Whisper to a Scream (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #6.5)

The sick sensation grew. I had never experienced the need to vomit before, but I was pretty sure that’s what this felt like. The thought of a man putting his hands all over her, knowing her in a way only a true lover should, it disgusted me.

“Do you like it?” I asked, fearing her answer. “Don’t you ever want to stop?”

Christina sucked in a breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “Nobody likes it. Everybody wants to stop. For a while, anyway. I told myself I would only do it for a year, to help my dad after my mom passed. Then, he passed away too, and I didn’t stop.”

She sipped tequila, caressing the glass as if it were a dear friend. Tears welled up though she never let them fall. It was so hard to see the lost look in Christina’s eyes. She shoved a hand through her tangled hair and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’m thirty years old, and my greatest accomplishment is having sex for money. Pathetic, huh?” She said this with a self-deprecating smile.

“No. Life is meaningless without mistakes. Learning from them is what counts. It’s not too late to do that, you know. You can walk away. Go to school or something. There is a better way, I promise.” I held her face steady in my hand as I cleansed the last of the blood from her nose. Warmth spread through me with a swell of emotion that stole my voice. She was a vision.

“I don’t know how to do anything else. Sometimes, I don’t even want to. It’s where I belong.”

“No, it’s not.” I’d seen this before. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to start to believe there was nothing better ahead. They grew so accustomed to the pain that they started to believe they deserved it. “As long as you have hope, anything is possible.”

I went to the kitchen to fetch ice from the freezer to wrap in a towel. Returning to her, I pressed the cold compress to her swollen face. The need to hurt the man who did this to her was sudden and strong. Violence toward humans wasn’t a trait of angels, and I turned my thoughts elsewhere in an attempt to squelch it.

Christina caught my hand in hers, holding it to her bruised cheek. “Thank you for treating me like a person. It’s been a long time since a man has seen me as anything but an object.”

She pulled me down on the couch beside her, and a jolt of panic pounded my chest. Leaning in close, Christina dropped the towel but held tight to my hand. Her lips were so soft and delicate as she kissed my palm.

“I feel like I was meant to meet you, Willow,” she continued, edging closer. “I don’t know what it’s like to be with a man who cares about me. There’s something about you that comforts me. I know I can trust you.”

“Yes, you can. That’s why I can’t give you what you want from me.” There, it was out. I had to say it now. Too much was going unsaid between us. I needed to stop this thing before it got out of control.

She looked so wounded. Confusion furrowed her brow. “You feel it, too. I know you do.”

I gazed at her pouty bottom lip, silent while a war raged inside me. “Yes, I do. But, we can’t be together, not the way you want; it’s forbidden.”

“Then why did you let it go this far? You can’t just turn on this charm and compassion, make a girl fall for you and then say it’s not going to happen.” She shoved to her feet and stormed into the kitchen where she grabbed the tequila bottle and drank from it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you tonight. Maybe you should leave.”

I held the towel of ice out to her, feeling useless and guilty. “Here. You should put this on those bruises. It will help with the swelling.”

“I think I’ll deal with the pain first.” She used the bottle to gesture to the door. “Don’t feel like you have to stay. It’s ok. I can take it from here. Thanks for bringing me home.”

Christina began to shut down. Her hard shield fell back in place. She stood there in torn clothing with the marks of abuse on her face, and I couldn’t bring myself to walk out the door.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll go. I would rather stay, though. If that’s ok with you.” I wanted to tear that ugly bottle from her hand and throw it from the balcony. I didn’t, though the temptation was growing. It was a crutch, a filthy way of numbing out. I had watched far too many die in the bottom of a bottle, victims of their own need to escape.

Her shoulders slumped, and she stared dejectedly at the floor. “Sure, why not? I suppose I could use the company.”

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, maybe?”

Her grip on the tequila tightened. “Would you just sit with me for a while? Is that allowed?”

“Of course.”

I waited anxiously while she showered and changed. I said a silent prayer that nothing would come up with Alexa to drag me away. My charge was my priority; she had to be. However, I was needed here right now.

Christina emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam that smelled like flowers and strawberries. Tightly wrapped in a bathrobe with her face free from makeup, she looked vulnerable. An overwhelming number of urges struck me, all of them bordering on inappropriate.

“You’re still here,” she said, genuinely surprised to see me.