses I rained on his

face. "Troy, I stayed here with you last night, don't

you remember?" More kisses on his face, on his hands. "Didn't I tell you I'd returned so we could marry?" I stroked his arms, his back, smoothed down his wild hair. "I'm sorry I came back late, but I'm here now. We'll marry and build our own traditions, make every day a holiday . . ." And I stopped talking

because he wasn't really listening.

The chilly room brought on fresh assaults of

sneezes, from both of us, then I was drawing him to

the bed, so we could both snuggle under mounds of

covers and wait for our shivering to end. Even as we

lay there, wrapped tightly in each other's arms, the

many clocks began all those subtle grinds and movements that would tell the chimes to toll.

Some errant wind managed to come in and

tinkle the crystal prisms of his dinette chandelier. "It's all right, darling, darling," I crooned,

smoothing his dark, rumpled hair. "I came upon you

just now during one of your . . what do I c

all them?

Trances, would that be the right word?"

His arms tightened so much my ribs began to

ache dully. "Heaven," he breathed; "thank God you

are here. His voice broke and he sobbed, gently

pushing me from him. "However much I am grateful,

I can't pretend any longer that I can live with you. Or

marry you. Your absence gave me the chance to think over what we were doing; your presence deludes me into thinking I'm a normal man, with normal expectations. But I'm not, I am not! I'll never be! I'm warped and unable to change. I didn't think you'd come back, once you got out into the real world and discovered you'd been asleep. This isn't a real house,

Heaven.

Not one lived in by real people. We're all fakes,

Tags: V.C. Andrews Casteel Horror
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