I tell myself she’s fine, but I can’t make myself turn back yet. I wait another two maybe three minutes. Could she be hiding behind one of the closed doors? What if she’s waiting here for one of them?
The thought sickens me, and I shake my head to get rid of it. Then I hear a murmur, and my pulse surges.
I take a few steps. There’s a sound like something hitting the floor. Holy shit, I can’t breathe. I move toward a door where I think the sound came from. I stop outside it. I hear something else—someone moving around. Followed by another muttered curse. I’m sure of it. She’s on the other side of this door.
I listen for another minute, and then I open the door quietly. Slowly. With such care, I feel almost incorporeal. Then the door is open wide enough for me to see the whole room.
Most of it is done in black. There’s a big-ass painting on one of the walls. These people like their big-ass paintings (I get it, though; I like art, too).
That’s the last thought that crosses my mind before my gaze lands on her.
The girl I pursued is standing at a wall of built-in bookshelves, her dark head down as she flips through some sort of album she’s got propped against one of the shelves.
I’m fascinated by the profile view I have of her. Her slightly parted lips, the slight blush high on her cheek. The way her black hair falls down her slim back, over her flowing dress, which must be an angel costume because there are ribbons in the back shaped into angel wings. She looks like a porcelain doll, and with a silver mask over her eyes… A bolt of lust moves through me, and I draw a breath in, feeling strange about myself, at my reaction.
I don’t want to fuck her, I tell myself. It’s just…animal appreciation. We’re complimentary opposites of the same species. She looks soft and small and regal. Maybe even familiar. As I watch her, her mouth tightens and she blows a breath out.
Then her head turns. She looks right at me. Whoa.
I’m gripped by a strange sensation. Like I’m frozen, kind of, but my heart is beating harder and my face and chest feel hot.
Holding my gaze with her wide, masked eyes, she turns fully around to face me, revealing her flowing white gown. It tightens at her waist and hugs her bust and ties around the back of her neck. Another bolt of heat prickles through me like some kind of fucking drug.
“Who are you?” she asks me, at the same moment I say, “You look like a princess.”
I blink as the words leave my mouth, because I didn’t plan to say them. And they were kind of stupid. Obviously she’s an angel.
“I’m an angel.” She holds out her wings. “But I’ll take princess.” She peers at me like a dark-haired angel queen. “And you’re a robber prince.” She says it like an edict, but her lips twitch at the corners. At the last second, when it looks like they’ll tug into a frown, she gives me a shy smile.
“Do I know you?” Her tone sounds like she suspects she does.
“I don’t know.” I widen my eyes at her, waggling my brows. “What do you think?”
She stretches, casting her gaze around the room before her eyes land back on me. “I don’t think I care,” she says. She yawns likes she’s tired, and I step back, away from her and away from the door—so I don’t make her feel cornered.
“I think I’m too sleepy to care,” she says softly. “But I hope you’re a nice guy, because we’re in here alone together.”EliseWhen my mother was ten, someone hurt her as she walked home from her elementary school. Because of that, I think, when I was eight, I began receiving instruction in Kalari.
So I’m really not scared of this boy, even though he’s on the big side.
I am curious. I pretend I’m sleepy, but I’m making plans. He steps away—from the door and me—and I watch as the corners of his eyes tilt in what I think is a smile. I can’t tell for sure because he’s got a black bandana covering the lower half of his face.
“I am,” he says, and his deep voice sends shockwaves over my skin. They erupt into goosebumps which I ignore as I straighten my spine. I look him over once more.
“You’re a server.”
His eyes squint again as he smiles behind the black bandana. “I’m a train robber.”
“And I’m an angel,” I say softly, stepping closer to him. I don’t know why my feet move me. I watch as he rubs a hand back through his hair. Black hair, darker than mine. His eyes, I see after a few more steps, are ice blue.