Hunting Angel (Divisa #2)
J. L. Weil
Chapter 1
Chase Winters was the bane of my existence.
Some people have death experiences and realize how precious life and love is.
Not me.
Just the opposite.
Oh, I appreciate life. I love feeling the wind in my hair, the taste of dark chocolate on my tongue, and I even came to love the country scent of Spring Valley, Illinois. What I didn’t have was an epiphany about my love life.
Instead of falling head over heels in love with Chase Winters, my savior, I actually loathed him more, if that was even possible. Okay, maybe loathe was a strong word. Truthfully, I didn’t know how I felt about Chase. Sometimes I saw glimpses of kindness. He could be sweet, considerate, and incredibly protective. But even so, Chase wasn’t the kind of guy who was easy to love. Sure, he looked like he was sculpted by the Gods, but the second he opened his mouth the godly illusion evaporated. Mostly all I got was a selfish ass. To make matters worse, we were linked by some Grim Reaper voodoo.
Thank you Death.
Chase has saved my life not once, not twice…shit at this point I’ve lost count. Maybe I should have shown a little more gratitude. Maybe I should have tired and get along with Chase a little better, especially considering that neither of us really understood this connection we have. Or maybe I should have stay as far away as possible.
I might have, if he suddenly hadn’t gone from being a douchebag to someone I barely recognized. The arrogant, snarky, asshole was still there, but with me he was different. And I found that even more dangerous. It was throwing me through crazy, messed up loops. That was what he was doing lately – messing me up.
I could handle the sarcasm all day long, but it was the charm that played with my head. Since that night everything changed. Or maybe it was just me who changed. My mom had gotten one heck of a surprise when I saw her that night after work. I hugged her like I was afraid to let go. We had spent the rest of that night on the couch together watching our favorite movie until I’d finally fallen asleep. She had sensed how much I needed to just spend a night with her, like we used to. It was the best medicine in the world – a mother’s love.
And her special chocolate milkshakes.
There really was no point in dwelling on what I couldn’t change. What was done was done. I should have been focusing on what happened now, like finding out if I was still human or some genetically altered badass. Hey, it was possible. As much as I despised to admit it, Chase was the badass. So it was deducible that some of his awesome baddassness could have rubbed off on me.
Oh who was I kidding? I didn’t feel like a badass. It was strange – I felt different, yet I couldn’t put my finger on what those changes were. When I looked in the mirror, my face looked exactly the same. Not one blasted freckle out of place. My hair was still as straight as a board and as black as spades. I hadn’t gained or lost any weight. I was still only five foot three, and my tongue was just as sharp as ever – maybe sharper.
What I really needed was a distraction from my own rambling thoughts, something to fully occupy my mind. If I kept going at this rate, I would drive myself straight into the loony bin. I knew just what I needed.
No, not Chase.
Tiptoeing down the hall in my striped knee-high socks and white cotton shorts, I skipped down the stairs trying not to disturb my sleeping mother. It had been a long night. Sprawling out on the zebra print sofa, (mom was totally into animal print) I flipped the TV on, finding my favorite YouTube channel. Yes, this probably raised my geekdom levels, but I couldn’t help it. I was addicted to YouTube.
I was completely immersed in the repartee between Sips and Sjin when I felt the familiar heat skirt down the back of my neck, and the tattoo now gracing my hip tingled. Every time he was near, the same symptoms came over me. It was both disarming and irritating.
“What are you doing?” he asked, making himself at home on the couch beside me. His long legs stretched out in front of him. Letting himself into my house whenever he felt like it, had also become a habit.
My eyes were glued to the screen. I fought the urge to look over at him, finding it more difficult than it should have been. Whenever we were in the same room, I instinctually sought him out. Our eyes would connect, the world would standstill, and then we would go on as if nothing had happened. So recently I began to challenge myself, to see how long it would take me before I caved. “What does it look like? I’m watching TV, genius. Even you should be able to figure that out.” I answered, in a droll voice never taking my eyes off the tube. Try as I might to ignore his overbearing presence, I failed. Epically and continuously.